The room fell silent, every set of eyes fixed on me.
“First,” I continued, “we’re going to make a lot of noise. Social media, local press, and maybe even national coverage. We’re going to tell the world what’s happening here and why it matters. We’ll frame Ballybeg as a symbol of what’s worth protecting—a place where tradition and community come first.”
Geraldine, who had Poppy in a basket by her feet, nodded approvingly. “Damn right.”
“I’ve already done an interview with ESPN and a couple with sports magazines. They’ll start running over the next few days.”
Now came the tricky part.
“Second, we’re going to protect your property when it comes to the tax bill. I’ve already bought parcels the developers will likely need—though that’s moving slower than we’d hoped—and without them, I’m betting they’ll think twice about pushing the project forward.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Cormac O’Murphy, the ornery bastard who ran the barber shop, raised his hand. “And how exactly are we paying for all this, Yank?”
I resisted clearing my throat and kept my voice level. “That’s where I come in.”
Dee had warned me that the village would not look kindly upon charity.
Voices rose immediately. Calls that no one in Ballybeg needed a handout came ringing through.
“Silence,” Dee said like she was the Ceann Comhairle keeping order in a rowdy Dáil session.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking, who’s this rich Yank prick who’s thinking he can ride in here on his white horse.” She stood tall as she spoke, and I didn’t think any woman had a right to look as powerfully beautiful as she did.
“We all need help from time to time, and as a village and community, we offer that help. Remember when Paddy’s roof caved in last winter? Half the village showed up with hammers and nails, and the rest sent food or tea to keep us all going until it was patched up. And who paid for the materials? Liam Ryan did and didn’t ask for a single penny back.”
She looked around, letting everyone recollect that particular gesture of neighborliness, before adding, “And what about when Myrna’s car gave up last spring, and she was left without a way to get her kids to school? It was Seamus who loaned her his car for weeks, even though we all know he loves that old thing more than life itself.”
The crowd muttered their agreement, nodding.
“And the time when Poppy needed surgery, and I didn’t have my pension yet,” Geraldine said with a small smile, “Noreen loaned me the money.”
“When my bakery flooded, Deehelped me with funds because my insurance screwed me over,” Cadhla recollected.
Dee pressed on, her eyes locking on each of them. “That’s what we do here in Ballybeg. We show up for each other. We lend a hand, we share what we have, and we ask for nothing in return but the promise that one day, when it’s our turn, someone will be there for us, too.”
She paused, and I swear the room leaned in closer, hanging on her every word. “So, I can’t see why we should turn away Jax’s help. He’s my man, and he’s one of us. And whether you like it or not, Ballybeg is as much his fight now as it is ours.”
Murmurs of approval went through the pub.
I wanted to walk up to Dee and crush her to me, hold her close. When she’d said she trusted me, I wasn’t sure if she meant it, but now, after hearing her tell everyone who was most important to her that I was her man told me clearly that she was mine as much as I was hers.
Paddy rose, shoving his hands into his pockets. “As you know, I couldn’t pay the taxes on my land once they shot up.” He stared down at his boots. “Didn’t sit right with me. And when Jax said he’d cover it, I nearly decked the lad. I don’t need anyone’s money.”
Then he looked up at me and smiled.
“But he’s my friend. And if he ever needed me, I’d give him the shirtoff my back.”
Seamus leaned back in his chair. “I’m in. Anything to stick it to that smug prick Cillian?”
A round of cheers went up.
“Good.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “Because this plan is not just about saving Ballybeg, it’s about sending a message to people like Cillian and the developers he’s working with that they can’t just walk over villages like ours. They think they can squeeze us out of our homes. Let’s show them they’re dead wrong.”
The pub erupted into applause, and I felt a surge of pride for the people of Ballybeg. When the noise died down, I glanced at Dee, who was watching me with love in her eyes.
“We can do this”—I met her gaze—“together.”
