The Delaney Woman (13 page)

Tom turned on the tap in the shower, tested the water and stepped into the stall. Twenty minutes later she still hadn't returned. He felt the familiar burn in his stomach signaling the beginning of panic. Where was she? What was she thinking? He had no regrets. He wouldn't take back the night, not even if it meant they'd crossed a divide, not even if they could no longer continue as they had.

Tom didn't know what he felt for this mystery woman who'd invaded his life. It wasn't love. Not yet. He was fairly sure of that. He didn't love quickly or easily and he was long past the time when desire and love are one and the same. He knew enough to know that love required honesty, trust and the possibility of commitment. All three were missing in the relationship that he and Kellie shared. He intended to remedy that immediately.

He could wait no longer. It was time to see Heather. He would leave the car for Kellie and take the bus to the hospital.

Heather was sitting up in bed chatting with her grandmother when he arrived. Careful not to disturb the tubes, he hugged her gently.

“Where's Kellie?” she asked immediately.

Tom settled back against the pillows. “She'll be along. She had to run a few errands.”

Satisfied with his explanation, Heather leaned into him. “I want to go home, Da,” she whimpered. “My arm hurts.”

He looked down at the small hand. The skin around the tiny catheter was red and angry looking. “Have they noticed this?” He held up her hand for his mother to see.

Susan frowned. “I don't think so.”

Tom pushed the red button near the bed. Several minutes later a nurse appeared.

He pointed to the welt on Heather's hand. “What's this?”

The nurse frowned. “Poor little love. She's probably knocked it against something in her sleep.”

“When can she have this taken out?”

“When the doctor feels that she's out of danger. Most likely another day or so. Would you like me to ask her?”

“Thank you. I would. Meanwhile, she's in pain. Can you do something?”

“I'll check and see if that's possible. She's very young for pain medication.”

“She's young to be here at all.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

Susan squeezed her son's arm. “There's no point in biting her head off, Tom. Heather will get better care if you're sympathetic.”

Tom grimaced. “You're right. I'm not myself.”

Heather was nodding off. Susan lowered her voice. “What errands could Kellie have in Belfast?”

“Her mam is here. Kellie grew up in Belfast.”

Susan's eyes narrowed. She reached across the bed and took her son's hands in her own. “Listen to me, Tom, and listen well. You've been given a second chance. Don't throw away a blessing when God hands you one.”

Tom stared at his mother. “She won't talk to me, Mam. I know nothing about her.”

“I know you, Tom. You're still thinking of Claire. But you haven't lost anything there. This one is a gift. Take care of her.”

“Have you considered why Kellie might be here?”

“I've thought many things. I know she's troubled. That's plain to see. Make her trust you, Tom. She's a good woman. I know it in my heart.”

K
ellie stared out the window of bus number thirty-two. Time rolled back. Barbed wire curled around the new brick fence separating the Catholic Falls from the Protestant Shankill. The old row houses were gone now, replaced by identical brick dwellings on tidy streets. Tricycles and prams, rusted swing sets and tin cans, paper bags, pieces of raw wood and used brick littered the small treeless yards. Clotheslines stretched across every available space flouting sheets, table linens and nappies. Women, old before their time, accompanied schoolchildren with light eyes and pale skin, dressed in the plaid skirts and gray trousers that proclaimed their heritage, their religion and, above all, their politics. This was the Falls, a small enclave of Catholic life in the Protestant world of Ulster.

Not much had changed in fifteen years despite the Peace Accord and new civil rights for Catholics. Poverty didn't discriminate, not here in the blue-collar neighborhoods of her youth. The same jumble of streets, graffiti-covered walls, murals with portraits of martyrs and masked men imploring those who looked upon them to remember that Northern Ireland was an occupied country and the British were the enemy.

The bus stopped at the corner of the Springfield Road and Divas Street. The old bookstore was still there, flanked by the library and a shop specializing in religious icons. Kellie stepped off the platform and made her way down to where the Falls Road began. She hadn't called to say she was coming. She still wasn't sure that she would actually go through with it.

Her steps slowed as the familiar streets brought her closer and closer to her past. The small house the Delaney children had once called home sat close to the footpath. The door was painted red, a new bright touch. Even though the day was gray and drizzly, the windows were open, a habit Mary Delaney had cultivated to accommodate the male smokers in her family.

Tentatively, Kellie knocked on the door. Long seconds passed. She was very aware of her heart racing in her chest. Footsteps sounded behind the door. It opened and she stared into her mother's face.

Mrs. Delaney's eyes widened. Her mouth opened as if she would speak. She closed it without saying anything.

“Hello, Mam.” Kellie could barely form the words.

“Hello, yourself.” She held the door half open, her body barring the entrance.

“May I come in?”

Slowly, Mary moved aside. Kellie walked through the door and looked around. The dim light revealed that nothing had changed. The sagging couch was the same one where Kellie had curled up to learn her letters. The tea table and china closet were in the same spot on opposite sides of each other. Even the pictures on the mantel were the same. The only change was the television. It was a recent model, smaller and lighter than Kellie remembered. Just now it blared loudly announcing the contestants of a popular quiz show.

Her mother wiped her hands on her apron and turned it off. She waved Kellie to the couch. “Sit down.”

Kellie sat. “How have you been?” she began.

“Just grand. And you?”

Kellie nodded. “I'm well enough, considering.”

“How are you gettin' on without Connor and the boy?”

“I'm managing.” Kellie's eyes were bright and dry.

Mrs. Delaney sat down across from her in a hard- backed chair. “Aye,” she said softly. “No one should lose a child, especially not the good ones. It hasn't been easy to sleep at night. You haven't called in months. It isn't like you. I was beginnin' to worry.”

The hard tight knot in Kellie's stomach began to dissolve. “Why didn't you come to Lizzie's funeral?”

“Connor didn't call me until the night before. I tried to call but no one answered. I can't talk into those machines.”

“Would you have come?”

Her mother's gray eyes clouded. She wiped away a tear with the corner of her apron. “Aye,” she whispered. “For that I would have come.”

Kellie could no longer control the hurt. Her hands came up to cover her face. Tears fell through the spaces between her fingers. “I'm in trouble, Mam. Terrible trouble.”

She felt the couch beside her give and heard her mother's words. “Tell me.”

In a halting voice, Kellie began by describing her first meeting with Cecil Marsh and John Griffith. A smattering of sunlight filtered through the blinds as she continued, leaving nothing out, nothing except the events of the night before. She wasn't sure yet how to describe her feelings for Tom Whelan. She would wait a bit, put last night in the think-about-it-later portion of her brain until she was better able to sort it out.

Her mother's face had frozen into an expressionless horror. “Are you sayin' that Connor and Danny were murdered and you're tryin' to figure it out all by yourself?”

Kellie nodded. “I don't know what I'm doing anymore.”

“These people don't play games, lass. You're in danger.”

“I know.”

“Why can't you just go home?”

“It's Tom's little girl. She's very ill. I can't just leave them. Besides, there's more. I want to know why Connor and Danny were killed. It isn't enough to know who did it.” She looked helplessly at her mother. “I don't even know why it's so important to me. Maybe I'm being foolish. That's why I came home, Mam. I need your advice.”

Mary's eyebrows rose. “Since when have you listened to me?” she muttered.

“I'm listening now,” Kellie said softly.

Mary stood. “Come into the kitchen. I'll make a pot of tea.”

Despite herself, Kellie smiled. Was there any darkness that couldn't be erased by a pot of her mother's tea? Kellie recognized the offering for what it was. A peace offering. She was back in the fold.

“You're in quite a spot, Kellie Delaney,” her mother said when they were seated at the small table in the kitchen, the teapot between them.

Kellie nodded. The brew was strong and sweet and comforting.

“Tell me about Tom Whelan.”

Color flooded Kellie's cheeks. “I believe he's a good man although he wasn't always.”

“Show me a man who claims to be always good and I'll show you a liar,” Mary said wryly.

“He loves his daughter very much and he's been kind to me.”

“Why do you think he's tolerated you at all?”

“Curiosity. He wants to know why I'm staying in Banburren.”

“Tell him,” Mary suggested.

Kellie frowned. The idea had occurred to her. “I don't know.”

“Why not? Two heads are better than one. If he's a good man he'll help you.”

“What if by telling him, I'm putting him in danger?”

“I would say it's a bit late for that. You won't be playing games with the likes of Dennis McGarrety for very long, love. Something must be done and done quickly. Tom Whelan is your best chance, perhaps the only one.”

“McGarrety had Connor and Danny killed.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Not in so many words, but by implication.” She looked at her mother. “What do you think?”

Mary's face softened. She reached across the space separating them and squeezed her daughter's hand. “I never did like the idea of Connor workin' for Scotland Yard. I wouldn't rule it out that McGarrety had it in for him.”

When it was time to leave, Mary didn't ask when she would see her daughter again and Kellie made no promises.

It was early afternoon when the bus dropped her on the Stranmillis Road. She let herself into the bed-and-breakfast, climbed the stairs and opened the door to the room she shared with Tom. The curtains were drawn against the feeble light. Kellie stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes.

Sleep evaded her. She tossed and turned and finally sat up. It occurred to her that Tom didn't know where she was. She looked at the clock. Half past two. He would be at the hospital with Heather. She wanted to be there, too, and wondered if Tom wanted her there or if she was encroaching where she didn't belong.

The thought of seeing him at the hospital with Susan and Heather didn't feel right. Still, he should know where she was. Kellie picked up the phone and punched in the number to the hospital.

Tom's first reaction was relief, his second, anger.

“Don't do that again,” he said fiercely.

Surprised by his vehemence, she apologized.

“Do you have any idea what I've been through?” he demanded.

“I'm sorry,” she said again. “I didn't think.”

“Where have you been?”

She nearly told him when she remembered that the room wasn't secure. “I'll tell you in a bit”

“Are you coming to the hospital?”

“Do you want me there?”

“Lord, yes.”

There was no doubting his sincerity.

“I'll be right there.”

“I left the car for you.”

“I'll shower first. Give me an hour.”

“We'll be waiting.”

She stepped into the shower smiling. He wanted her.
They
wanted her. She felt different, lighter, sharper, not quite happy. Happiness was too much of a step with everything else on her mind, but she was somewhere on the border of satisfied.

Kellie liked living with Tom and Heather. It was almost like being married. She liked the rituals, the regular meals, the sharing of dishes, of work space, the occasional conversations, the presence of another filling the empty space in a room.

Last night she'd slept her first dreamless, uninterrupted sleep in months. Kellie admitted that she was attracted to Tom Whelan, dangerously so. The line of courtesy they'd created had been crossed. The question now was could she trust him? What would happen to the two of them once he knew everything?

Trust was a learned response, Kellie decided, something entirely subjective depending on one's experience. It was against human nature to trust beyond the blood circle. Survival instincts dating from eons ago when man first walked upright precluded the very idea of leaving oneself open to danger, physical or otherwise. For Kellie, born into an unfriendly world where men and women watched their backs, trust did not come easily. Her decision to confide in Tom would not be a simple one to make.

She crossed the Malone Road, taking the back streets to the hospital.

Heather's doctor flagged her down in the car park.

“How are you today, Mrs. Whelan?”

She'd forgotten Tom's fabrication. “Please, call me Kellie. I'm grand, thank you.”

“Your daughter is progressing nicely. I'll be signing the release order tomorrow. Can you bear us for one more night?”

Kellie smiled warmly. She liked this unpretentious, frank-speaking young woman and she was embarrassed about the deception. “You've been lovely. Whatever is best for Heather will be fine.”

“All the tests have come back and they look good. Don't coddle her,” the doctor warned. “She'll be out of school for another two weeks or so, and she'll need more rest than usual but otherwise she should do what she normally does. Exercise is particularly important.”

Kellie nodded. “I'll remember that.”

“I've already spoken to your husband. I believe he's with Heather now.”

“I'll go up and see them.”

Tom stood when she walked into the room. The brief brushing of his lips across her own was new. It startled her. To cover her confusion, she avoided his eyes and went directly to Heather. “How are you, darling?”

The child's smile was strained. “I want to go home.”

“You shall, but not until tomorrow. Is that soon enough for you?”

“I want to go now.”

Kellie sat down on the bed. Careful to avoid the IV attached to the little girl's hand, she drew Heather gently into her arms. “I know, love. But you've had a serious operation and you need to be completely fixed before we can take you home.”

“When will I stop hurting?”

“Every day it will get a bit better,” Kellie promised, “and in about two weeks you won't even remember the hurt at all. Then you can go back to school and be with your friends.”

Heather thought a minute, her face grave. “Everyone will be very surprised when I tell them what happened to me.”

“Without a doubt, you'll be the talk of the school.”

Heather held up her hand. “May I bring my hospital bracelet and show it?”

“You may.”

She leaned back against the pillow. “I'll stay until tomorrow.”

“Good girl.”

The nurse arrived with a wheelchair. “This won't take long,” she promised, “but you'll have to leave for now. I'll be taking Heather to the laboratory for a bit, just to check things out before her release.”

“How long?” Tom asked.

“About an hour.”

“We'll be back.” He took Kellie's arm and walked with her down the hall and into the lobby.

“Have you had lunch?” she asked.

“No.”

“Neither have I. There's a pub nearby that has reasonable food. We could eat now and skip dinner later.”

They walked side by side down the wide street. “How well do you know East Belfast?” Tom asked.

“I grew up in the Falls, but I know the east as well because of Queen's.”

He whistled under his breath. “A girl from West Belfast who went to Queen's University. Have you always been out of the ordinary?”

Kellie considered the question. “Yes,” she said, after a bit, “although I would have called myself odd. The connotation is different”

“I see what you mean. I imagine it was difficult for you to have aspirations to an education.”

“My mother encouraged me and the nuns helped.”

“How many of you were there?”

“Seven. I'm in the middle. I don't see them regularly.”

Tom's eyebrows lifted. “Why is that?”

“I'm not sure, really. We drifted apart when I went to university.”