A/N Happy St. Patrick's Day to All! Here's a little Bethyl I hope will add some extra happiness to your day :)

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He was exhausted but it was the good kind of tired, the kind you get from a day well spent doing just what you want to be doing. What he'd been doing was exploring the Burren. He liked the feel of the ancient place and the isolation of it, it was like nothing he'd ever seen. There was the landscape of endless limestone, the herds of feral goats and so many types of wild orchids. Who would have thought a man would come upon so many wildflowers in such a hard-looking place as the Burren.

He'd been staying in Doolin in County Clare. By the time he returned to the small coastal village he was worn from the early start of his day and the miles he'd walked. He was hungry and thirsty so he made his way straight to O'Connor's Pub and stood at the bar. The barmaid knew him, it didn't take long for folks to get acquainted in the town with a population of only 500. "Hey Daryl what can I get ya this evenin'?"

"Hey yourself can I get a little Jameson neat and a Guinness, please."

She was friendly and chatty just like most of the folks he'd met in the small town. "Sure. How'd ya spend yer day then?"

"Went explorin' the Burren."

"Aye did ya see many orchids?"

"Yeah I seen plenty of 'em it's hard ta believe they grow there. It's true what I been hearin' about all that limestone too, ya do feel like you're walkin' on the moon."

She smiled at the remark and asked, "Will ya be eatin' with us this evenin'?"

"Yeah but I think tonight I'ma take that little table along the wall. It's been a long day an I need off my feet. I'd have the steak and Guinness stew please with an extra piece a the soda bread."

"Sure I'll be bringing it right out ta ya."

He went to the bench and sat himself down, leaning his back up against the wall of the old pub, his beer and his whiskey sat on the small table in front of him. He was thinking to only have the one of each, eat his dinner and then head up the hill and to bed.

The barmaid came with the stew, smiled and asked, "So what kind of adventure do ya have planned tomorrow?"

"Sorry ta say I'll be leavin' Doolin first thing in the mornin'."

"That's a shame ta hear. Where's the next stop?"

"Goin' up ta Galway first an then up in ta Northern Ireland ta see the Giant's Causeway. After I do some sightseein' up north I gotta come back down this way ta Shannon. I gotta return the motorcycle, then I catch my transport back ta America. I've had a helluva trip but I'm afraid I'm about at the end of it. I'ma miss this island."

"We'll miss havin' ya here. Maybe someday you'll find your way back."

"I'd sure like that. Music starts at 6:30 tonight don't it?"

Doolin was the birthplace of Irish music and O'Connor's Pub was the place to hear that music. He'd been in the village for a few days now, visiting the Cliffs of Moher, the Aran Islands and of course the Burren. The short time was long enough for him to know O'Connor's would soon be filling up with residents and visitors alike. Sunday was a big night with the music starting early and many locals showing off their musical talents.

It was a sort of free-for-all of the traditional music. There were no microphones at O'Connor's and there was no stage. Performers simply sat or stood near a couple of tables at the center of the pub. Anyone was welcome to sing or play and musicians would happily step up to accompany singers. Most everyone knew the old songs being sung and played, and the mood was happy and friendly.

It was an interesting mix of folks that filled the old pub on Sunday evenings. It was nothing like any bar in Georgia or anywhere else he'd ever been. Besides the typical bar patrons there would be entire families from babies to Grandma, all of whom had come to have their Sunday dinner and enjoy the Irish music.

He'd grown quite fond of the West Coast of Ireland. It was so unlike Dublin and surrounds where there was more of an international feel, and where he hadn't heard a lot of folks speaking Irish. Here on the Wild Atlantic Way things were more quiet and the towns were small, and he'd discovered he enjoyed listening to the locals talk among themselves in their ancient language. It was also a language he found baffling. In this part of the country the road signs were not in both English and Irish, they were all in the native language. Still he'd managed to make his way easily enough. He'd found the local people more than happy to help his All-American Redneck self get where he was going. These were good folks.

He was concentrating on the hardy stew and soda bread when a magical sound hit him, it was the most beautiful voice he could ever recall hearing. He looked up to see a young woman whose physical beauty equaled the beauty of her voice. There was a fellow playing an Irish flute accompanying her and soon a few other musicians joined in. It really didn't matter how many there were, all he could see or hear was her.

She was halfway through her first song when their eyes met. He felt powerless to turn away from her blue eyes, but then he couldn't think of one good reason why he'd want to.

One Guinness turned into three as he stayed to watch her finish the first set, and then waited hoping she'd sing again. He was thrilled when she did and again their eyes met.

He knew there was no use in pursuing it, no point in approaching the Irish beauty. He'd be leaving Doolin in the morning and finishing up his trip. Then he was back to the U.S. to muster out and begin a new life back home in Georgia. Still he knew no matter how far away he went, he'd never forget the face of the young Irish woman or the sound of her voice.

As he stood to leave he looked to her one last time, he nodded his head and walked out the door of the old pub.

The singer was crushed when the fellow left. She'd felt so sure he would come over and speak to her, she'd been just waiting for him to. He was especially handsome with intense eyes that were steady and targeted but not mean. His build was strong and his gate was almost more of a glide than a walk. All of it together made what she was sure was the world's most attractive man. But it wasn't just the way he looked, she was sure there was far more to him than that.

He made his way up the steep hill to the small bed and breakfast where he was staying. He took a quick shower and crawled into bed, wanting to get a good night's sleep before leaving first thing after breakfast. He found that in spite of how tired he was he couldn't sleep. His mind kept taking him back to O'Connor's and the beautiful blond with the magical voice. He tried telling himself that once he was back on the road he'd forget all about her.

But he didn't forget, not for a minute. She stayed right there with him, ever on his mind as he rode and explored the country. They went up to Galway and through Connemara National Park; up through Westport and over and up into Sligo; to the Marble Arch Caves and then up and over into Donegal; and she stayed through Londonderry and then he took her with him to the Giant's Causeway. It wasn't that he was complaining, not really, there were far worse things a man could find himself thinking about than her.

It was himself he was angry with. He went back and forth on it. First he was angry because after all, it wasn't as if she was the only pretty girl in the world. It just so happened the world was full of pretty girls. Although she was by far the prettiest he'd ever seen. He was most angry with himself for not having spoken to her. For not having found out her name, and for not having heard the sound of her speaking voice. He'd been a fool leaving like he did.

Either way he was getting no rest from the image of her that stayed ever present in this mind.

So he took her image with him to the Giant's Causeway and from there they went to the Bushmill's Distillery, he tasted the whiskey and the taste of it only made him think of her. Then he tried to drink her away but that didn't work either.

The next day he took her to their last stop in Northern Ireland, Belfast. The morning after that she was with him again as they went on their way to the airport in Shannon. From there they'd get on a plane back to America and his home in Georgia.

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He'd wanted to visit Ireland ever since he was in the fifth grade. That was the year everyone in the class had to do a big report in geography. The students had to pick a country or region and tell all about where it was located, the formation of it, the terrain and the climate. He'd chosen Antarctica but he sure never had a desire to go there. It was that whiz kid Milton Mamet that had chosen Ireland. Being the full-on nerd that he was, Milton had done an entire slide show on the small country, complete with background music. Traditional Irish Music.

Daryl was sold, Ireland was a place he wanted to see. What he'd never told anyone was how much he loved the music and how he wished he could hear it there.

However a trip to Ireland had simply been one of those dreams a person has, the kind they never expect to have come true. But it had for him.

It was when he was serving in the army, doing his duty to his country. When his stint in Iraq was up he'd be processed through in Germany and then catch his transport home via Shannon, Ireland. Not long before he was to leave Iraq he was having breakfast in the mess. He was bullshitting with another soldier and the guy told him about a buddy of his, a guy that had done a private party motorcycle rental in Ireland. He'd spent a month just riding around on the bike seeing the small country before going home.

That's when Daryl decided to at least try. Maybe he could make his dream of visiting Ireland become a reality.

Why not? He had 30 days of leave on the books and he'd tucked away the bulk of his war time wages. Why blow what would probably be the only chance he ever had to do this? So he talked to his CO and filled out the paperwork for his leave. He'd been astounded when it actually happened, it was like everything just so easily fell into place.

He arranged to rent an old Triumph from a guy just outside Shannon, he paid an ungodly amount of money for the insurance and he was set. He'd ridden all over Ireland seeing every tourist sight and every hidden gem he could. He'd drunk quite a bit more than his share of Guinness and Smithwick's, and definitely more than his share of Jameson. He'd consumed more potatoes, more lamb and more mashed peas than he had in his previous 25 years combined. He couldn't think of a thing he hadn't enjoyed about any of it.

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It came to him as he rode back toward Shannon, he had the time and he certainly had the desire so he went off course. He rode back to Doolin and stopped in at O'Connor's. He had a Guinness and spoke with the barmaid inquiring if she'd seen the blond woman. The barmaid could only recall seeing her one more time and what she told him was sweet and wonderful and very painful, "Aye it was the next night but she didn't stay long. She asked me if you were here or if I knew where she could find you. I told her you were on your way to Northern Ireland and wouldn't be back. She looked a bit crestfallen. I'm sorry Daryl I didn't know ya was comin' back or I would have gotten a number for ya."

He thanked her but his shoulders slumped and it felt like his heart really did break, this had been his last chance.

It was the very definition of bittersweet. He was a bit taken aback and quite flattered she'd come looking for him, but now he knew for sure he'd never see the blond woman again. Except of course for the image of her that was constant in his mind.

With a heavy heart he continued his journey to Shannon and returned the Bike to the fellow there. He caught a cab to the airport and endured the five hour wait for his flight back to America.

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Her Mother had always told her she was born with her love of music, particularly folk and mountain music. Her early infatuation with Appalachian music lead her to study the roots of it. That was how she came to discover Irish music. She hadn't been more than 10.

It was then she started to daydream of someday going to Ireland and listening to the traditional music in some ancient pub. It was only a dream though. On her meager salary, as a music teacher at a small private school, there was no way she could ever fund a trip abroad. She could barely pay rent and keep herself in food and clothing.

But her brother had surprised her on her 23rd birthday with the gift of his frequent flyer miles, "You won't get there first class Beth but it's enough to get you there."

She couldn't believe it, now all she had to do was figure out the rest. She scraped together every penny she could. She gave private piano lessons and babysat over the weekend for one of the other teachers. She even pulled a few shifts at a local café. Finally she had enough to fund an eight day trip to Ireland. She planned on three nights in Dublin, two nights in Killarney and three nights in the small town of Doolin. It wasn't as much time as she'd like to spend but it was eight days more in Ireland than she ever thought she'd get.

She'd chosen to stay in Doolin because a fellow teacher had told her about the music at O'Connor's and that had given her the notion to give it a try. She wasn't really one for performing in public, but the benefit of being so far from home was everyone would be a stranger. If she embarrassed herself it wouldn't matter, she'd never see any of those people again.

She hadn't been singing for long that Sunday night when her eyes landed on his. He was sitting in the corner leaning against the wall and once their eyes met she found she couldn't seem to look away from him. Although that didn't really matter as she had no inclination to look away. There was something that felt so powerful drawing her in and she had no idea what that might be.

His eyes were a kind of cobalt blue and his stare was narrow, not at all a friendly sort of look. Yet it didn't fool her. He could try as hard as he liked to look tough or hard, but she could see what lay behind those intense eyes, he had a gentle soul. She sensed he tried to hide the gentleness within him from the rest of the world, but he couldn't hide it from her.

She felt devastated and like he'd abandoned her when he'd just gotten up and left the pub, merely acknowledging her with a nod of his head and one long last look. How could he do that? How could he just leave her that way? After all the intensity they'd shared.

She barely slept that night for thinking of him. The next day she tried to find out who the handsome Irishman was but the bartender said he'd gone, he left for Northern Ireland and he wouldn't be coming back. She was heartbroken.

She tried to tell herself how ridiculous it was to feel so bad, she didn't even know the man. They'd never spoken a word. Yet in spite of the cold hard facts of the matter, she didn't think she could feel any worse than if she'd known him a lifetime when he left.

The next day she'd taken a bus back to Dublin to board a plane for home. Her short stay had been wonderful, a real life dream come true. She'd enjoyed every moment of every day. But she was feeling downhearted, and she was inexplicably saddened knowing she'd never see the handsome Irishman again. She reminded herself once more that she didn't even know the man, she had no reason to feel sad or like she'd lost something she'd never get back. The truth of it was she could think as logically as she pleased, but the trouble with logic was it had no impact on the feelings she was having.

She returned home and her Mother threw a little family get-together so she could tell everyone all about her wonderful adventure, and show all the photos she'd taken. She thought she did a good job of hiding that sad feeling that didn't want to leave her. It was crazy, she didn't even know his name.

After most everyone had left it was Maggie that got her aside, "Bethie what's wrong? Did something bad happen over there?"

"No Maggie why would you ask? It was wonderful just like I told everyone and I'm fine. It was the trip of a lifetime and I couldn't be more grateful to have had this chance to go."

"Beth it's me, so cut the crap and tell me what happened."

She couldn't help it she'd kept her emotions in check for too long, as she told her sister about the Irishman she started to cry. Now that she was telling it she realized just how crazy the story sounded, even to her. She was sure her sister would think she'd completely lost her mind.

Maggie didn't act like that at all, she put her arms around her sister, "I'm so sorry Beth, it does sound like you two had some kind of weird and powerful connection. I bet he thinks about you all the time too and he probably has lots of regrets about not talking to you that night."

Beth went back to work and it was blessing really, at least she was busy and she did love the job. It was those days and evenings she wasn't busy that times were hard. It seemed like she never closed her eyes at night that she didn't see him, his eyes staring deeply into hers. She was starting to become concerned she was losing her mind.

He got back to the states, checked in at Fort Benning and two weeks later he mustered out of the army. He was lucky, his job as a heavy equipment operator for the county was waiting for him. He rented a small house on a quiet street in town, and he retrieved his bike and Jeep he'd been keeping at his brother's place. He was on a roll, starting life all over again and it was all real good. Except for what was missing. The beautiful Irish woman wasn't there. He still hadn't stopped kicking himself in the ass for not at least talking to her.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. He worked, he hunted, he fished and on Friday nights he drank beer with his brother, and damn if she wasn't still with him. He was sure he had a screw loose and he wasn't the only one. Merle asked him often what the hell was wrong with him. He couldn't tell Merle all of it though, it was just too crazy. He finally told him it was an Irish woman he couldn't get over. He gave no more details and Merle didn't prod him. He was sure if his brother knew the true story he'd be taking him to the loony bin, and he wouldn't blame Merle for doing it.

His brother called Thursday evening, "Hey little brother ya know what tomorrow is, right?"

"Yeah Merle it's Friday an yeah I'll meet ya for beers at Smitty's, just like always."

"Quit bein' so fuckin' cranky all the damn time Daryl. Tomorrow's St. Paddy's Day and we gotta roll with that, get our drink on Irish style. Hell you was that country long enough ya practically are Irish. Let's meet over ta Murphy's an do some serious drinkin'. Whiskey's on me an the cab's on you."

Merle was right, he'd been nothing but grouchy and short-tempered ever since he got back to the states. He was going to make every effort to change that, get over her and have some damn fun. "Yeah okay Murphy's sounds real good, we been needin' ta change things up some anyways."

She didn't want to do it but Maggie just wouldn't let up. Her sister could be so annoying when she made up her mind about something, and Maggie's mind was made up. "Beth you can do this, you're so good! I know it doesn't pay but you'll probably make fifty bucks in tips. It's St. Patrick's Day and everyone will be drunk and feeling generous. Besides it's only for an hour, one little short hour, then the band will start and we'll take the money and run. Come on Bethie just take a chance."

It went on like that for a week before Beth finally gave in and did the audition. She expected them to tell her thanks but no thanks, but that wasn't what happened at all. She got the job.

St. Patrick's Day came and she and Maggie arrived at the bar in plenty of time to check out the small stage, make sure the microphone was set at the right height for Beth, and of course she felt the need to tune her guitar for the tenth time that day. "I swear Maggie if I make an ass out of myself you're going to pay. I'm not sure how but I'll think of something." Maggie just smiled at her sister. Not only was she sure Beth would do great but she knew her sister didn't have a mean bone in her body, although she could talk a tough game.

When Daryl and his brother got to Murphy's it was six thirty and the place was already packed. There were folks that had been there since the place opened at eleven in the morning. St. Patrick's Day was always the perfect excuse for folks to start early so they could drink all day and night. The brothers were feeling in the mood to join in on that drinking, ordering their beers in a bottle along with a couple shots of Jameson. They had no desire to drink the tap beer that had been colored green for the holiday.

It was as noisy as could be and almost impossible to have a conversation, but the brother's tried. Daryl's face was turned towards Merle and he didn't see her get up on the small stage. But after she'd been singing for a few minutes the patrons quieted down some to hear the music. At least some of them did. Enough of them that Daryl heard her.

His head whipped around so quickly he was almost dizzy and it was then he saw his ears hadn't deceived him, it was her, his Irish beauty. He pushed through the crowd as he made his way toward her. She was looking out at the partyers and hadn't seen him. Finally he made his way up to the front of the stage.

It was seconds later that she looked down and their eyes locked. Tears immediately began rolling down her cheeks as she stopped singing and made to set the guitar down. At the same time he was hoisting himself up onto the stage. He hurried to her and his arms wrapped around her just as hers wrapped around him. They stood there just hugging tightly, oblivious to the sounds of the confused crowd.

He leaned his head back just a little to look in her face, their eyes focused on each other and he finally spoke to the Irish beauty, "I missed ya so much."

"I missed you more."

He heard the accent and in disbelief he quietly said, "You're from Georgia."

She laughed a little, even with the tears still running down her cheeks, "Yes and so are you."

They hadn't taken their eyes off each other as he moved his hands to gently caress her face, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left, we should have talked. I was an idiot an I been mad at myself ever since."

"I was so sad when you left but you're here now, you finally found me."

"I been carryin' ya with me everywhere I go. I gotta know, what's your name?"

"Beth. I don't know yours either."

"Daryl."

"That sounds good together doesn't it? Daryl and Beth."

"It's music ta my ears."

He didn't say another word he just moved his lips to hers and they kissed like they'd been waiting a lifetime for this moment.

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A/N Daryl and Beth are finally together, what more could we want this St. Paddy's Day? I hope you all enjoyed the story and that you'll leave me a note or review. Thanks so much for reading along. Have a wonderful and festive holiday, and do like the Dixon Brothers, avoid green beer and call a cab. x gneebee

The chapter photo is posted to my tumblr page bethylmethbrick, please visit there. If you have the time and inclination I hope you'll check out some of my other Bethyl stories. Thanks so much and remember, I love Ya Large! xo gneebee