Title: Holiday Hell – St. Patrick’s Day
Author: Cathy Miller (www.cathyswestwing.com)
Timeline: First year of the Santos administration
A/N: With the recent celebration of the High Holy Day (St. Patrick’s Day) I started wondering how the
Moss family celebrated the holiday. Then the more I thought about it I decided the Moss family
needed to be Catholic with the Dad who’s Irish and the Mom who’s Italian it’s a reasonable jump in
logic. I know it’s not canon but bear with me.
Tonight is going to be perfect. I have every last detail planned. A guy can’t hang out with Donna this
long and not pick up some of the planning and coordination tricks she uses. I’ve also enlisted the aid
of one of Donna’s sisters since we’re in Wisconsin until tomorrow night.
We haven’t had a lot of time since Inauguration to spend together without some event or another at
the White House intruding on any plans we might want to make. Donna said she was fine with it; that
she understood the demands of the first hundred days. And as she pointed out, we did have that
vacation during transition, but this is a whole different thing.
So you can imagine her surprise when I told her we were taking a two day trip to Wisconsin over St.
Patrick’s day. Donna’s family is VERY big into celebrating that holiday since Donna’s father is 100%
Irish. I’m not sure what the itinerary is for the day but I’ve got the evening schedule mapped out in
detail. I walk downstairs from the guest room in search of Donnatella, when I’m waylaid by Timothy
Moss himself.
“Josh! Come have some breakfast.” He invites me. “The women went on a run to the store, but they’ll
be back momentarily.”
“Okay. Sure.” I agree and follow him into the kitchen. On the center island I see an array of green
food; green muffins, rolls, and what appear to be green scrambled eggs. I close my eyes until the
urge to vomit passes.
“What’s your pleasure, Joshua?” Tim Moss asks me.
“Uh…got anything that isn’t green?” I ask hopefully.
“On St. Paddy’s day? You must be daft.” He laughs. “It all tastes perfectly normal, I swear.”
“Right. Well. I’m really not all that hungry anyway.” I wave it off.
“You have to have something in your stomach for when we start on the green beer.” Tim objects.
“You know I’m not actually Irish, right?”
“EVERYONE’S Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.” Moss rejects my excuse. “Try one of the muffins. You can
close your eyes while you eat it if it helps.” He presses a muffin in my hand. When I reluctantly take a
very small bite, I’m relieved to discover he was telling the truth. It tastes like a regular muffin.
“How long do you suppose they’ll be at the store?” I ask.
“Not too long. They only needed a couple things and it t’isn’t far from here.” Moss tells me. “Here,
have some eggs too.”
“No!” I object a little too strenuously and Moss gives me a disappointed look. “I don’t usually eat
breakfast at all, so the muffin will be plenty.” This is pretty much true. Normally, I haven’t been a
breakfast eater, but since Donna moved in with me last month, she’s been insisting that we both eat
something for breakfast each morning. However, even if I’d been starving I don’t think I could have
choked down the green scrambled eggs. “What are the plans for today, sir?”
“Enough with the ‘sir’ business, Joshua. I told you to call me Tim.” He reminds me. “I’ve been telling
you that since Germany!”
“Yes, sir…I mean, Tim.” I correct myself before he can go off on a rant about it. The man needs very
little provocation to go off on a rant. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree there, did it Donna?
“When the women get back we’ll get started on the food preparations then head to 1:00 Mass while it
all cooks.”
“Mass?” Donna neglected to mention Mass in their St. Patrick’s Day festivities. I’m sure it just…slipped
her mind.
“They don’t call him SAINT Patrick for nothing, man.”
“No. No, I’m sure they don’t.” I hastily reply. Mass…okay, I can do Mass. I just need to keep my eyes
on the prize. Tonight is the prize. I’m saved from any additional comment by the arrival of Donna, her
mother, and her sisters all giggling like school girls as they bring in bags and bags of food.
“Have you started drinking already, woman?” Timothy asks his wife.
“Just enjoying some time alone with my girls.” Anna Moss declares. “I can’t remember the last time we
were all here together. I’m forever alone in the house.”
See? That sounds like it’s just a wistful comment, but it’s directed squarely at me. Anna blames me for
the fact that her daughter hasn’t been home for a lot of the family events in the last few years…okay,
nine years. I thought she’d cut me some slack after Germany. She seemed very appreciative at the
time, but I guess it finally dawned on her that Donna wouldn’t have been in Gaza in the first place if it
hadn’t been for me. I’m most definitely in the doghouse with her.
The daughters all share a silent eye roll at their mother’s comment. The martyr deal seems to be a
familiar refrain to them.
“Mama, you know we all come home as often as we can.” Bianca pats her mother’s shoulder.
“All I wanted by this point in my life was some grandbabies to spoil and not one do I have; between all
three daughters, not one!” She punctuates her statement with a rap of her wooden spoon on the
counter and she starts preparing food. I’m not sure what all of it is, but it smells horrible. This woman
makes fantastic Italian food; I’ve tasted it. Would it be completely out of line to request some of her
excellent pasta to go with the rest of…this?
“Well if it’s just babies you want, mama…” Carina chimed in with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.
“Don’t even tease about something like that, Cara.” Anna admonishes her. “Husbands…then babies.”
She then levels a serious look at Donna.
“Yes, mama.” Donna agrees with her after offering me an apologetic smile. I grimace back.
“Are you just going to stand there Joshua, or will you help an old woman peel some potatoes for our
evening meal?”
“I’m quite good at peeling potatoes, ma’am, but I don’t see any old women here.” I try for sucking up
but she just tosses a rather large potato at me. At the moment, I’m just glad I spent some time in
baseball camp.
The Moss kitchen is a hive of activity and I never even get near Donna. I catch fleeting glances here
and there, but I have to keep my eye on the potato peeler because if I cut a digit off, it will put a
serious damper on my plans.
“Donna, bring your guest upstairs so he can shower and change before Mass.” Anna decrees. Donna
takes me by the hand like I can’t find the upstairs bathroom by myself. I don’t complain though,
because at least I’ll get Donna alone for a few minutes. Once my bedroom door is shut, I pull her into
my arms and kiss her thoroughly.
“You’re a little messy too, Donna. You should really shower with me.” I cajole her.
“I’m not sure my mother would agree with you.” Donna chuckles. I love that low throaty chuckle of hers.
“Okay, I understand that she may not want to witness it directly, but she knows we’re living together.
Does she think we’re just roommates?” I laugh, but Donna pulls away instead of joining me in
laughter. “Donna?”
“When I said I was going to tell my parents I was moving in with you?” She winces. “I may have been
overstating things a bit.”
“Donna?!” I screech.
“I was going to tell them the next time I came home only the next time I came home was with you, and I
didn’t want you to have to witness the kind of carnage that might ensue so…”
“What would you have done if I’d said something about living together? God, what would they have
done?” I sit down on the bed imagining what their reaction might have been and how everything could
have been ruined.
“I would have thrown myself on the grenade for you.” She says solemnly.
“Great, because that’s just what I’d want you to do; throw yourself on the grenade for me.” I deadpan
and she sits next to me on the bed.
“I’ll tell them.” She sighs. “I’ll go down and tell them right now.”
“No!” I nearly shout and grab her hand to keep her from fulfilling the promise she just made.
“Just a minute ago…”
“I know. But now that I know, nothing will accidentally slip.” And if things go as planned tonight, the
whole thing will be moot by tomorrow anyway. “Let’s just let things lie for now.”
“Okay…if you’re sure.”
“I am.” I tell her, but I kiss her again because, well, I can and we’re alone so…
“Donnatella?” Anna shouts from downstairs. “I don’t hear the shower running! We’ve only 40 minutes
‘til Mass.”
“Yes, mama!” Donna calls back. “Take a quick shower. I’ll lay out your clothes for Mass.” She gives
me one last kiss and pushes me into the bathroom. God, I love that woman.
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I’m getting nasty looks from Anna Moss and it isn’t my fault. Donna’s hands keep wandering as we sit
in the pew with the rest of the Moss clan. Then when I try to move her hands, Anna Moss looks over
and catches me. I want to shout, “It’s your daughter making trouble, lady” but I’m pretty sure that
wouldn’t help me build the relationship I’d like to build with Anna Moss.
After a VERY long hour, we file out of church and are greeted by the priest. Tim Moss enthusiastically
makes introductions, but Anna hardly says a word until we leave the church yard.
“He seems…nice.” I note.
“He is not.” Anna mutters.
“Now, Anna.” Tim pats his wife’s arm.
“I thought you liked Father Lucas, mom.” Bianca pipes up.
“That was before the election.” Anna tells her while I try to figure out what Anna means.
“The election?” Donna asks while Tim makes slashing gestures across his throat.
“Fine. I’ll tell you. The pompass jackass said you weren’t to receive communion when you came to
Mass with us because you supported a pro-choice candidate.” Anna tosses it out as she gets in the
car.
“Mom? What the hell?” Donna turns to her father.
“It’s not a big deal, Donnatella.” Her father brushes it off. “We rarely go to Mass.”
“Dad!” Donna looks at her sisters for back up.
“Your mother took care of it in any case.” Tim opens the back door of the car.
“How did she do that, exactly?” I ask.
“You don’t want to know.” Tim shakes his head and gestures for us to get in the car.
“I’ll bet I don’t.” I reply softly. I’m not going to dig into it but by the look on Donna’s face, I can tell she’s
far from done with this topic. When we get back to the house we find it has been invaded by more
Moss relatives…and the stench from what I’ve learned is the cabbage portion of the corned beef and
cabbage is making me nauseous.
I avoid the green beer for the moment and sidle up next to Mrs. Moss. “I don’t suppose St. Patrick
ever had a nice bowl of pasta…” She smirks a little at me.
“It’s only the one day a year I do this.” She admits quietly. “Can’t stand the stuff, myself.”
We share the first smile I’ve gotten from her since we got here. “All the way here I was dreaming of
your Alfredo sauce.” I fess up.
“Are you sucking up to me, Josh Lyman?” She asks shrewdly and I laugh.
“I would if I thought it would help, but I REALLY love your Alfredo sauce.” I put my hand over my heart
in the age old sign of honesty. “I’ve been to some of the best restaurants in D.C, hell all over the
world now, and nobody can touch your Alfredo sauce.”
“I think you must be part Irish to have such a gift of blarney.” She decides.
“No, ma’am, just a politician. We’re equally gifted in blarney.”
“I’ve been married to an Irishman going on 38 years now. Nobody is as gifted in blarney as an
Irishman.”
“If you say so.” I surrender easily
“You don’t need my say so. Didn’t you have enough blarney with that Colin character in Germany?”
She asks. It gives me my perfect opening.
“I’ve had the feeling that you’re upset with me, Mrs. Moss.”
“This really isn’t the time or place…”
“It’s probably the only chance we’ll have to speak alone for awhile.” I interrupt her. “Are you still angry
with me for sending Donna to Gaza?”
She blinks at me in shock and surprise. “Gaza? I was never angry with you about Gaza, Joshua.”
Now it’s my turn to blink in surprise.
“Josh, you should have heard Donna when she called to tell me she was going to Gaza to report back
to you and the President! She was so thrilled; so honored that you trusted her with such an
assignment. Then…when it happened, you rushed to her side with nothing but the clothes on your
back and you stayed by her side until we knew she would be alright. What more could you possibly
have done?”
“Then, you’re not angry with me?” I confirm.
“I’m mad as hell at you!”
“But you just said…” Moss women are so confusing.
“Not for Gaza, Josh, for after that.” She tries to explain but my expression must still show my
confusion. “You broke her heart after you got back. You ignored her until she quit her job. You
wouldn’t speak to her while she was working for Russell.”
“I spoke to her plenty when she was…”
“Don’t interrupt me, young man.” Anna continues. “Then when Santos got the nomination you
rejected her again. She cried rivers over it, you mark my words. If it hadn’t been for that horrible
Thornton woman she’d be heartbroken still!”
I purse my lips and think about what she’s said. I want to argue that she’s only heard half of the story,
but I doubt that will make any difference to Anna Moss who held her daughter while she cried.
“I screwed up.” I nod. “We both did along the way and I’m very sorry for it. I’ll do my very best never to
make her cry again.”
She gives me a reluctant nod. “Someday, when you’re a father, you’ll understand that you’re hottest
anger is spent on those who hurt your children.”
“I believe you.” I reply. “Will you forgive me?”
“I think it’s best that I do, don’t you?” She gives me a guileless smile.
“Why is that?” I press.
“Because I unpacked your bag for you when you got in last night.” She sing-songs.
“Mrs. Moss…” I give her my warning voice, but she just continues to smile at me.
“I think you’d best call me Anna now too.” She pats my cheek and goes back to her cooking. “Once
these cretins have had their fill of whiskey and corned beef, you and I will have a little pasta together.”
“Josh? Dad’s starting Darby O’Gill and the Little People.” Donna tugs on my hand. “Come on, you
have to watch it with me.”
“That really doesn’t sound like a title that interests me, Donna.”
“You’ll love it!” She laughs. “Sean Connery is in it!”
“You’ve started drinking already haven’t you?” I ask.
“Just a wee bit.” She tells me in this ridiculous brogue and kisses me right in front of her mother.
Donna Moss is tipsy in the middle of the afternoon.
“You’d best go along. The movie selections only get worse from here.” Anna advises me. “Stay away
from the uncles. They’ll have you under the table before dinner.”
“Ah-kay.” I roll my eyes and allow Donna to lead me into the living room which has now been invaded
by at least 10 members of the Moss clan. She pulls me down next to her on the floor and leans into
me to watch the movie. About halfway through the film, and I use the term loosely, Tim hands me
some green beer which I would be rude to refuse, and from then on it’s like the never-ending cup;
constantly filled at some level with green beer. It helps me get through the movie, so what the hell?
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Josh is trying to keep up with the uncles and this can only end badly. I’m feeling no pain myself, but I’
ve been doing little other than nursing my beer for the past couple hours. I try to get him to eat some
food, but he’s not touching anything green and I’m afraid that encompasses most everything on the
table. I’m relieved when I spot my mother handing him a bowl of pasta. That should help.
“This is delicious!” He shouts. “And it doesn’t smell awful either.”
A chorus of ‘hey’s!’ assault him for the insult to the Irish fare, but he’s too busy eating Mom’s pasta to
even reply. He’s so damn cute.
After supper comes the music and the dancing. Dad loves this part best of all and I have to admit I’ve
missed it being away the last few years. Josh watches, with eyes as big as saucers while my family
twirls one another around the floor. Then Dad and his brother Jimmy do an intricate jig that has
everyone cheering…and drinking.
“Show me how to do that.” Josh demands.
“You’re assuming I KNOW how to do it.”
“YOU know how to do it.” He insists. “Show me.”
I pull him over to the corner and show him a couple simple steps that he picks up pretty quickly
considering Uncle Jimmy has switched Josh over from green beer to whiskey now.
“I’m doing it!” Josh declares proudly and I kiss him for the hell of it. “Teach me something else.
Something we can do together at our Wedding.”
My feet fumble at his words. Wedding? There’s going to be a wedding?
“What did you say?” I grab him by his shirt.
“Teach me some more.” Josh repeats only the part that DOES NOT interest me. He’s pretty drunk by
now. It could be he’s just speaking out of his cups, as Uncle Jimmy likes to say. But I can’t help
thinking there’s more to it than that.
I try to show him another step, but he ends up tripping all over me and almost brings us both down. I
decide we need a time out. I ask Bianca to grab Josh some coffee while I set him down on the couch
to watch the dancing instead of participating in it.
“This is fun!” He declares. “Even though you didn’t tell me about the Mass thing.” He wags his finger
in my face. “Isn’t that what you people call a lie of omission?”
“I refuse to answer on the grounds that I might incriminate myself.” I toss back laughing.
“That’s an amendment, not a commandment.” He informs me. “You should be impressed that I know
that right now ‘cause I’m a little bit drunk, Donnatella.”
“Believe me when I tell you that I’m impressed you can even SAY that right now, ‘cause you’re more
than a little bit drunk, Joshua.” Bianca hands me the coffee for Josh and I pass it over to him with
instruction to drink it up or he’ll regret it in the morning. He dutifully drinks it while occasionally taking
a break to make some comment about one of my relatives.
After his second cup of coffee he doesn’t seem any more sober and now he’s starting on the
cheesehead jokes. Most of my family is too busy drinking to notice or take offense, but I decide not to
risk it and help him upstairs to bed.
“Donna? What are you doing?” Bianca asks.
“Taking him upstairs. The coffee isn’t sobering him up.” I tell her and see her exchange guilty looks
with Carina. “What?”
“I’d just like to point out that you didn’t specify you were giving him coffee to sober him up.” Bianca
begins.
“No…” I give her a glare. “It was…”
“Irish coffee, yes.” She admits. “What else would you expect in our house for the holiday?” She gives
me a weak smile.
“Oh, lord.” I moan and Josh echoes the sentiment, laughing.
“Maybe he should stay here and sober up with us?” She suggests.
“I don’t think so.” I counter.
“He REALLY wanted to stay down here until midnight.” Carina throws her two cents in.
“Josh?” I call his name and his eyes open again for a few seconds before they flutter closed again.
“Yeah, I don’t think he can tell if he’s upstairs or downstairs with his eyes closed.”
“Oh, Donna, I feel so bad.” Bianca whines.
“I think it’s Josh that’s going to be feeling so bad.” I tell her while she helps me, help Josh, upstairs.
He collapses on top of the bed and starts snoring. I was hoping to get some water and aspirin in him
first, but now I can see that clearly isn’t going to happen. “Thanks Bee, I can take it from here.”
“I’ll bet you can.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Stop.” I tell her with my best big sister voice, but since my lips twitch I don’t think it’s going to be as
effective as it could be.
“You really love him, Donna?”
“That’s none of your business, Bee.”
“Donna…” She whines. Why are the people in my life forever whining?
“Yes, I love him, okay?” I shoo her out of the room. “Goodnight.”
“You’re not coming back down?” She pouts, but it’s not as good as mine.
“No, I’m going to stay here and make sure Josh is okay…Irish coffee.” I shake my head and close the
door on her. Once I’ve locked the door, I kick off my shoes and climb into bed next to Josh. He’s so
adorable. He looks relaxed too. I would never have guessed that he’d be able to keep any semblance
of balance in his life as Chief of Staff, but so far he’s doing pretty well with it.
I jump out of bed to get out some asprin and some water and put it on the night table. I have a feeling
he’s going to need that when he wakes up. Then I snuggle up next to him and fall blissfully into sleep.
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I’m in hell. I have died and gone to hell and thousands of demons are pounding on my head as
punishment for all my sins…I must have sinned a lot.
After some careful breathing and detailed planning, I take a risk and open my eyes just a slit. I’m
alarmed to see the room I’m in is not at all familiar. I turn my head slightly which causes me to moan in
pain, but it does let me see the other occupant of the room; Donna. Thank God. Donna will help me.
My moan must have been enough to wake her or she was already awake and just closing her eyes
because her eyes snap open, and then look at me sympathetically.
“I’ve got aspirin and water behind you. Hold on.” She tells me and I hear her open the bottle and
shake a couple pills out. There can’t possibly be enough pills in that bottle to make me feel better.
“Here you go. Can you sit up?”
“Your uncle Jimmy tried to kill me last night Donna.” She laughs and I swear to God that if I could
move I’d pay her back for that. “He did. There’s no way I could drink regular alcohol and not feel any
better after drinking a couple cups of coffee. He spiked the whiskey with something, I know it.”
“Yeah…about that…” Her eyes dart away for a second. “Your coffee was actually what was spiked
with something; it was Irish coffee.”
“What?!” I shout and then have to hold my head while the sound reverberates around my skull. There’
s plenty of room in there now that my brain cells are all dead.
“What? You couldn’t taste the whiskey in the coffee, Joshua?”
“No. You are not turning this around on me. Your family tried to kill me last night.”
“Don’t be silly, Josh, if uncle Jimmy wanted you dead you’d be six feet under by now and they’d never
find your body.” She thinks she’s being funny, but I’m getting the hell out of here.
“It’s a conspiracy.” I whisper shout. “First they weaken me with that awful smelling stuff and then…”
“Are you dissing my mother’s food?”
“Your mother’s food is incredible. That so called traditional Irish whatever is horrible.” I rant. “Then
once the smell has me nauseous, they go in for the kill with the alcohol.”
“Take the aspirin and maybe some sense will return to your head.”
“It was a conspiracy!”
“Against what?” She laughs.
“They didn’t want me to…”
“To what?” She asks patiently.
“Nothing.” I mutter and swallow the pills before I collapse back onto the bed.
“Why don’t you try to sleep for a bit longer? I’ll keep the assassins away from you.” She smirks.
“It’s not funny!”
“It kind of is. Carina got pictures of you trying to jig last night. I’m going to have to email a few copies.”
“You. Wouldn’t.” I growl. This whole plan has not only gone down in flames, but the flames have now
started my hair on fire.
“Well…what could you offer me in exchange for keeping those pictures to myself?” She asks.
“At the moment? Absolutely nothing.” I close my eyes again.
“Maybe I’ll hold on to them and hope for better things later.” She kisses my cheek and rubs a hand
down the other side of my face. I grab her hand and keep it pressed tightly to my face.
“Stay with me.” I request and see her purse her lips in consideration before she lies carefully next to
me on the bed. I move her head until it’s resting on my chest so I can play with her hair. “I screwed
this all up.”
“What did you screw up?” Donna asks. “Mama made you here Alfredo for you so you must have
earned some points there. Dad and Uncle Jimmy were drinking with you; and they don’t share their 20
year old whiskey with just anyone. You did some step dancing with me and my sisters and you weren’t
all that bad either. I’d say it was a pretty good night.”
“That’s not how it was supposed to end.” I complain.
“How was it supposed to end, Joshua?”
“At midnight when I asked you to marry you while they played that song you love from the Darby
movie.”
“Oh My God you’re still drunk.” She sits up.
“NO! I’m just hung over now.” …and still single.
”Donna? I heard voices, are you two awake?” Tim Moss asks through the closed door. Donna gives
me a look that says we are NOT done with this conversation and carefully extricates herself from me
and opens the door. Mr. Moss looks greatly relieved that we’re still both fully clothed in the articles we
were wearing last night. “Ah! Good morning. I thought you might be suffering a bit this morning so I
brought you something to drink.”
“Coffee?” I ask plaintively.
“Better.” He walks over to me while I try to sit up. “It’s a bit of the hair of the dog that bit you.” He
hands me a glass that I try to wave away. “Trust me, it’ll help.” He shakes his head at me. “Whatever
possessed you to try to keep up with my brother Jimmy?”
“You did!” I accuse and he laughs.
“No, I never could.” He shakes his head sadly. “Every other drink goes directly into the potted plant in
the corner of the room; it’s plastic.” He confides. “Why do you think I always insist on sitting in that
chair? Drink this up and you’ll feel better in no time.” He winks and leaves us again. I look suspiciously
at the glass.
“I’d try it. Dad would have occasion to know the remedy for this particular malady.” I take a hesitant
sip. “Now can we please get back to our discussion of how the evening was supposed to end?”
“I don’t think so.” I refuse. “It’s all ruined anyway.”
She gives me one of her exasperated looks. “Joshua!”
“I mean it. Maybe I’ll give it another try on a regular holiday…like groundhogs day or something.”
“Groundhogs day isn’t until next February!” She huffs and bounces onto the bed next to me. I think
she did it on purpose because as I groan from the movement of the bed there’s a distinct twinkle in
her eyes. Donna can be very cunning. Is it any wonder I adore this woman? “Joshua…” She pouts.
“Your sister was supposed to put on that sappy song from Darby that you’re always singing on St.
Patrick’s Day…”
“’A Pretty Irish Girl’?” She interrupts me to ask.
“Yeah, and then I was gonna ask you…to…marry me.”
“That sounds perfect.” She smiles.
“Only in my mind.”I mutter. “I blew everything…and now I’m not sure I want to marry into this
murderous lot of yours.” She laughs and strokes my head.
“We’ll be living in DC, we’ll hardly ever see them.” She counters.
“You’ve still got their genes.” I argue.
“I’m sure the Lyman genes can beat them into submission.” She chuckles. “Ask me Joshua.”
“No, it’s all ruined now.”
“It is NOT.” She plants a gentle kiss on my lips and that makes me feel much better than the
concoction her father gave me. We should do a Government study on the recuperative powers of
Donna’s kisses. No. That’s a bad idea. She’d probably have to kiss other people and I’m against that.
“Ask me.”
“Donna, Mom says you two are to come downstairs for some real food.” Bianca pops her head in.
“You are a traitor!” I shout at her. She was supposed to help me with the plan; turn the music on for
me and make sure things went smoothly.
“I thought you needed a little Irish courage!” She laughs too. What is it with these Moss women
laughing at me all the time? I glare at her so she ducks out again. But a few seconds later, the strains
of Pretty Irish Girl can be heard from the other room. Only 8 hours too late by my calculations.
“Whenever I’m with you I hear music.” Donna teases and kisses me again. It turns heated of it’s own
volition and I’m struck again by how much I love and need this woman.
“Marry me.” I tell her.
“That didn’t SOUND like a question.” She complains but continues the kissing.
“If I ask you then you could say ‘no’. I like my way better.” I explain.
“Yes, but I surely won’t respond to a demand to marry you, so that won’t turn out well for you either.”
She reasons.
“Fine…Will you marry me?” I ask quietly.
“Shouldn’t there be a ring to go with this question?” She teases.
“Dear God, woman.” I sit up a bit and dig in my pocket for the ring box and which point Donna starts
laughing hysterically.
“Is that a ring in your pocket or are you happy to see me.” She jokes.
“That’s it. I’m done.” I get up shakily from the bed. “This has turned from a romantic marriage
proposal to some kind of bawdy farce; a sure sign of doom.”
She collapses back on the bed laughing so hard that tears are running down her face. “You are so
perfect for me, Josh Lyman.” She beams over at me and stops my movement toward the door. Then
she gets up and saunters over to me, there’s no other word for it, the woman saunters. She leans in
to kiss me again and I feel her hands moving all over in ways that would surely have her father
offering me something less medicinal and more poisonous to drink. When we break apart she’s
holding the ring box she’s obviously liberated from my pants pocket between us.
“I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?” She asks and my lips twitch.
“That was supposed to be my line.”
“It was. I was just helping you with your delivery.”
“So…will you marry me?” I repeat dutifully.
“Anytime. Anyplace. Anywhere.” She replies.
“Well…it doesn’t look like the Catholic Church here will welcome us but…”She interrupts my musings
with a searing kiss right before we’re interrupted by her sisters, and then her parents who come in to
congratulate us. Donna looks happy, I feel happy, and she’s wearing my ring…but I am NEVER
spending St. Patrick’s Day here again.
“A Pretty Irish Girl”
Have you ever seen the seagulls
A-flyin' o'er the heather
Or the crimson sails on Galway Bay
The fishermen unfurl
Oh, the earth is filled with beauty
And its gathered all together
In the form and face and dainty grace
Of a pretty Irish girl
Oh, she's my dear, my darlin' one
Her eyes so sparklin' full of fun
No other, no other
Can match the likes of her
She's my dear, my darlin' one
My smilin' and beguilin' one
I love the ground she walks upon
My pretty Irish girl
Have you ever seen the morning in
Kerry and Killarny
When the dew is on the hayrick
And ev'ry drop a pearl
When the geese are full of blarney
And the thrush is singing Gaelic
And standing in the doorway
Is a Pretty Irish Girl
Oh, she's my dear, my darlin' one
Her eyes so sparklin' full of fun
No other, no other
Can match the likes of her
She's my dear my darlin' one
My smilin' and beguilin' one
I love the ground she walks upon
My pretty Irish girl
When I'm parted from my darlin'
My sighs would sail a schooner
And when I cannot reach her, sure
My tears would turn a mill
Since she cannot be unkind
To any helpless creature
I think that I will marry me
A pretty Irish Girl
Oh, she's my dear, my darlin' one
Her eyes so sparklin' full of fun
No other, no other
Can match the likes of her
She's my dear my darlin' one
My smilin' and beguilin' one
I love the ground she walks upon
My pretty Irish girl