The Luck of the Irish Page #4

Oh.

You're up early, Mr. Fitzgerald.

Oh, good morning.

I couldn't sleep very well.

Oh, I hope it wasn't the bed.

No, no. I think I just

had one drink too many last night.

- Kept having dreams.

- Good ones, I hope.

Strange ones anyway.

Perhaps it was Taedy's wild stories.

Or it might have been the old man

who gave me the advice up by the waterfall.

What waterfall was that?

The one up the brook there.

The Gentle Burn it's called, isn't it?

But there's no waterfall

on the Gentle Burn.

Come on.

- What for, Mr. Fitzgerald?

- We're gonna find out once and for all...

if there's a waterfall up there.

Now listen.

I'm sure it was here.

Hey!

Who are you calling?

Well, he's a- a rather peculiar

friend of mine. He-

But you must know him.

He's about the, uh-

Uh-

Well, it's- it's easy

to imagine things here in the woods.

But I couldn't have imagined that waterfall.

I saw it, and I heard it.

But maybe it- maybe it is

further upstream.

Yes, that- that- that must be it.

I suppose I could have

forgotten about it.

Yes.

I used to come bird's-nesting

here when I was a little girl.

There's a grand view of the sea.

I wish that boat would come.

Is it so very important to you?

Oh, it's the chance

I've been waiting for.

Ever since the war, I've been kicking

around Europe writing freelance stuff...

mostly for Bill Clark.

Now I'm ready to settle down

to a real job.

- Oh, but you shouldn't give up your writing now.

- Oh, I don't intend to.

The only difference is that from now on

I'm going to be paid for it.

I'm sick and tired of beating my brains out

for nickels and dimes.

It'll come.

You mustn't fret, Mr. Fitzgerald.

My friends call me Fitz.

- Fitz?

- Mmm.

I'd never call you that.

It- It sounds like

a bottle of soda water.

Well, a few-

My mother called me Stephen.

Stephen.

Oh, I like that better.

Everyone calls me Norah.

Norah.

Oh, that's very nice.

That's always been a favorite of mine.

Norah.

If I ever had a daughter,

that's what I'd call her. Norah Fitzgerald.

Norah Fitzgerald.

You're not married, Stephen?

No, I'm too fond of

my freedom for that.

Oh, don't say that.

A man should marry.

It's the natural rule

and a good thing altogether.

What about you?

Doesn't that same rule apply to you?

And who would I be

marrying here in Ballynabun?

Michael the fishmonger?

Or Taedy perhaps?

Oh, look. It's a boat.

It's the Aranar, Sean's trawler.

Your wish has come true, Stephen.

If you start at once, he can have you

in Shannon in the morning.

What's wrong?

You ever seen anything like this?

Oh, sure.

It's a doubloon.

16th century Spanish, I think.

- How could I have gotten it?

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