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Chapter 2

“Come What May”

June

Roddy and I have been on tour with Josh Groban for a month now and it’s been…in a word…exhilarating. We’re in a different European city every other night or every few nights, and I can’t believe I’m getting to experience each of these amazing places finally. Though Roddy has rehearsals in each venue and prep before each show, he’s been able to take some time to explore with me or show me the sights if he’s been to a particular place before. But, even when I’m on my own, I’m having an amazing time trying to see everything I can before we pop off to the next city. I am no longer the “travel agent who hasn’t travelled”!

My stamina has slowly, but surely, come back. It’s not quite where it was before I started treatment, and my doctors say it may never get back to that place, but I seem to have reached my “new normal” as they call it. The hormone therapy drug and lower level of estrogen in my system from the premature menopause does make me feel like I’m about eighty instead of forty-three, but I’m not letting that stop me from enjoying life, and this tour, as much as possible. If I can beat cancer, I can do anything!

The tour began in Paris, and Roddy asked me to book a few extra nights ahead of time—as his personal travel agent—so we could really experience Paris. We, of course, visited the Rodin museum, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Musée de l'Orangerie so I could see Monet’s Water Lilies , Sacre Coeur and Notre Dame. But he also took me to some of his mother’s favorite markets—both for food and clothing—and some amazing cemeteries that aren’t as well-known as Père-Lachaise.

Not to mention the gastronomic adventures we’ve been having all over Europe. From flaky croissants in Paris to melt-in-your-mouth chocolates in Belgium to k?sesp?tzle in Germany. And the tea and cocoa are so much better here than in the US. Thankfully, I’ve been doing so much walking or else I’d have gained thirty pounds by now.

Now, we’re in Dublin and I’m soaking in everything I can. I already know two nights in Ireland won’t be enough for me, but at least I’m here in the country of my heritage, and I’m already making plans to come back. Soon.

Roddy is at rehearsal, and I’m winding my way through EPIC The Irish Emigration Museum this morning, learning so much about why so many people have left Ireland and where they’ve gone. I’m reading through some of the letters they’ve collected from emigrants when my phone bleeps with a text from Roddy.

Roddy: Are you busy?

Roddy: Can I call you?

Clare: I’m in a museum. Let me step outside and I’ll call.

Clare: Everything okay?

Roddy: Too much to text, but you’re not going to believe it.

I make my way past all the other cool-looking exhibits to the exit. When I step outside, I call Roddy’s number. He answers on the first ring.

“Hey.” I can hear sounds of instruments tuning way in the background like he’s walked to the other end of the concert hall from the stage.

“Hey. What’s going on?” I ask.

“You know Odessa, the woman in the opening act who usually does the duet with Josh?”

Of course I know her. She’s absolutely amazing and definitely won’t be in an opening act for long. “Sure. She’s fantastic.”

“Right. Well, she just showed up to rehearsal with laryngitis. She can’t sing!” Roddy exclaims.

“Oh no! What are they going to do? Can her partners go on without her?” I assume there’s some sort of contingency plan since she’s part of a band that has other singers and they can just play other songs that don’t feature her or something.

“They’re trying to figure that out, but I think they will just perform different material until she’s better. Clare, hang on just a second.” Roddy mutters something unintelligible to someone nearby, then comes back to the line. “Sorry about that. It’s crazy here.”

“I can only imagine.”

“The reason I’m calling is, Josh still needs someone to fill in for Odessa for the duet. It’s the big finale to the show—other than the encore—and he doesn’t want to change it midway through the tour. They’re scrambling to find someone, and I immediately thought of you.”

I’m rendered speechless. I cannot do this. Absolutely not.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but you know the song cold, and you have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.” The earnestness in his voice is threatening to break through my resolve. “I know if Josh heard you sing it, he’d agree that you’re the one to do it. Would you at least try?”

“I…I don’t know,” I reply, a waiver in my voice. “I’ve never sung in front of that many people before. And with all the lights and…everything…”

“The lights actually help,” Roddy says. “You won’t be able to see the audience because they basically blind you.”

“I guess that helps a little.”

“Please, Clare. Will you try?” he asks again. “If you don’t feel one hundred percent comfortable, you don’t have to do it. No questions asked.”

I think of what my father said in the dream I had with my parents a few months ago, “ Make the most out of your life and live with no regrets. ” I haven’t felt my other self since that dream, but I think she’d be cheering me on to do it as well. I know I will regret not at least trying to see if I can do this. Josh Groban is one of my favorite artists of all time and to sing with him would be another dream come true. Another dream Roddy made come true.

“I’ll do it.”

* * *

What feels like minutes later—but in reality, is almost ten hours later—I’m backstage at the concert hall waiting to go on. I’ve seen some of the concerts from this vantage point before as sometimes I’m allotted a seat in the audience and sometimes, I get a seat backstage, but never before have I been waiting to go onstage in any capacity. I’m wearing the dress Roddy bought me for Nate and Isaac’s engagement party, and the hair and makeup team has had their way with me. Of course, I still don’t have a ton of hair to speak of, but they worked some kind of magic to make it look like I have a lot more than I do.

Even though I rehearsed the song with Josh, and the whole orchestra, about a dozen times, my insides still feel tied up in knots. I hope Roddy is right about the lights blinding me so I can’t see the sheer volume of people out there, but I know I’ll be able to hear their reaction if I totally muck this up. While Josh is finishing up “February Song,” I close my eyes and take deep breaths in and out, in and out. I visualize my parents standing beside me, bolstering me through this. Slowly, I start to feel better, and by the time Josh introduces me, I feel, if not calm, at least not like I’m going to throw up.

I walk out on stage on cue and the crowd cheers. I steal a glance at Roddy who beams at me and mouths, “I love you.” I stop right on my mark opposite Josh, who gives a friendly smile. I smile back and nod that I’m ready. Josh signals to the band to begin the familiar chords to “All I Ask of You” from Phantom of the Opera .

Josh sings Raoul’s lines, and as I come in as Christine, all my fears evaporate, and I am wrapped up in the notes and the music. The passion and lyrics of love flow through me, and even though I’m supposed to be looking at Josh the whole time, my eyes drift to Roddy as we sing the dramatic climax of the song and Roddy’s eyes lock back on mine as well. When the song is over, the audience absolutely erupts, and Josh asks for the house lights to be brought up so I can see the standing ovation they’re giving us.

“Clare O’Donnell, ladies and gentlemen,” Josh says, gesturing for the audience to sit back down as the house lights are turned off. I’m about to make my way off stage again when Josh adds, “Clare, stay out here for a moment, would you?”

Confused, I turn back and nod.

“So, not only is Clare the hero of the hour for stepping in on that duet, but she’s also the girlfriend of our amazing cellist, Roddy Vaughn.” Josh gestures to Roddy behind him. “Roddy’s become a great friend over the course of this tour, and when he asked me for a favor today, I couldn’t say no. Roddy, would you like to come up here?”

I’m panicking. What favor? The favor of me singing in place of Odessa? Was it all a big mistake? But Josh just called me a hero for doing it. Then the thought flies through my brain and discards itself just as quickly. No, he couldn’t be. Could he? When did he set his cello down?

Roddy walks over to us and takes the microphone Josh offers. “Thanks, Josh,” he says. Then to the crowd he adds, “I hope you’ll indulge me for a couple moments, then I promise Josh has got some more amazing music for you.”

He turns to me and takes my hand. “Clare, I’ve been wanting to do this for some time now. I’ve actually been planning to do this in Dublin since you decided to come on the tour with me, and the fact that you were going to be on stage tonight is, well, fortuitous to say the least.”

Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod, ohmygodohmygod!

He gets down on one knee and there is a collective gasp from the crowd. Tears fill my eyes, and I want to scream “Yes!” even though he hasn’t asked me anything yet. With everything this past year has brought, he’s been one of the main lights in an otherwise dark time. I know our light will only continue to grow as the years go on.

“Clare, you are my Bright Love. And I want to keep loving you no matter what life throws at us. I want to go everywhere with you, hold you when you’re sick, laugh with you, cry with you, and make music together for the rest of our lives. I want to make all your dreams come true.” He releases my hand to pull a ring out of his pocket and offers it to me. “Clare, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Roddy,” I say without hesitation into my own mic. “I absolutely will marry you.”

The crowd erupts again. Roddy hands the mics to Josh, then puts the ring on my finger, picks me up and twirls me across the stage as the orchestra plays Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” He sets me down so we’re off stage and away from the prying eyes of the audience.

“I love you, Roddy,” I say into his ear. “No matter what.”

“I love you too. No matter what,” he says. He pulls me to him, and we kiss behind the curtain until he has to return to the stage to play Josh’s encore, “You Raise Me Up.”

As I listen to the song, I think of my parents and how they got me to this moment, and how I’m going to live like they want me to, with Roddy by my side.

* * *

“Are you sure they’ll be alright?” I ask Abby as she tries to pull me along the path at the Cliffs of Moher in my namesake county. It’s still surreal that I’m here, finally, and I’m absolutely soaking in all the beauty that is County Clare and Ireland in general. I can see why my parents wanted to remember it through me.

Now, we’ve stopped at the famous cliffs and Abby wants us to leave the group for a walk by ourselves down the left side while my group goes down the path on the right. We haven’t had a lot of time alone on this trip because leading a group of seniors is…a lot of work. They’re wonderful people, but there are logistics to sort out each day with the driver, maps to look over, tickets to hand out, and more questions than I could have ever imagined. I don’t know what I would have done if Abby wasn’t here to help me. I mean, I would have muddled through, but she’s been fantastic at fielding questions and herding the group places.

She waves her hand over her shoulder in a dismissive gesture. “They’ll be fine. I asked David to keep an eye on them for an hour or so. We need a break!”

David Doolan is the driver for our trip and has been fantastic. He was born and raised in County Roscommon, and now lives in Galway with his family. He does private driving tours like this one six months out of the year, then does walking tours in Galway the rest of the year. The group has had so much fun peppering him with questions about Ireland and getting him to say things with his “cute accent,” and he’s been a great sport about it.

“You’re right. They’ll be fine with David,” I relent. We hold hands as we walk along the path on this uncharacteristically sunny day. The country is beautiful, but the weather has been swinging wildly from warm to chilly, cloudy to rainy, all in the span of a day sometimes. “How do you think the trip is going so far?”

“I think it’s going wonderfully. Everyone is having a great time, and you’re doing a fantastic job,” Abby replies. “But I don’t want to talk about the group. We’re taking a break, remember? It’s not a break if all we do is talk about the group.”

I nod. “You’re right. What would you like to talk about?”

She’s thoughtful for a moment, looking out at the Atlantic Ocean. “What’s been your favorite thing we’ve seen so far?”

“Oh, wow, I have no idea how to answer that,” I say. “I loved seeing the hustle and bustle of Dublin and the GPO was one of my favorite museums. And the Ring of Kerry was one of my favorite days so far with all the sweeping views and rolling hills—although this view right here is climbing right up there. But the most memorable thing, and the part I’ll probably treasure the most, was yesterday afternoon in Tulla.” Tulla is where my father grew up and where my grandparents are buried. The group was so kind to allow me to build in a few hours of my own ancestry search into their trip.

Abby squeezes my hand. “Those are some great highlights. And, I agree, yesterday was very special. Even though I don’t really know my ancestry, I can see how beautiful those experiences have been for everyone throughout the trip.”

I wipe a tear from my cheek. “So, what’s been your favorite part?”

“Honestly, every moment I’ve gotten to spend with you,” she replies, smiling. “Sorry, was that too cheesy?”

I smirk. “Just cheesy enough, I think.” I lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek.

We walk along in silence for a few moments and stop to take some pictures, because Nate would kill me if I didn’t have tons of photos of the Cliffs of Moher for our socials when I get back. Every viewpoint shows us something different, and I’m relishing this time alone so much so that I’m thinking of doing something impulsive: proposing.

As we walk on, I’m thinking this through. I’m not the spontaneous type, and I actually had a plan to wait till we got home where I’d have a chance to book a table at a lovely restaurant—where we could both enjoy the food—have the ring hidden in a dessert or something. But I’m not sure if she cares about all that. I don’t know if I care about all that. I’ve been wearing the ring around my neck the whole trip. It’s my mother’s engagement ring, and I’ve been wearing it to feel her presence with me while we’re in Ireland. I don’t need anything more than that and my love for Abby, do I?

“…it just hit me that everything can turn on a dime.” I realize Abby’s been talking this whole time and I haven’t been paying attention.

I throw out an, “Uh huh,” so she knows I’m listening now.

“I mean, my mom just threw him out. And, I don’t blame her at all, don’t get me wrong, but it was just like that”—she snaps her fingers—“and they’re over. It’s been a lot to digest.”

“I know it has. I can’t even imagine what that must feel like.”

“And you’d think that I’d be opposed to marriage or long-term commitments after something like that, but I’m not,” she continues. “I think people should really look at the person they’re thinking about committing themselves to, though, before making that leap. I don’t think my mom did that. She’s said as much in our therapy sessions.”

Abby hasn’t opened up to me this much about her therapy with her mom before. She’s told me the sessions are going well, and she and Lynnette are working through things, but this is the first I’ve heard of anything specific. I’ve told her it’s up to her how much she wants to share with me, and I’m thrilled she’s doing so now.

“That’s why I’m glad you and I are so stable, connected and real with each other. I know I can tell you anything and you’ll stand by me. You’ll have my back, and I’ll have yours. We really get each other, you know?” She pulls me closer to her as we walk. “I love us.”

“Absolutely,” I reply. “I love us too.”

We arrive at the south viewpoint, and we stop to take more photos. I don’t know if it’s the conversation we’re having or the sun blinding me, but I swear I can hear the wind telling me to “go for it.” Maybe it’s my parents or maybe it’s Other Me—even though I haven’t felt her at all since that last dream we had months ago—but I know this is the time. This is the moment.

I unclip the chain from around my neck, slide the ring off and turn toward where Abby was standing a second ago taking pictures, only she’s not there anymore. I scan from side to side and don’t see her. Where did she go?

“Clare?” Abby’s voice comes from behind me.

Turning around, I see her down on one knee holding up a silver ring with a princess-cut emerald in the center. I gasp in shock, then start laughing hysterically.

“What? Do you hate the ring?” Abby asks, obviously scared by my laughter. “Isaac said I should’ve gone classic with a diamond, but I thought you’d appreciate an emerald more than some silly—”

I wave my hand to stop her rambling. “No, it’s just that I also have a ring.” I’m still laughing as I hold out my mother’s engagement ring. “I was going to propose too.”

She slowly takes in this new information, then starts laughing as well. “Oh my god. I can’t believe it!”

“I know. I’ve been planning to for a while now and I was going to wait until we got home so I could plan the perfect moment, but today just seemed so perfect already that I decided to do it.”

Abby stands up and grabs my free hand. “I’ve been planning to propose here for a month. I talked to David back in Dublin about taking the others for a walk on the other side so I could have time alone with you.”

I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all. “Do you want to start?”

“Is there even anything to say other than I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you?” she replies.

I shrug. “Maybe ‘will you marry me’ would be good to add in.”

“Maybe,” she says laughing.

We put the rings on each other’s fingers, marveling at how perfectly suited for each other they are. I feel a warmth in my chest seeing my mother’s ring on her finger and know that my parents would be—are?—so happy.

“I still can’t believe—” she starts to say, but I interrupt her by pulling her to me in a passionate kiss. The wind blows our hair around so much so that it’s getting tangled together, but neither of us cares. Everything about this moment feels like home to me and I hope the feeling never ends.

“You were right,” I murmur into her lips.

“About what?”

“It was only a chapter,” I reply, caressing her cheek and seeing how my new engagement ring catches the light. “And I want to spend all my remaining chapters with you.”