It’s a wonderful story, really, I’ve always told Peter it could be made into a movie or a book. He laughs when I tell him he’s better than any hero in those romantic novels kid’s read these days, but I think it’s true all the same.

My name is Alice. Alice Taylor back then. The day we met was a happy one to begin with. It wasn’t long after I’d started earning my money through entertainment instead of waiting tables at the pub. My dear friend Brent was beautifully playing the fiddle beside me, making it look easy with the way he performed. It was a simple tune, but nobody in Raliegh was looking for anything too fancy anyway. I, for one, was satisfied with keeping things simple, and to be honest had hardly left the island. Oh sure, I’ve traveled to the mainland a few times and even the states once, but without a proper tour guide I felt a little out of place. Home is where I was comfortable, both in mind and financially. A few years back I had tried moving to College of the North Atlantic which wasn’t [i]too[/i] far away, but after a semester I quit and moved right back to Raliegh for my job at Fiddler’s Green. It wasn’t that I couldn’t, or didn’t like new places…I just didn’t see anything I wanted to do there. Why not stick with what makes me happy, I say. I thought if I found something else that made me happy, I’d go for it. But until then, home was where my heart was. 

At any rate, the pub [i]was[/i] home for me, and one day after my shift had ended I jumped up on stage and started dancing to Brent’s tune. I think it surprised everyone by the looks on their faces, and from that day on I’d been asked to stop serving drinks and dance when the crowds were heaviest. Fine by me, and I’d been at it for a couple months when Peter came in. I have to admit I didn’t see him- I was too immersed in what I was doing. My golden waves of hair fell freely down my back to my shoulder blades, kept out of my blue eyes by a red ribbon tied up as a hairband. It matched the dress I distinctly remember wearing that day- a red sleeveless that followed my curves without clinging to them and had a high neck to my collarbone, the skirt of it only coming down a few inches above my knees. With my height it was always difficult finding any dress longer than that, and the comfortable feel of cotton skimming across my thighs as I twirled made me smile even more, if that was possible. No matter how bad a day was, moving to a beautifully played song could always cheer me up.

Near the end of the song I raised my hands above my head and started clapping to the beat as my feet continued to move like I was born clogging, the happy crowd raising their beers or clapping along to make more noise. Finally the music stopped, as did I, and the crowd cheered, asking for more. Fortunately for me, as it would become a special day, I had been at it for a while and was in need of a break. “We’ll be back up, I promise, but Brent here needs a break if he’s going to keep up with me,”I told them with a wink and that ever present smile, giving a playful bow before jumping down to the floor and walking to the bar, clearly out of breath as I sat on a stool. Brent teasingly rolled his eyes with a shrug, following me off and going to the back.