“Why not?”
“Because it could put Ian in danger.”
She makes a humph sound, like she’s still not convinced.
“Ian is a benefactor to the camp, Sid. He contributes a lot.”
She actually rolls her eyes now. “Ian McMahan? The man was poor as a church mouse when I knew him.”
“Like you said, it’s been a long time. People change.” Then I remember something. “You seemed impressed with the restaurant.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Ian planned to stick us with a big bill too.”
“Ian owns the restaurant.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s easy to prove. He gave me his business card, except Ryan has it right now.”
“Fine. Ian owns a restaurant. That still doesn’t change anything.”
“But he left the IRA. He helps out at Peace House.”
“But no one’s supposed to know.” She makes a face. “Yeah, right.”
“Murphy said it was for Ian’s protection, that if his old IRA connections found out, well, you know how they can be. Remember what the cab driver said about one Irishman on the fire and the other turning the spit?”
She just shakes her head and then leans it against the steering wheel again.
“He’s changed, Sid.”
She lets out a long, low groan now. Like an animal in pain.
“Can’t you just talk to him? Like a civilized adult? Bury the hatchet?”
Another groan.
“Sid, what can it hurt?”
Slowly she sits up, and when she turns to look at me, I can see tears glistening in her eyes. “What can it hurt?” she asks in a quiet but shaky voice. “Tell me, Maddie, have you ever had your heart broken?”
I consider this. “I felt pretty bad when Ross Hardwick didn’t ask me to the prom.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Sorry.”
“If you’d had your heart broken, Maddie, you wouldn’t ask, what can it hurt? You would know.”
I let out a long sigh now. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Me neither.”
“What do you think Danielle would tell you to do?”
“Run for my life.”
“Seriously, Sid. Danielle married Michael.”
“And look where that got her.”
“But she must’ve loved him enough to take a risk. Now no one is asking you to marry Ian, but it seems you could at least go in and have a civilized conversation with him.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” I’m feeling a tiny bit of hope now, like maybe she’s finally softening. “He’s a nice guy, Sid. And he’s interesting. And I bet you could use some of what he’s been through for your article. I mean, he’s totally reformed from being a member of the IRA to being a benefactor to Peace House. Kind of like the counterpart to the guy in your first interview, the bomber dude.”
“Sean Potter.”
“Yeah. Kind of a juxtaposition, if you will.”
This actually makes her chuckle. “When did you get so smart, Maddie?”
“Maybe I’m learning from you.”
“Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe I am overreacting. And I suppose a conversation with Ian McMahan might be interesting. For my article, I mean.”
I nod with enthusiasm. “Yes, for your article.”
She turns on the light in her car now, checks herself out in the rearview mirror, then touches up her lipstick, and looks at me. “Am I okay?”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Well, you don’t have to go overboard.”
“This is going to be good,” I assure her as we get out of the car. “You’re going to be glad you did this.”
“I doubt it. But maybe the food will be good.”
“And it’s on the house,” I tell her as we get to the entrance.
“Well, I’ll be sure to order the works then.”
I open the door for her, but she stalls, and I’m afraid she’s going to bolt again, maybe for good this time. “Come on,” I tell her. “You can do this.”
“What makes you think so?”
I pat her on the back. “Because you’re my role model, Aunt Sid, and I’d like to think that if you can do this, I can do all kinds of things.”
“You ever think of practicing law, Maddie?”
I laugh as we walk through the foyer.
“You have to promise to help me out in there,” she whispers as we head back toward the table.
“I’m here for you.”
When we reach the table, Sid pastes a big (okay, slightly phony) smile on her face as she reaches for Ian’s hand. “Ian McMahan, it’s been so long. How have you been anyway?”
He stands now and takes her hand as a somewhat shy smile barely turns up the corners of his mouth. “I’m doing well, Sidney. And you are looking as lovely as ever.”
Her smile grows more genuine. “I’m sorry to run out on you like that, but I remembered something I had to take care of.” She holds up her hands. “You know how it is being a busy journalist. Always getting calls from the home office, new assignments, stories breaking.”
“You’re a journalist?” he says with interest. “I’m sure you must be a very good one.”
And on it goes. The two of them chatting away like old friends. Okay, I’m thinking perhaps they both have a bit of the blarney in them. Perhaps Sid more than Ian. But as the evening progresses, I relax a little. And Ryan seems amused by their conversation. And the food is fantastic!
“Would you like to have dessert in a private room?” Ian asks as we come to the end of our meal. “Then we could all speak more freely.”
Sid’s brows lift a bit. “That sounds nice.”
Ian nods to a waiter and then escorts us to a room off the back. It’s very elegant with more candlelight and another fireplace that’s already burning. A table full of a selection of desserts is already set up, along with coffee, tea, and some kind of after-dinner wine.
“Looks like someone was expecting us,” says Sid as she slides into a big, comfortable chair.
“This is nice,” I observe.
“It’s a room we use for dignitaries,” he says.
“Well, I feel special,” says Sid in a teasing voice.
Then Ian asks us what we’d like and acts as our waiter as he brings us dessert and coffee, then finally sits down to join us.
“I thought you might have some questions,” Ian begins, “and that we might all be more comfortable with a private setting.”
“Maddie has already filled me in some,” Sid says, giving me a look that I think must be a hint. “She spoke to someone at the peace camp about you.”
“Peace House?” His brow creases slightly.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “I noticed a photograph of you there, and I asked Murphy some questions.”
“You spoke to Murphy?” Ian looks surprised.
I nod. “He’s really nice. And for some reason he trusted me. I told him a little about my aunt and Ryan’s dad and stuff. And then I asked him about you. I hope you don’t mind, but he told me about your involvement with Peace House.”
I can tell Ian doesn’t really want to talk about this, but I explain how Ryan was having a hard time accepting Ian’s role in his dad’s death. “Neither one of us could figure out why you didn’t drive him to the airport that day,” I finally say, just laying my cards on the table. “It was suspicious. He was killed, but you weren’t. Can you see what I mean?” I glance over at Ryan, and he seems relieved that I brought this up.
Ian nods slowly. “Yes. I guess I never looked at it like that. I always figured everyone would know how upset I was to lose both a brother and a friend that day. And I suppose I blamed myself too. I thought maybe if I had been driving, well, things would’ve gone differently. I ran it through my head over and over.”
“Ryan doesn’t know why you weren’t driving that day,” I say.
So Ian tells us all about how he’d been getting in
volved in the peace camp. “It was your aunt’s influence,” he tells me. “She’d been very committed to it, and after she left—and I realized all that I’d lost—well, I looked into helping out myself.” He looks at Sid now. “It was amazing. When I started working with the kids, getting to know them one on one, I felt things changing inside of me. It’s as if the children helped me to heal. And finally I realized I had to cut all ties to the IRA. I’d been working on doing just that when Michael came back. And although I spent time with him, I felt torn. I’d already committed to transport those children from Belfast to Peace House even though the dates for the transports hadn’t been nailed down. Just the same, I felt I had to stick to that commitment, especially when I couldn’t find anyone to do it for me.” He sadly shakes his head. “And then…well, you know what happened.”
Ryan nods now. “Thanks for telling me, Ian. It makes sense.”
“As broken up as I was over what happened that day,” he continues, “it sealed the deal for me. I knew I would never go back.”
We talk and talk, finally moving on to lighter topics. Ian tells us how he spent some time in France and how much he enjoyed their food. “And I met Jean Marsilius and enticed him to come back and help me start this restaurant.” He waves his hand. “That was about seventeen years ago.”
“It’s a beautiful restaurant,” Sid tells him.
“Thank you.”
I’m not sure if it’s the candlelight or what, but their eyes seem to be glowing, and the atmosphere has definitely warmed up in here, and I’m not talking about the fireplace.
“Goodness,” says Sid. “It’s so late, and we still have to drive to Malin.”
“Do you have more interviews?” he asks.
“No, it was just our destination.”
“Oh.” He nods.
“Why don’t we spend the night in Derry?” I suggest.
“Yeah,” says Ryan. “You don’t like to drive at night anyway, Sid.”
“There are good hotels nearby,” Ian offers, “and lots of good sights to see in Derry County.”
So that settles it. We thank Ian for a lovely dinner, and he calls ahead and makes a reservation at a hotel that’s only three blocks away. “My friend William runs this place,” he tells Sid. “I think you will be pleased.”
His friend’s place turns out to be perfect. Not one of the huge, impersonal hotels but still with all the bells and whistles. Not only that, but his friend gives us the “friends discount,” which pleases Sid.
Sid and I share a room again. “Thanks, Maddie,” she tells me before we go to sleep. “For everything.”
And before I go to sleep, I thank God for working this thing out. Okay, I realize that Sid and Ian aren’t falling madly in love or getting married or anything. At least not that I know of. But they didn’t kill each other either.
Nineteen
After two delightful days in Derry, with Ian as our devoted guide, we had to part ways this morning in order to make it down to Galway and Shannon Airport in time for our flight home. Ian and Sid promised to stay in touch through e-mail, and Ryan said he actually caught them kissing last night! But we agreed not to tease her about this.
Now we are flying home, and I can hardly believe its only been two weeks since we came here. Seriously, I feel like a totally different person.
“You seem pretty relaxed,” my aunt observes as she closes her laptop and leans back into the seat.
“Why not?” I say.
She laughs. “Don’t you remember how frightened you were on the flight out? I thought I was going to have to ask the flight attendant for a sedative for you.”
I shrug. “That was then….”
“Hey, I forgot to tell you I talked to your mom at the airport.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I wanted to make sure she had the adjusted flight schedule.”
“Yeah, I figured I’d just call her when we got back into the States,” I tell her. “But she probably appreciated hearing from you. You know how protective she can be.”
“I know. That’s why I figured I should give her a heads-up, since we’ll be a few hours late.”
“Thanks.”
“I told her how great you were to travel with.”
“You did?”
“Sure.” Sid smiles. “And I told her I was impressed with what a mature, smart, and thoughtful young woman they had raised.”
“You really said that?”
“Why not?”
“Wow, thanks again.”
“And I told her I’d probably want to take you on all my trips now.”
“That’d be cool.”
“Well, your mom wasn’t too excited about that. Seems she’s been missing you. And your dad too.”
I nod. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Dad’s probably getting ready to harvest and wants me to drive the combine. Mom probably misses me helping with her garden.”
“Oh, it’s probably more than that.”
“Yeah. The truth is, I miss them too.”
Sid glances at Ryan peacefully snoozing across the aisle from us. Just as he was on the way over. Although his mouth is closed at the moment, no slobber drooling down his chin. “You know you’re lucky to have them, Maddie.”
“My family, you mean?”
She nods and keeps looking at Ryan.
“I know…”
“But I think he’s feeling more of a sense of family now.”
“I hope so.” I take a quick glance to be sure he’s really asleep, then lower my voice. “He’s a nice guy, Sid. I really like him.”
She winks at me, then opens her computer again. “Guess I should keep plugging away on this story”
“The one about the RIRA?”
“Yeah. People need to know about this stuff. They need to remember that just because some papers have been signed and some weapons have been destroyed, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s over. It takes a lot of people to make and to keep peace.”
I consider this as I open my journal and begin to write. I remember how I was fighting with Ryan and even my aunt at first, arguing with them about whether it was right to drink Guinness. I guess that’s how religious wars get started. In the end, I decided it wasn’t right for me to drink Guinness. Not because God wrote it out in the heavens, but because it gave me a headache and didn’t taste that good. Maybe that was God’s way of showing me what’s best for me. Or maybe I still need to figure some things out. More important, he showed me I can’t tell other people what’s best for them.
I think about my friend Katie and how she thought she’d be engaged before I got home. I remember how adamant I was about that being wrong, wrong, wrong. Now I’m not so sure. I guess I’ll tell her that she’ll have to figure it out for herself. Well, with God’s help. I write several more pages and finally end up falling asleep.
“Please prepare for landing,” the flight attendant is saying over the loudspeaker. “Please put your tray tables into their upright position. Make sure your seat belts are securely fastened and seats fully upright.”
I sit up straight and follow the instructions, thinking how we’ll be home soon. Ryan is awake now, and he smiles at me from across the aisle. “Doing okay?” he asks.
“Fine.” I smile at him and wish I could think of something else to say. It’s hard to believe that after hanging with him for two weeks, this is it. We’ll be saying good-bye. I mean, I could give him my phone number, but that seems pretty weird. Still, the idea of parting ways makes me really, really sad. I think he’s one of the sweetest guys I know.
“Oh, yeah.” My aunt nudges me. “I almost forgot to tell you, Maddie. Your mom can’t pick you up at the airport.”
“She can’t?” I feel my spirits plunging.
“She had something at the church. The flight delay kind of messed that up for her.”
“Are you taking me home?” I ask hopefully.
“Sorry. I have to go into the office and figure some things out.”
&
nbsp; “Well, what then?” I’m suddenly feeling like a discarded piece of baggage—like something someone forgot to pick up.
“While you were turning in your receipts at the airport, I asked Ryan if he had time to give you a lift, and he said no problem. Do you mind?”
I feel my face bursting into a smile. “Not at all.” Then I pull my brows together. “Although you could’ve asked me first.”
She nods. “Kind of like you asked me about meeting with Ian?”
“Okay…you got me. We’re even now.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“What?”
“Well, I wasn’t kidding when I told your mom I’d like to take you on some more trips, Maddie. It gets old traveling alone. I realize you have school and a life, but what do you think about coming along once in a while?”
“Are you kidding?”
“I’m serious.”
“I’d love to!” Okay, I’m imagining Paris, Rome, maybe the Swiss Alps, or even Russia. This could be totally awesome. I can’t wait to tell Katie. No more fresh-off-the-farm jokes about me.
“Great!” Her eyes light up. “How do you feel about Papua New Guinea?”
“Papua New Guinea?” I hear the enthusiasm draining from my voice. “Isn’t that some third-world country where people still live in the Stone Age?”
She smiles. “It’s an amazing country, Maddie. No place like it on the planet. Unfortunately there’s an AIDS epidemic brewing there with the potential to mimic what’s happened in sub-Saharan Africa. That’s what my story will be about.”
“Papua New Guinea…” I say the exotic name again, trying to soak this in. “Isn’t that near Australia?”
“Yes, it’s the largest island in the South Pacific. Think rainforest jungles and exotic birds and tribal cultures. Very remote and unique. Not many people get to travel to places like that.”
“Okay.” I think her enthusiasm is catching now. “That might be cool.”
And so, as our plane lands at Sea-Tac, I imagine myself in lightcolored safari-type clothes, walking through a tropical jungle, trying to read a map and a compass. And, okay, my image is a little fuzzy, but I think it’ll come into focus before long.
Notes from a Spinning Planet—Ireland Page 18