Men of Intrgue A Trilogy

by Doreen Owens Malek

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Karen said, not looking at her.

  “Sure you do, darlin’, sure you do. And are you going to sit home and say your prayers while he takes off to fight his wars?”

  Karen set her cup down with a sharp click. “I think I’d better be going. I have a cabbie waiting for me downstairs.”

  She got up, and Mary followed her to the door. “There’s his duds. Do you want me to help you get them down?” she said, pointing to two duffel bags in a corner of the room.

  “No, I can manage.”

  “I can call Kevin, the bartender,” Mary volunteered.

  “It’s all right.” Karen picked up the bags and slung them over her shoulder, eager to be gone.

  “You mind what I said, now,” Mary advised as Karen stepped through the door.

  “Thank you for the tea,” Karen said.

  “Tell Steve I hope he’s fit again soon and to stop in anytime.”

  “I will,” Karen murmured. She walked down the dark hall as Mary shut the door behind her and then staggered down the steps with her burdens.

  The bartender came running when he saw her carrying the bags.

  “I’ll take those for you, miss,” he said. “Have you a car outside?”

  “There’s a cab at the door,” she said.

  He assisted her outside and then waved her off as the cabbie headed back downtown on her instructions.

  “You were inside a good bit of time, miss,” the driver observed. “Did you get what you came for?”

  “Yes, I did,” Karen replied thoughtfully.

  “I’m glad the trip wasn’t wasted,” he said.

  “So am I.” Karen sat back against the seat and watched the waterfront go by, thinking that it had been a very profitable morning.

  * * * *

  Karen spent the rest of the day straightening out Colter’s affairs and arranging for his discharge the next morning. She rented a car and arrived in his room that evening dangling the keys in front of him.

  “What are those?” he asked warily, watching the movement of her hand.

  “Exactly what they look like. Car keys.”

  “You’re driving?”

  “Well, let’s put it this way. You’re not.”

  “How did you make out with Mary?”

  “We had a very interesting visit. I think she has a crush on you.”

  “Give me a break.”

  “I got your stuff and went to the bank.”

  “Did you take back the money you spent on me?” he demanded.

  “Yes, yes. You can relax. You don’t owe me a farthing.”

  Miss Mandeville arrived and tucked Colter’s sheet in around his middle. She patted his abdomen with satisfaction and left without saying a word.

  “I can’t wait to get out of that woman’s clutches,” Colter said, closing his eyes.

  Karen smiled to herself. “You’ll probably miss her.”

  “I doubt that very seriously,” he replied, without opening his eyes.

  “You look tired,” Karen observed, going to sit on the side of his bed.

  “I’m all right,” he said, his lashes lifting.

  “Did I wear you out earlier?” Karen asked sheepishly.

  He grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Mary Lafferty said she used to be worried that you were gay.”

  He looked so thunderstruck that she laughed.

  “Why in hell would she think that?” he asked incredulously.

  “Something about your not responding to a sweet invitation from her,” Karen said innocently.

  He shook his head. “That kid thinks she’s irresistible.”

  “She is very pretty.”

  “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “I tried to get her a job once but I think she’s just used to that life now.”

  “It’s a shame. She’s so young.”

  “So I guess she convinced you that we were just pals, huh?” he asked, shooting her a sidelong glance.

  “Yup. Just pals. Just like you and me.”

  He smiled in exasperation, picking up her hand and toying with her fingers. “You really are a pain in the neck, you know that?”

  “I know it.”

  “But I want you to understand that I do appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

  “I’ll try to remember that the next time you’re yelling at me.”

  “How do you know there will be a next time?”

  “With you there’s always a next time.”

  “Then why do you stick around?” he asked. He tried to sustain the light bantering tone of their previous exchange, but a listening look in his eyes told her his mood had altered.

  “Because I think, deep down, you really want me to,” she answered honestly.

  He looked up at her for a long moment and then said, “Clever girl.” He glanced at the clock. “How much time have we got before Miss Manhandler throws you out?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  “Then come here,” he said, reaching out to pull her down to his shoulder. Karen half lay against him, snuggling into his good side, and curled her free arm across his chest.

  “I’m not hurting you, am I?” she asked.

  He made a contented sound to indicate that she wasn’t.

  “Where are we going tomorrow?” he asked drowsily.

  “I told you. Kinsale, in the Republic.”

  “I’ve never been to the Republic.”

  “No?”

  “All the action takes place up here.”

  “The town is apparently very pretty, a little boating resort on the water.”

  He snorted. “According to who—Mandeville? I wouldn’t trust anything she says. I think she’s a robot in a dress.”

  “Everybody says Kinsale is nice, even the man who rented me the car today.”

  He grunted. “The place will be full of crazy Irishmen.”

  “You’re talking to one of them right now, bud. Besides, the cottage is supposed to be secluded so we don’t have to see anybody if we don’t want to. The idea is for you to rest.”

  He didn’t answer, and she thought from the even quality of his breathing that he was asleep. But when she moved to get up his grip tightened.

  “Don’t go,” he said huskily.

  “Miss Mandeville will be in here in a minute.”

  “The hell with her,” he replied. “Stay with me.”

  Karen couldn’t resist such an invitation. As she relaxed against him she felt his lips moving in her hair, and tears sprang to her eyes. He did care about her; she could feel it. Why did he fight it so stubbornly?

  “Karen?”

  “Mmm?” she responded, clearing her throat.

  “What about your job?”

  “I don’t have a job.”

  “That’s what I mean. Don’t you have to look for one?”

  “It can wait until you’re well.”

  She could tell he didn’t like the sound of that. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” he said.

  “Will you stop worrying about it and go to sleep?” Karen said.

  He did. By the time the nurse came in to say that visiting hours were over he was unaware of her entrance.

  “Look at that, now,” Miss Mandeville said as Karen stood and straightened her clothes. “Just like a little boy.”

  Karen glanced back at Colter and saw that the other woman was right. He was sleeping with his head turned to one side, his lips parted, the arm that had encircled Karen still curved in a protective circle.

  “You’d never believe he was such a hell raiser,” the nurse added.

  “Are you sure he’s well enough to be discharged?” Karen asked anxiously.

  Miss Mandeville shrugged. “There’s little more we can do for him. Mostly what he needs is to take it easy, and I’ve an idea he’ll listen better to you than he will to me.”

  “What about his medication?” Karen said.

  “I’ll have it all ready for you in the mor
ning,” the nurse said soothingly. “Doctor will write a prescription and you can have it renewed when the bottle runs out. It’s just an antibiotic you can get anywhere.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t fret yourself,” Miss Mandeville said, patting her arm. “He’ll be fine.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Well he has you to take care of him, doesn’t he?” the nurse said confidently. “Now be off with you, get some sleep, and tomorrow he’s all yours.”

  If only that were true, Karen thought. But she left nonetheless and went back to her rented room to wait for morning.

  * * * *

  Colter’s discharge went more smoothly than Karen had anticipated. As good as her word, Miss Mandeville had done all the paperwork and when Karen showed up at nine o’clock the patient was all set to leave.

  Colter was sitting in the chair in his room, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt from one of the bags Karen had delivered. He was wearing sunglasses and an impatient expression.

  “Let’s blow this morgue,” he said when he saw Karen.

  “Not so fast. The nurse is getting your wheelchair.”

  “Wheelchair?” he said.

  “Hospital policy.”

  “Forget it.”

  The nurse chose this inopportune moment to push the offending item through the door.

  “I’m not leaving in that thing,” Colter said firmly.

  “Then you’re not leaving at all,” Karen replied. “Now will you stop behaving like a spoiled child and sit in it?”

  He complied, grumbling. He didn’t say a word until they had descended in the elevator and the nurse had waved goodbye on the front steps, taking the wheelchair back inside with her.

  “I hope I never have to see that place again,” he muttered, leaning against the side of the rented Renault as Karen fished in her purse for the keys.

  “I hope so too, although those people in there undoubtedly saved your life,” Karen said.

  “Let them save somebody else’s.”

  Karen got in the little car and started the motor as Colter climbed in beside her. He folded his long legs under the dash and put his head back against the rest.

  “I have the seat pushed back as far as it will go,” Karen said to him. “I know it’s a little tight but they don’t rent limos in Ireland.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m used to European cars. Anything is better than that hospital bed. Let’s go.”

  “At least the sun came out in honor of your discharge,” Karen said cheerfully.

  “I almost forgot it was there.”

  “It’s a good omen.”

  He turned his head to look at her and smiled slightly. “What an optimist.”

  “The map is in the glove compartment. The man at the rental place said we’d cross into the south at a town called Crossmaglen. Do you see it there?”

  He looked for a moment and then said, “Yup.”

  “Good. Keep the passports right there. They’ll be checked at the border. Then we just drive south until we hit Kinsale, which should be late tonight.”

  “Do you have directions to this cottage?” he asked.

  “In my purse. There’s supposed to be a crossroads in town, and one of the streets leads to the Mandeville place.”

  “Just as long as Miss Mandeville isn’t there,” he said darkly.

  Karen chuckled, pulling out into a lane of traffic. “I don’t know why you don’t like her. She’s very fond of you.”

  “She’s very fond of pushing people around,” he answered.

  “Look at it from her point of view. I don’t think you were the most cooperative patient she ever had.”

  He grunted.

  “I heard the nurses were all going to wear black armbands after you left. They’re mourning the loss of the opportunity to view your manly form.”

  He glanced at her as if to gauge her expression. She had noticed before that he didn’t respond well to such teasing but she couldn’t resist.

  “I guess you think all this is pretty funny,” he said flatly.

  Karen downshifted and then looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Me winding up in a hospital, stuck with tubes and needles, at the mercy of that old battle-ax.”

  “Steven, everybody gets sick sometime. Not everybody gets shot, I’ll grant you, but illness is something we all have to tolerate.”

  “Not me. I hate it. I’ll bust loose and take my chances if I ever wind up in a place like that again.”

  She realized with a feeling of alarm that he was perfectly serious. “But surely you’ve been in a hospital before the other times you were hurt.”

  “Nope. Doctors just patched me up and let me go.”

  She absorbed that for a moment, then said softly, “You can’t bear the helplessness of it. Being hospitalized, I mean.”

  “Lying there, trussed up like turkey, can’t even smoke a damn cigarette, everybody issuing orders and moving you around like you were paralyzed or something,” he said bitterly. “Once I woke up I thought about taking off but...”

  “But?” Karen said.

  He shrugged one shoulder, not looking at her. “You were there and you wanted me to stay.”

  Karen didn’t comment, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. It was the closest he had come so far to an admission of feeling for her.

  “Why don’t you try to take a nap?” she finally asked him when she could talk.

  “I’ve been taking more naps than a toddler lately,” he observed grimly.

  “Yes, I know, but it’s a long drive and you should conserve your strength.”

  He muttered something under his breath and she didn’t ask him to repeat it.

  “Is there anybody you want to contact?” Karen asked as she headed for the highway leading out of Belfast.

  “Contact?”

  “You know, write or call. We can stop if you want to send a telegram or make a call.”

  “No.”

  “Isn’t there anyone who’ll be wondering where you are?” she asked.

  “Bill collectors,” he said curtly.

  Karen couldn’t believe that anyone was as alone as he seemed to be. “What about your place in Florida. Don’t you have a landlord or something?”

  “He doesn’t care if I’m on the moon as long as the rent is paid.”

  Karen dropped the subject. No amount of probing would bring forth information he didn’t want her to have.

  Colter fell asleep as she drove south, and she crossed over into the Republic at midmorning. She had worried that there might be some trouble at the border but the guard merely checked their passports, glanced at her sleeping companion, and waved them through saying, “Welcome to Eire.” Deciding that he had pegged them for a couple of tourists, Karen smiled brightly and gunned the motor. She’d had some vague idea that Colter might be recognized and was relieved to find he wasn’t as famous as she thought.

  Karen picked up the coastal road at Dundalk and had passed through Drogheda and the Republican capital of Dublin before Colter awoke as they approached the Wicklow mountains. It was afternoon and Karen was starving, but she hadn’t wanted to wake him by stopping the car.

  “Time is it?” he said, sitting up and looking around. She’d observed before that he came awake very quickly, alert at once.

  “About two.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Wicklow.”

  “That’s a big help.”

  “About halfway there.”

  “Oh, okay.” He stared out his window for a while before saying, “Pretty country.”

  “Yes. It’s just as green as it looks in all the travel posters.”

  “I always suspected they touched them up,” he said, grinning. He glanced over at her, “You must be tired. Why don’t you let me drive for a while?”

  “No, thanks. I want to survive this journey.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? I’m not going to pass out at the wheel or anythin
g.”

  “ How do you know?”

  “I feel fine.”

  “Which is the reason you just slept for five hours.”

  “You know something? You’re a...”

  “Pain in the neck. Yes, you’ve told me. Look, there’s a place to stop and get something to eat. I’m famished.” She pulled the little car into the gravel lot of a low barn sided structure advertising Lunch, Snacks, Sandwiches. Behind them Lugnaquillia, the chief peak in the coastal range, soared to a height of 3,000 feet, looming into a gray mist that still swirled about the summit even at midday. Ahead of them the road stretched away into the distance with rolling fields on either side.

  “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll bring you something? ” Karen suggested.

  “I’m coming in,” he said firmly, and she decided not to argue with him. The walk wasn’t far and he probably wanted to stretch his legs.

  As soon as they got inside, Karen wished that he had stayed behind. She had passed some road construction about five minutes earlier, and what looked like the entire work crew was in the pub having lunch. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the pungent smell of the strong beer being served up liberally from taps behind the bar. An overworked barmaid and an overworked waitress were trying to deal with the capacity crowd, and they were not happy to see two new arrivals come through the door.

  “What’ll it be?” the waitress barked to Colter as they pushed their way to the counter.

  “Do you have a menu?”

  She pointed to a blackboard, on which was scrawled a choice of soups and sandwiches.

  “Out of beef and barley,” she said. “You’ll have to make do with the leek.”

  “Leek?” Colter said, looking at Karen.

  “That’ll be fine,” Karen said hastily. “And we’ll take two egg-and-bacon sandwiches also.”

  The woman nodded.

  “Is there a place to sit?” Colter asked.

  “Just what you see,” the waitress said, gesturing expansively. “Will you have a drop, too?” she asked.

  “Ice water?” Karen said.

  The waitress lifted an eyebrow, but went to fill the order.

  “Nice quiet place you found, kid,” Colter said to Karen, raising his voice above the babble. “What the hell is leek?”

  “They’re related to onions. I’ve had the soup, it’s good.”

  He leaned against the wall and Karen wished she could find a place for him to sit. He would never admit to fatigue, but he had to be feeling the effects of his first day out of bed.