The Delaney Woman (14 page)

“Belfast isn't large enough to drift apart.”

She took a deep breath, feeling like an exposed onion whose layers have been peeled away. “It was after I left for England.”

“How long were you there?”

“Four years.”

He nodded. “How old are you, Kellie?”

She laughed. After all they'd shared, the basics were still unknowns. “Thirty-five.”

“You look younger. I would have said ten years younger.”

“I think there's a window where not much changes. It will catch up with me, I imagine.”

His tips twitched. “Undoubtedly.”

The pub was dim, upscale, with cozy candlelit booths arranged for privacy. Stained-glass windows filtered in amber, rose and golden light. A fire burned in the hearth and the long wooden bar gleamed with polish and care.

Several tables were occupied by young people, obviously students, and at the bar solitary men sat nursing their pints.

Tom slid into the booth beside her. “Very nice. Was this one of your old haunts?”

Kellie shook her head. “I found this yesterday. Fifteen years ago when I was in school this place didn't exist. Belfast, as you probably know, was a war zone.”

He did know. He remembered it all too well—the bombed-out ruins that once were buildings, burning lorries, limbs strewn amidst the rubble, British soldiers on every corner, tanks patrolling the streets, sullen youths perpetually unemployed loitering aimlessly and eager for trouble. At thirty-five Kellie had been a mere two years behind him. Where had she been, he wondered, during those difficult days? When had she made the leap that took her away from it all and what had brought her back? “I want to thank you for being here for Heather and me,” he said.

A flag of red colored her cheeks. “If you're referring to last night, I wouldn't exactly call it an act of compassion.”

“What would you call it?”

She looked directly at him, eyes wide and clear and silvery gray. “Lust,” she said softly and smiled. “You're very attractive and it's been a long time for me. I miss having someone touch me.”

He stared at her, stunned. Then he threw back his head and laughed. Several heads turned in their direction. “Good lord,” he said, “I can't believe you said that. It's so completely out of character.”

She reached for the menu. “Not really. There's quite a bit you don't know about me.”

“That I believe.”

Again her words surprised him. “I think I'm going to tell you everything.”

His stomach clenched. Afraid to breathe, afraid that his slightest move would make her change her mind, he waited.

F
irst, I'd like a glass of white wine, the steamed mussels and a salad. If we order now, we won't be disturbed.” She spoke clearly, calmly, her voice filled with purpose. It was a new side of her, a woman sure of herself, with a cool, intent resolve.

“I'll be right back,” he said. Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood, walked to the bar and ordered. It gave him a moment to think, to clarify his questions, the important ones that must be asked in case she changed her mind before he'd learned what he needed to know.

But when he was seated across from her again, their food untouched, there was no need for him to say anything at all. Once she began talking everything became terrifyingly clear.

Her words were deliberate, cold, pitched so that only he could hear. “My twin brother, Connor, worked for British Intelligence. We were very close. His wife died shortly after their only child was born. I went to Oxford for the funeral and ended up staying. Connor really needed me. I had no idea that my brother was anything more than a criminologist. I wondered how he could live so well, but I didn't really give it much thought. He'd planned a vacation in Wales with his son. Shortly after they left, a police officer told me there had been an auto accident, no survivors.” Her voice caught, choking the words.

Tom watched her leave him and go somewhere else in her mind, a survival instinct she must have learned to separate herself from the pain of her memory. He knew it well.

“He was taking Danny to the coast for a holiday when the brakes failed.”

Tom realized this was the point where he should have expressed sympathy but somehow he knew she couldn't bear it. “Were they cut?” he asked instead.

“Yes.”

“Then what?”

“A man named John Griffith came to see me. He said Connor was working on something and he needed access to his home computer. I wasn't comfortable but I allowed him in the house.” She grimaced. “It's absurd, really. As if those people need permission to enter a house. Maybe it was easier than sneaking around. That's when I found Connor's passports in the garage as well as some very revealing correspondence.” She looked directly at him. “Your name was on two receipts.”

“My name?” Tom's eyebrows rose.

Kellie nodded. “At first I didn't know what to do. I hid everything in my car. Then I picked up his suit at the cleaners. On a piece of paper in his coat pocket was a phone number.”

“Let me guess. It was mine.”

Again she nodded. “I visited Connor's office. John Griffith was there with another man, Cecil Marsh. I implied that I knew more than I did. That's when they went a step further and told me his death was intentional, that the brakes were cut. I told them about the receipts. Basically, they told me they had bigger fish to fry than to focus on Connor's murder investigation.” Her eyes were wide and very bright. “Their disregard infuriated me. That's when I came here.”

The unasked question hung between them, so obvious it was almost physical. Finally, he asked it. “Did you think it was me?”

“At first, yes, especially when I learned about the life you once led.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Two things.” She sipped her wine. Her hands shook. “Living with you, watching you with Heather and Lexi, listening to your music. I don't believe you would do such a thing.”

“Thank you for that.”

“My intuition was confirmed when I was approached by Dennis McGarrety.”

He laughed shortly. “Is he still around? I haven't heard anything from Dennis in a long time. The IRA is nearly an anachronism. But you already know that.”

“How would I know such a thing?”

“By reading the newspapers and visiting your family in Belfast. Paramilitaries no longer have the support of the community. The population is intent on peace. Without community support the IRA can't exist.” Even to his own ears his voice sounded harsh.

The desolation in her voice chilled him. “Why did my brother have your number in his pocket?”

Tom pushed his food away. “I don't know. I've never heard of Connor Delaney.”

“You do know Austin Groves?”

The name sounded familiar. He thought a minute and remembered. “The man who ordered the pipes.”

“Yes.”

“Austin Groves is your brother?”

“That was the name on one of his passports.”

Tom frowned, trying to recreate his telephone conversations with the man. Was there something he'd missed? Finally, he shook his head. “We spoke of nothing except specifics about his instrument. He was the man with a sister who loved the pipes. Are you that sister?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry, Kellie.”

Her eyes shone with hope. “That's it? You had no association other than a pipe order?”

He hated to wipe the light from her eyes. It was rare enough. “There's more, Kellie. Surely you can see that. It's all too coincidental. Your brother wanted something from me and he made contact through the pipe order. It would be a mistake to believe otherwise.”

“Dennis McGarrety had him killed.”

Tom's eyes narrowed. “Did he tell you that?”

She swallowed and lifted her water glass to her lips. Her hand shook.

“Not exactly. He told me to go home, that you were in danger. He said Connor gave his life for a man who would change the direction of Northern Ireland.”

He leaned forward. “We've got to sort this out, Kellie. It's clear that your brother was on to something and that it involved me. Otherwise you wouldn't have been approached or threatened by McGarrety.”

“What shall we do?”

“There are still a few out there who will talk to me.

She relaxed. She'd been right to trust him. They were in this together. Her heart lifted. For the first time in months she allowed herself to hope. Kellie picked up her fork. His next question shattered her fragile security.

“When this is over will you go back to Oxford?”

Her mind went blank.
When this is over
. She hadn't thought about it, never once considered it. “I don't know, really,” she said. “I don't think so.” The idea was not appealing. She didn't want to go back to the same streets, the same city where Connor and Danny were part of her life. The memories crowded in on her. She didn't trust herself to speak.

Tom's voice reached out to her, flooding her senses like warm oil on chapped hands. “You don't have to think about it now. We'll worry about it when the time comes.”

She nodded and pushed the mussels around on her plate with her fork.

He reached out and gripped her hand. “We'll sort this out, Kellie. I promise you we will.”

She looked at him, her eyes bright. “But what will be left when it's over?”

“No one can predict the future, but that's true for anyone. We'll take what comes and see what happens.”

“Do we have a choice?”

“No.” He grinned, and suddenly everything seemed possible.

Heather was very weak. Caring for her consumed Kellie's time to such a degree that her own plight was pushed to the back of her mind. The entire household revolved around the little girl's comfort. Even Lexi sensed that all was not as it should be. She lay beside Heather's bed, motionless, her head resting on her paws, her eyes alert.

Tirelessly, Kellie created confectionery delights in the kitchen, read stories endlessly and played board games until her mind froze with the monotony of it. When she could take no more she changed places with Tom, grabbed Lexi's leash and walked down lovely country lanes where green hills covered with gorse rose before her. She'd forgotten how lovely Ireland could be when the days lengthened and the weather turned from bone-chilling to brisk, when lads rode bicycles and pitched coins into the rivers, when mist lay like gray smoke over the land, when priests played hurling in the streets and flocks of sheep crowded the main roads, slowing traffic to a crawl. Banburren, a community with a Nationalist population, seemed very far away from the hostile environment Kellie remembered from her childhood.

The walks stimulated her, the cold and the hills stretching her body and sharpening her mind. It was then that she considered her predicament, racking her brain to reach some solution. Nothing came to her.

Schoolchildren lingered on the streets and shops were as crowded as they would ever be in Banburren. Lovely Kate, Tom's sister-in-law, waved to her from the market. Keeping a firm hold on Lexi's leash, Kellie crossed the street and met her at the entrance.

“How lovely to run into you,” Kate said. “Do you have time for tea?”

Touched by the rare invitation, Kellie nodded. Kate was always friendly but she'd never extended herself in Kellie's direction. “I'd love it if you don't mind Lexi.”

“Of course not. You can tie her up by the door. Everyone knows Lexi. I'll just leave my purchases in the car and we can walk together.”

“How is Heather?” Kate asked when they were seated at a small table.

“Much better. She'll be back at school next Monday.”

“That's grand. Poor little love.” She shrugged out of her coat and looked around. “What I wouldn't give for a cup of B
ewley's
.”

“You'll have to go back to Dublin for that.”

Kate sighed. “It's tempting.”

Kellie sipped her tea. “Why don't you go back? Banburren is lovely, but wouldn't Dublin offer you more?”

Kate's eyes, very green and fringed with thick black lashes, narrowed. “In terms of culture and entertainment, I suppose that's true. However, teachers aren't paid all that well. It's less expensive to live here. Besides, the Whelans are here and they're all the family I have anymore.” She smiled brightly. “How is the job at the library coming along?”

“It isn't. Not since Heather's illness.”

“Where is she now?”

“At home, with Tom.”

Kate hesitated.

“What is it?” Kellie asked.

“Never mind. It's nothing.”

Kellie didn't know her well enough to continue to persuade her.

“Oh, all right.” Kate shook her head and the dark curls spilled over her shoulders. “I wonder how you're managing with Tom. After all, it's been seven years since he's lived with a woman. Has it been difficult for you?”

Kellie considered the young woman seated across from her taking in the glossy dark hair, the perfect features, the clear skin and the color coming and going in her cheeks. She really was lovely. It was possible that she was merely curious, but there was something else, too. An odd emotion, rusty and long-buried rose within her. “Not difficult,” she said carefully, “but cautious.”

“Are you—” she hesitated “—involved?”

Kellie stared at her.

“We all thought you were,” Kate said quickly.

“All?”

“Maggie and everyone.”

“I see.”

“Don't be upset. It isn't that we're talking behind your back.”

“Of course not.” Kellie smiled sweetly.

“Tom surprised us, that's all, falling for you so quickly.”

Kellie picked up a spoon and stirred her tea. “Who was most surprised?”

“I couldn't say, really,” Kate stammered. “My goodness, you do ask the most peculiar questions.”

The anger simmering in Kellie's chest leaped to life. “I have one that's even more peculiar.”

“What is it?”

“Did you have aspirations in that direction, Kate?”

“No,” she said, a bit too sharply. The red deepened in her cheeks.

Kellie continued to smile. “I'm relieved to hear that.”

A voice called out, interrupting them. “Hello, you, two. What a lovely surprise.”

Susan Whelan waved from the door.

“Susan!” Kate jumped up and pulled out another chair. “Please, join us.”

The older woman shook her head, took one look at Kate's face and another at Kellie's and changed her mind. “I wouldn't object to a cup of strong tea,” she said and sat down.

Kellie had passed the point of diplomacy. “We were just discussing how my coming to Banburren was a shock to everyone, especially since Tom was a confirmed bachelor.”

“Nonsense,” said Susan. “I don't remember anyone saying anything like that.”

Kate hurried to explain herself. “It's just that we thought Tom had sworn off women after Claire.”

Susan looked astonished. “Why Kate Whelan. Who would think such a thing?”

“Maggie, for one,” said Kate, now on the defensive.

Susan chuckled. “Maggie and Claire were close friends. I imagine it's difficult for her to accept that Tom may have moved on and left Claire behind.”

“Tom said it, too.”

A cold, sharp pain settled in Kellie's stomach.

Susan looked at Kate for a long moment before she turned to Kellie. “I imagine Tom has changed his mind since then. What do you think, Kellie, love?”

Kellie wet her lips. “I really can't speak for Tom.”

“Of course you can. You're quite close. Besides,” Susan reached over and squeezed Kellie's hand, “the man's in love. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

Kate looked at her watch. “Well, now that we have that settled, it's time for me to be going. It's been lovely, Kellie. We'll do it again. Goodbye, Susan.” She left without looking back.

“My goodness,” said Susan when they were alone. “That was a surprise.”

Kellie nodded.

Susan drank her tea. “It's for the best. Now she's properly rousted. I was wondering how to do it gently, but perhaps she needed a more direct approach.”

Kellie laughed. “Why doesn't that make me feel better?”

Susan's keen eyes pinned her. “You've no need to be jealous, lass. If he wanted her, it would have happened long ago.”