The Delaney Woman (6 page)

Lexi lifted her head and dropped it again. She was going nowhere. A knot formed in Tom's chest. Heather's experience with mothers was limited to her grandmother and the mothers of her friends. A young, attractive woman who promised dessert and told stories had suddenly dropped out of the sky into her lap. He didn't want his child to be hurt.

He made a decision. Gently, he shook Kellie awake. She blinked and would have spoken but he held his finger against his lips, motioning her to stand up. When she did, he tucked the blankets around his daughter.

“We'll have to postpone our walk,” he said after he'd closed the door to Heather's room.

Kellie yawned. “I'm too tired anyway.” She moved toward the stairs. “Good night Tom,” she said without turning around.

He was anxious and edgy, not in the mood for a run or a pint Slowly, he walked into his study and opened his pipe case. She said she liked them. Still, he closed the door. Tucking the bag under his arm, he began to squeeze. The melody, slow and smooth, filled the room.

M
orning light, milky and pale, filtered through the kitchen window. Kellie sighed. Two weeks since she'd come and both of them gray. But then Ireland was always gray, not like England where even in winter the sun had a chance of piercing the cloud cover.

She cracked another egg into the bowl, added milk and whipped the mixture together. Butter sizzled in the frying pan. She poured in the eggs, set out bread to toast and lifted the streaky bacon from the grill. Coffee perked on the stove. Napkins folded like birds of paradise sat on top of the plates. Silverware gleamed. Lexi lay under the table, her eyes at half- mast.

A bubble of pleasure welled up in Kellie's chest. She stopped, motionless, and concentrated on holding it in, muscles tensing, eyes narrowing, keeping the feeling close for as long as it would stay. It happened seldom enough, this sense of pleasure, this cocoon of quiet joy, welling from the mundane routine of performing simple tasks. But at least it came. Not so long ago, Kellie believed she would never feel anything but pain again.

The toaster popped. Kellie pulled out the bread slices, golden and hot, slid them into the rack and poured the coffee. She didn't look up when Tom walked into the kitchen.

“What is it this morning?” he asked.

“Scrambled eggs with parsley and tomatoes.”

He was silent and still for a long moment.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Where did you learn to create culinary masterpieces for every meal?”

Kellie shook her head. “They're hardly that.”

“Do you know you have the most subtle way of evading a direct question, which makes no sense because most of the time you're not subtle at all.”

“I wouldn't call it evading.”

“What would you call it?”

She leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee, welcoming the diverting burn of the hot liquid down her throat. “I would call it a sense of reserve,” she said quietly, “a sense of personal space.”

Tom hooked his leg over the chair and sat backwards facing her. “I might believe that if you weren't so inquisitive yourself. You want to know everything about me, but you won't disclose anything about yourself.”

Kellie's cheeks burned. “Are you always so blunt?”

“No, you've the patent on bluntness. I'm rarely so, but then I'm not always up against such an immovable force.”

“Why do you want to know about me?”

“You're living in my home. It's common courtesy to reveal something of your background. It makes one feel insecure to have a mystery woman in his midst. I don't know if I'm allowing an escaped felon access to my daughter.”

She gave him the point. “Fair enough,” she said. “What do you want do know?”

“For a start, how did you come to leave Belfast for Oxford? Why are you here in Banburren?”

“I earned my degree from Queen's and left for an employment opportunity in Oxford. It isn't unusual to move to England from Belfast.”

“For a Catholic it is.”

“I'm here because it's restful,” she continued as if he hadn't interrupted her. “Are you satisfied?”

“I should be.”

“But you're not”

“No. What do you do all day?” He hurried to finish. “I'm just curious, that's all. What I mean is, why would a woman like you, an educated woman, be content doing a maid's work in a small town? What keeps your mind busy?”

Kellie's cheeks flamed. “What kind of question is that? What do you think I do? I cook and shop and wash and clean. In case you haven't noticed, I've picked up just about everything there is to do which wasn't what I'd planned and it's worth a great deal more than the complimentary meals I'm receiving. Perhaps we need to renegotiate the terms of my employment because I think I'm doing too much to be paying for my room.” Her hand were on her hips. “You've been very preoccupied, hardly coming out of that shed outside to breathe. Quite frankly I don't know what you did without me. I've gone to the library on occasion and I take a walk or two every day with your dog, but other than that I've my hands full. My mind and how I keep it busy isn't any of your business.”

Tom stood motionless, stunned and properly redressed. She was right. The lion's share of work had fallen on her. She was so efficient, he'd relaxed, allowing her to pick up more and more of his responsibilities, even the phone calls and bookings. He'd stepped over the line and he knew it. Embarrassed, he opened his mouth to apologize, but even that was denied him.

Heather stood in the doorway. “I'm here,” she announced.

Kellie sighed with relief. “Good morning, darling. Are you hungry?”

The little girl nodded, crossed the room and pulled out a chair. “I like your food. It's better than Da's.”

“Traitor,” muttered Tom.

Kellie laughed, her anger dissipated. She was a nurturer at heart and it was lovely being needed. She spooned eggs onto Heather's plate before reaching for Tom's.

Heather picked up her fork and looked at her father. He appeared deep in thought, staring at his plate.

“Kellie says breakfast is the most important meal,” she announced.

“Perhaps she's right,” replied Tom.

“Well?”

“Well What?”

“Why aren't you eating?”

Tom sighed. “I'm eating, I'm eating.” He scooped a healthy portion of eggs into his mouth. “Are you happy now?”

She smiled sunnily. “Yes.”

Kellie sipped her juice. Between bites of bacon she spoke to Heather. “I'm going into town today to look at the shops. I've seen nothing at all except the Superquin, the butcher's and the bakery. Have you any other suggestions for me?”

Heather's forehead wrinkled and she looked at her father. “Da? Where should Kellie go?”

Tom considered the matter. “We can walk Heather to school together and you can look around a bit. There isn't much to see in Banburren beyond the harbor and the water. My family is having a dinner tonight. You're invited if you care to come. My mother particularly asked me to invite you.”

It was a golden opportunity. It was also a dreadful violation of the heart of a family. Deception was difficult for her. She would not be comfortable conversing and sharing a meal with these people. Still, her motive for coming to Banburren hadn't changed. Perhaps she would learn something. So far, her quest had been relatively fruitless. She'd gone into his computer files, an easy enough task. He didn't even have his password secured. Not that she'd had long segments of time to go back into personal correspondence in his e-mail files, but she wasn't looking for anything that far back. It was frustrating. Her lack of progress after two weeks, and Tom Whelan, the man, hadn't helped matters. He was so pleasant, so accommodating and open. It was very hard to keep her reserve. Kellie liked him. She liked him very much.

* * *

It was odd at first, walking beside Tom with Heather between them, down narrow streets in a small town where everyone knew each other. People were too polite to stare or comment, but she felt their eyes on her back, speculative, wondering. Kellie felt as if she were back in the Falls only this time she was a stranger.

It was important that she do this, Kellie told herself. It was all for Connor and Danny and, she'd come to realize, herself.

Tom interrupted her thoughts. “You might take a look at Geary's Hardware. It's our claim to fame, a first-rate store with everything one could possibly need for home improvement.”

“Your rooms could use some bookshelves,” replied Kellie, “nothing complicated.”

“Why do I need shelves?”

“People like a homey room and shelves filled with books.”

He looked thoughtful. “I'd never thought of it.”

“Think of it now. Don't you like books?”

“I do.”

“Your guests will, too. Small things, like books and a basket of treats with some biscuits and bottled water, a teapot, things like that make a room memorable.”

“You may be right.” He waved his arm. “What do you think?”

“Of what?”

“The town.”

Kellie glanced briefly around her. Curbs on one side of the road were painted green, white and orange, Catholic colors. The Irish tricolor hung from upstairs windows. Tea shops were filled with men smoking down their breakfasts and reading the daily news. Mothers with prams walked uniformed children to school. There were more pubs than any other business establishment and most had customers at eight-thirty in the morning.

“It reminds me of home.”

Heather tugged on her father's arm. “Where are we going? This is the turn.”

Tom stopped and looked at the shops on the familiar corner. “I'm in a daze,” he said to his daughter. “Lead the way.”

Heather skipped ahead waving her lunch box and her pack. Knobby knees, scabbed from a tumble, peeped from beneath her plaid skirt. The red jacket matched her hair ribbon and the glow in her cheeks.

Kellie's breath caught. “She's a beautiful child.”

“Aye.” Tom's words formed a cloud in the cold air. “I'll give you no argument with that one.” He glanced at the woman beside him. “She looks like her mother.”

“She's her own person, unspoiled and enthusiastic and incredibly bright. You've done a wonderful job with her.”

“Thank you.”

“We're very formal with each other, aren't we?” she said after a minute.

“Did you expect something else?”

“Not really.” Her hands curled in her pockets. Somehow, she had to break through. “It was just an observation.”

Heather was nearly a block ahead of them now.

“Tell me what it was like growing up in Belfast,” he said.

It was the question she knew would come, the one everyone asked. “Very much like growing up anywhere else, I suspect. If a child isn't aware of anything different, it isn't strange. I had parents and brothers and sisters. We had our difficulties like anyone else. I left when I earned my degree.” She looked at him. “What about you? How did you happen to stay in Banburren all of your life?”

“I didn't.” His hands were in his pockets, his head bowed against the wind. “There was a time when I fancied myself the martyred revolutionary. That mistake earned me a stint in Long Kesh.”

He was a felon, an ex-convict
. Her stomach burned and she bit her tongue to hold back the obvious question. “How dreadful,” she managed to say in a small, tight voice.

“It wasn't as bad as you might think. I was with men I knew, all political prisoners, all of us in for the same reason. We were treated fairly.”

She hadn't thought he would tell her such a thing, so openly, without embarrassment. Again her doubts assailed her. Tom Whelan didn't appear to be the kind of man who harbored dark secrets. But he'd spent time in prison.

“Tell me about your loss.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You told me you'd suffered a loss. Tell me about it.”

Kellie tucked her hair behind her ears. Her hands hurt from the cold and the dull sick ache she dreaded rose in her stomach. She couldn't speak of Connor and Danny, not now, not yet. “I'd rather not. It's difficult for me.”

He didn't press her.

Ahead of them, Heather turned into a massive gated entrance. Kellie raised her eyebrows. “You must be doing well for yourself.”

Tom shrugged. “It's the only Catholic school and it's not so much more than the others that it makes a difference.”

“What about the National School? I imagine most of Banburren attends that one.”

He nodded. “I want more for Heather. She's very bright. Besides, there's none of the Catholic, Protestant garbage here. The focus is on learning, not hatred or politics.”

They reached the gate where Heather waited. Kellie reached out to hug the little girl and kiss her cheek. “Have a grand day, love,” she said.

Heather nodded, kissed her father and ran up the stairs, through the double oak doors and into the brick building.

“Well,” Kellie said bracingly, “that's that.” She looked at Tom. “Now, it's just the two of us.”

He ignored her comment and pointed to a long, low building farther down the street. “Geary's Hardware is new. You'll find everything there.” They faced each other. The street, wet and gray from recent rain, was empty, the mist shrouding them in silence. “Perhaps we could finish that conversation we started at breakfast.”

She looked at him,
really looked at him
, black hair falling over his forehead, blue eyes narrowed, serious, intense, a man too weathered by life and tragedy to be truly handsome, but still quite attractive in his own way, a man whose angles and planes bespoke suffering and character. Who was the real Tom Whelan? A man who shared responsibility for two murders, an ex-felon, or a reformed man, sensitive enough to write poetry, play music and raise a small child?

Kellie swallowed. “Perhaps,” she said softly.

The lines around his mouth deepened into a genuine smile.

With that, he turned and strode purposefully down the street, away from her. He didn't look back.

She watched him until he disappeared around the corner. There was more to Tom Whelan than met the eye. Something troubled him. He wasn't comfortable with women. She could feel his contempt mitigated slightly by a resistant curiosity. He wanted to trust her and yet trust didn't come easily to him. She didn't blame him. He was intelligent and there were many things she had left unexplained. Kellie understood his coldness tempered by brief bouts of compassionate remorse. He was like the agnostic who mumbles The Lord's Prayer, just in case God might really exist.

She felt strangely bereft standing there in the chill morning air. It was early by Irish standards. Nothing would be open except for small cafés and pubs. Indecision was an unaffordable weakness. She would find a café and nurse a pot of tea until the hardware opened.