“C’mon guv’nor. It was an oversight. I didn’t bloody remember. I promise not to move again without telling you. I won’t leave Belfast. You know I didn’t kill no one.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll forget about VOP and let your sorry ass go, but I want to know if this photo buff ever comes back.”
“I promise, I’ll call you. Can I take his money first?”
McLaughlin uncuffed him and handed him a card. “You can go, Tommy, but if you see this man again, you call me immediately. Catch his license plate. And keep me advised of your address. You change your address again and don’t tell me within the hour, you’ll be back here for good.”
“Right you are.” Walker quickly headed for the exit in case McLaughlin changed his mind. When he had gone, McLaughlin said, “I’ve got a tail on him. If he goes back to the guy who paid him, we’ll pick them both up.”
THIRTY
WHEN I RETURNED TO the house, it was evening. I nodded to the patrolman sitting comfortably on a rocker on the front porch of what I had come to call “Fortress Deirdre.” Old Wicklow was sleeping next to the rocker. He greeted me with a sweep of his tail. In the living room my aunt was sitting in the middle of the floor, cross-legged on a quilt with Ben. Several toys were strewn about and Ben was loving every minute of it. When she saw me she tilted her head toward the kitchen.
Catherine was standing at the sink drying dishes. She looked cute in her striped apron. I hugged her from behind and kissed her on the neck. “I know, it’s way past his bedtime,” she said with a smile, “but you saw the two of them. How could I break it up?” She took a plate out of the warmer and set it on the table. She was still walking gingerly, favoring her left leg, and every time I saw her wince, my anger rose and my muscles tensed.
“We saved some dinner for you,” she said. “It’s really good. Deirdre can sure teach me a thing or two.” She poured two glasses of white wine and sat next to me. “Except for Ben’s nap, Great-Aunt Deirdre has been with him every minute since we arrived. I wonder if we can take her back to Chicago with us.”
“She might not mind that at all. What have you two been up to this afternoon?”
“It’s been a very interesting day. I’ve been treated to an illustrated odyssey through the Taggart family historical museum.”
“What does that mean?”
“Deirdre and I pored through her photo albums. It was a learning experience.”
“Uh-oh.”
Catherine smiled. “Nope, it’s all good.”
“Phew.”
Then she stared at me with that cat-that-ate-the-canary look of hers. “There were more than a few pictures of you and a certain young lady named Annie. So, how come you never told me about her?”
Oh brother, I thought. I knew it was a mistake to leave those two alone. “She’s an old girlfriend, Cat. Do you tell me all about all your old boyfriends? I was through with that relationship five years before we got together. I believe you were married to Mr. Stock Exchange at the same time I was dating Annie.”
“There’s no reason to get defensive, but she wasn’t just an old girlfriend. You were engaged to her.”
“Well, it isn’t the kind of thing that makes for pleasant dinner conversation for you and me. Certainly not for me. Just what did my lovely aunt Deirdre tell you?”
“Never mind, then.”
“Oh no you don’t. You opened the door. What is it you lawyers say, ‘The hand once set to the task, may not withdraw it with impunity’? What did she tell you? I might have to correct some glaring inaccuracies. What did she say about me and Annie?”
“She said that the two of you dated for a year, that it was serious and that you were planning to get married. You told Uncle Fergus that you were going to marry her. You even bought her a ring. Deirdre saw the ring. Everyone thought you were going to get married and it was a shock when you two broke up.”
“Thanks, Deirdre.”
Catherine took a sip of her wine and smiled. “Liam, neither one of us were kids when we got together. I didn’t think you had been celibate. In fact, you were dating Donna Talcott at the time. I’m not disturbed by anything Deirdre told me or that you loved somebody before me. We have each other now. I’m not worried.”
“I assume you asked Deirdre why we broke up?”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe. Come on, you can’t blame me for being curious. But Deirdre wouldn’t tell me. She just said you broke up with Annie at the same time you and your uncles had a falling-out. I’m sure she knows more, but I felt I was being nosey enough. I didn’t push her.”
I wasn’t sure how much more my aunt knew. I’d never discussed it with her. But Annie might have. Deirdre told me she’s stayed close to Annie over the years, so I imagine my aunt knows it all. I respect her for not telling Catherine. If anybody is going to reveal the intimacies of my life to my wife, it should be me. “So because you’re curious, you think I should tell you about it.”
“Not necessarily. Not unless you want to.”
“Well, I think you do, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
Catherine’s expressions are so revealing. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side, which I knew was prefatory to confronting me with a prior inconsistent statement. That’s one of the inconvenient aspects of being married to a trial attorney. They remember everything you say. “Well, Liam … just a few weeks ago, when you told me about Deirdre’s Sunday dinners and the ‘darling girls’ that Aunt Nora introduced you to, I believe you said ‘nothing ever came of the darling girls.’ So, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? When Deirdre told me that Aunt Nora fixed you up with Annie and you planned to marry her, it came as a surprise. Do you blame me for wondering why you didn’t marry her?”
Catherine and I prided ourselves in having an honest relationship, so I had to clear the air. “You’re right, I wasn’t truthful. I apologize. It’s not that I wanted to keep secrets, it’s really about my aversion to discussing my relationship with Annie. That happened to be a very unpleasant time in my life that I don’t like to think about, let alone discuss with anyone. When I left Ireland, I closed the door and locked those memories away, just like my mother did.”
“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to open Pandora’s box. It was just idle curiosity, really. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Well, it does matter or you wouldn’t have brought it up. And I shouldn’t have lied to you. Annie and I didn’t get married because she broke it off. I wanted to marry her, but at the last minute, she didn’t want to go through with it. It wasn’t due to my uncles and it wasn’t due to my service with the CIA. And it wasn’t because I got cold feet. She ended it. That’s the truth.
“Annie and I dated for a year and Aunt Deirdre was right, it was serious, almost from the beginning. Then 1999 came along. I was living in Northern Ireland and working for the Agency. Annie was teaching. At the time there was no reason for either of us to think that anything would change. I thought I’d be here for years. Then the Good Friday Peace Agreement brought an end to the sectarian warfare. At least on paper. With the Troubles over, the CIA began winding down its operations. There were just a few of us left by the summer of ’99, but there were no plans to close the station. I had no reason to believe that I would be reassigned. Annie and I started to talk about getting married and having a family. We knew there would be problems with Annie’s father but we figured we could work them out when the time came.
“Annie’s father was a prominent member of his community, a selfless man who always devoted himself to helping others. He worked for social services and administered generously, no matter who the recipient was: Catholic, Protestant, Jewish or no faith at all. He was all-embracing. But, where his daughter was concerned, it was a different story.
“Jacob was a deeply religious man. He was second generation in Northern Ireland; his Jewish grandparents had emigrated from Germany with traditions they brought over from their Orthodox communities. Jacob and h
is Belfast Jewish community were very observant, steeped in the old ways. They chose to live by conventions, rules and customs. For example, the men all dressed alike—black coats, white shirts, black shoes. They did so to identify themselves as members of their community. No one would want to wear a blue shirt or a striped shirt. After all, if you were truly devoted to your community, why would you want to dress differently? It was all about a sense of belonging.
“With Annie, he set stern rules. He was rigid. Intolerant. In their community, a daughter obeyed her father without question. And when it came to marriage, she did not marry outside the community. No exceptions.”
“Annie must have realized that before she got involved with you.”
“When she and I started dating, she was hesitant with me and I didn’t know why. I thought she was being cautious because she had been hurt by a previous relationship. But really, she was stepping outside of her father’s boundaries, she knew it and she was nervous. Truth be told, Annie was always a bit rebellious.”
“How old was she at the time?” Catherine said. “I’m getting the impression she must have been very young.”
“What’s very young? We were both in our midtwenties.”
“That sounds young to me now, Liam.”
“You’re right. Young and impulsive and foolish. I offered to meet with her father, but Annie said no. She told me that her father would not approve of her dating a Catholic man. She was keeping our relationship from him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Catholics; it was all about the cohesion of his community.
“He would also lecture her about assimilation. According to Annie’s father, outside of the observant Orthodox communities, in the more liberal Jewish communities, three out of four Jewish children were entering into interfaith marriages, and the resulting union often became secular. Jacob couldn’t conceive of his daughter not carrying on the customs of his ancestors, or that his grandchildren might grow up in a secular home. ‘Intermarriage weakens our community,’ he would tell her. ‘Assimilated Jews move away, they don’t observe our laws and customs, they don’t teach the faith to their children. We must not dilute our community by interfaith marriage.’”
“Yet, she continued to date you,” Catherine said. “She disobeyed her father.”
“As I said, she was rebellious. We punted the problem downfield. We knew there would come a time. We would address it then. Her father didn’t know about us, so he didn’t forbid her from seeing me, and so she wasn’t really disobeying, but … of course she was.
“Jacob was getting up in years, he was not particularly healthy, and in the spring of 1999 he had a crippling heart attack that left him homebound and needing a lot of help. Annie took a leave of absence for a while and devoted her days to assisting him. When the leave ended, she hired a nurse, but Annie continued to spend most of her nonworking hours with him. We’d get together late at night. She’d ask me to be patient and understanding, and somehow she’d work it out. Annie’s mother had died when she was young and Jacob devoted his life to raising Annie, so Annie felt that it was her duty to reciprocate.
“Still, we’d talk about our life together. We discussed braiding our two religions many times and we were comfortable we could work it out. We would each be respectful of our personal convictions. Knowing that a secular home could forever separate Jacob from our family, I agreed to raise our children Jewish and I was comfortable with that. It wasn’t so great a sacrifice for me. I didn’t have any community pressures and I wasn’t nearly as devout as Annie. And to tell you the truth, as far as I’m concerned, Jews and Catholics have a lot in common. We’re both built on the same foundation.
“While all this was going on, everything started to unravel for me. That was the time my uncles discovered I had been lying to them and my cover was blown. The Agency concluded I was of no further use in Northern Ireland and they decided to repost me back to Washington. My visa was up. I had been reassigned. I couldn’t continue to live in Northern Ireland.
“That brought the whole thing to a head. I bought a ring and asked Annie to marry me and live with me in Washington. I never expected her to say no, or even to say she had to think about it. It was a given. We were devoted to each other. And she said yes. We would leave for Washington in a few weeks and plan a wedding.
“There were matters that needed attention before we could go. First, there was Jacob’s continuing nursing care. Annie had to be sure he would be well cared for. Then there was this Catholic/Jewish thing. We knew we’d get a big pushback from Jacob, but Annie said she just needed a little time. She was confident. It would all work out. I’m afraid we were naïve.
“A few days later, after her father had gone to sleep, she met me at my apartment. She said she had arranged for Jacob’s nursing care. All she needed to do was work out the religious issue. She had tried to broach the subject, she told her father she was dating a man outside their community.”
Catherine caught the ambiguity. “A Catholic man?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. Even so, Jacob had waved her off. He would hear none of it. Now, in my apartment, she told me she was going to be firm. Her father would have to understand. After all, he loved her and would want what’s best for her. Above all, he would want her to be happy. That night we broke out a bottle of Champagne, called the airlines and bought our plane tickets. Oh, how clueless we were.
“As the date approached, both of us were busy making final arrangements. We weren’t able to see each other very much, but we’d talk on the phone several times a day. I started to hear something in her voice, something that wasn’t right. I kept asking her what’s wrong and she’d say nothing. I asked her how the talks with her father were going and she’d change the subject. I knew she was having a rough time. I suppose I should have seen the writing on the wall.
“Finally, it was the day of our departure. Everything was in order. All my belongings were boxed, packed and ready for shipping. Annie showed up at the apartment. She didn’t have a suitcase or any of her things. She just stood in the doorway crying. She wouldn’t even come into the room. ‘I can’t leave,’ she said. ‘He won’t be able to deal with it.’
“‘It’s not his life,’ I said.
“‘I don’t expect you to understand this,’ she said, ‘but my father devoted his life to me. I owe him so much. Now he’s sick and he’s dying. He’s lying there in his bed and he needs me. If the situation were reversed, he’d never run out on me. How can I do that to him? I know you’re upset because you think you betrayed your uncles. Imagine what I’m going through. I am not able to turn my back on my father. I just can’t do it. I have to stay.’
“I knew that if she ran out on her father, she’d never forgive herself. She was that kind of person. ‘I do understand,’ I said. ‘And I respect you for what you’re doing. I have to leave, I have no choice, but I’ll get a place for us in D.C. and I’ll wait for you. You’ll come to me when he no longer needs you.’
“She shook her head. Now the tears were really flowing. ‘No, Liam, I can’t. I had to tell him the truth about us. I couldn’t leave Northern Ireland without telling him everything. Liam, it hurt him so badly. He cried, he begged me. Liam, a man like my father, he could never understand. And now he’s so sick and he knows he’s dying.’ She hung her head and spoke in a whisper. ‘He said it was a dying father’s last request. He held my hands and he begged me. You say you have no choice; I had no choice either. I made a vow. I gave him my word that I wouldn’t marry you. I’m so sorry.’
“I was floored. How could she do that? She couldn’t be serious. I pleaded with her to reconsider. ‘To hell with these old world customs. We’re not living in a shtetl. This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. It’s 1999 and it’s our lives. He knows he’s dying, we all know he’s dying. Stay with him, and when he passes, you’ll be released from your vow. Then you’ll come to me.’
“‘No,’ she said, ‘I gave him my word. I promised. It wasn’t a promise that lasted only as long a
s he was alive. It was a solemn vow that I would not marry a man outside our community. I gave my word to my dying father. I cannot break my vow.’ Then she held out her hand, gave me back my ring, turned, and walked out of my life.”
Just then we heard Ben fussing from the living room. Catherine stood. She had tears in her eyes. “I have to get the baby. I’ll be right back.”
I didn’t think it was necessary to tell Catherine the rest—how devastated I was and what a mess it made of my life. At first, I was sure Annie would change her mind. A few hours would pass, the pressure of the moment would fade and she’d come to her senses. She’d get her priorities right. I couldn’t accept such a sudden finale and I didn’t see how she could either. I put the ring in my pocket and left for the airport fully expecting her to show up, running down the concourse at the last moment, like in a movie. I stood there like a fool, watching and waiting at the gate. Finally, the gate agent told me I’d have to board if I was going to Washington; they were shutting the doors.
For weeks afterward, I fully expected to get a phone call. She’d apologize. She’d beg me to forgive her. Maybe she’d just show up at my apartment door. But I never heard another word. She didn’t write and neither did I. I returned to a desk job at the CIA, but my heart wasn’t in it. I’d go about my day-to-day activities and carry on as best I could, but I avoided the social scene entirely. Big, tough Liam on the outside; a dishrag on the inside. I came to believe that my entire frame of reference, everything I took for granted, was illusory. As time passed, my sadness turned into anger. I hated Annie for walking out on our plans. I hated her for being so weak. I hated her for being manipulated. I hated Jacob for his selfishness. I was getting more bitter by the day and I didn’t like myself. I needed to change my life.
I resigned from the Agency and returned to Chicago where I got a PI license and opened a small investigation office. I was determined to make a clean break and put all Northern Ireland memories into a locked chamber never to be opened again. And I did for all these years. Until my uncle died.
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