The opportunity to finally and truly rest was exquisite. Sarah thought how close she came to staying at the compound instead of being here where she was safe, where she could relax, nurse her child, recharge and get strong. After a long bath, a longer nap and clean clothes, all of them met up in the grand hall for dinner. Sarah counted twenty five sisters—most of them in their sixties or older— plus Garrett the gardener and Angelina the Mother Superior. A cot had been set up next to Sarah’s chair where Siobhan slept blissfully silent.
The meal was grown from their gardens and made from their livestock. They had pigs, chickens, goats and even cows. They made their own wine, grew all their own vegetables, and wove their own linens. The convent, which had been there for over three hundred years, had never had electricity. No one had visited them in over ten years.
“Well, you are off the beaten path,” Sarah said as they ate.
“Deliberately so,” Angelina said. “We are an order of service to mothers but usually that means troubled girls.”
“Unwed,” Sophia said.
Angelina looked at her and smiled. “Yes. You are with child, Sophia?”
Regan’s eyes widened. “Wow. You’re good!” Everyone laughed.
John was leaning on his elbow as he ate and Sarah realized how exhausting his job had been the last twenty-four hours. She wasn’t even sure he’d slept since the night Archie was killed.
“Go on, John,” Sarah said. “Go to bed. We’re safe now. Thanks to you.”
“I think I might,” John said with an apologetic smile.
The gardener stood too. “I’ll show him where.”
“Thank you, Garrett,” Angelina said.
John went to his mother and gave her a quick kiss. He nodded at Angelina. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
After the two left the room, Sarah turned to the Mother Superior.
“Garret seems a very sweet young man,” she said.
“He’s like a son to us.”
“So he lives with you?”
“He was born here. A girl in trouble, many years ago. We were prepared to adopt him out—or even help the lass keep him if that was her wish—but Garrett was born special and she’d have none of him.” The Mother Superior looked in the direction that Garrett had gone. “It was God’s greatest gift to this house when she turned away from him.”
*********
A single sparrow hawk flew in deliberate circles overhead. It was hunting voles and mice in the hedges that lined the pasture where Mike and Gavin sat, resting. Mike watched the raptor, watched it pick its moment, select its victim.
It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do—let Jaz and the rest of them drive back to Ameriland without him. He was so desperate to see Sarah again, to see for himself that she was well—and the baby. Surely it had been born by now. When he reflected on how quickly things could turn to shite, he was amazed he’d been so stupid as to leave her. And for what? Was he any closer to finding Fiona and the others?
“You okay, Da?”
They’d already walked a full day and slept in the woods. Not at any point did they hear dogs or vehicles on the roads. Was it possible the wankers wouldn’t even bother coming out to recapture them? Would they just move on to the next village and fill up their trucks?
“Short of starving, I’m grand,” he said, trying to smile for Gavin’s sake. The lad must be every bit as concerned about Sophia and yet he’d not made a peep about it.
“Just ready to be home.”
“And me. Are we any where near the horses?”
“Not far.”
“I still can’t believe we made it out. I was worried there for a bit.”
“No faith in your old man, then?” but the joke fell flat even to Mike’s ears. Too many people had died, too many people had suffered. As long as he lived he’d never forget the sight of Father Ryan as a human torch, flaming out in the brief moments of darkness of the solar eclipse. He’d been wrong about him. And it hurt that he hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him.
They walked several hours more, passing at one point a stand of horse chestnut trees with a large sign nailed to the tallest one: Plague Quarantine Keep Out
“What do you think that’s all about?” Gavin asked.
“I don’t know. But let’s give it a wide berth.”
“There looks to be a village up ahead. Can we beg some grub, d’ye think?”
“We can try,” Mike said.
The village had half a dozen shops with shattered display windows. There were two cars on the street but nobody to be seen within or without the buildings.
“Creepy,” Gavin said. “I think I remember this town from before. It had a great little pub in it.”
“Aye. Because it was so close to the turn off for the A8. I remember it too.”
“Not doing too well now though.”
They found the pub at the end of the street. Remembering only too well their last encounter at a pub, Mike double checked the bullets in their one handgun and they went inside.
A man stood behind the bar with his back to them.
“Afternoon,” Mike said pleasantly, his eyes scanned the interior. Two men sat together at a table, two glasses in front of them. They nodded at him. “Is there a possibility we might work for the price of a lunch?”
The bartender turned at the sound of Mike’s voice and dropped the glass he was polishing.
It was Declan.
Chapter 49
Gavin reacted before anyone else. He jumped over the bar and took Declan by both shoulders.
“Uncle Declan! You’re alive!”
Mike moved around to the back of the bar and pulled Declan into his arms for a hard hug.
“My father-in-law thinks he buried you, Declan. What the feck happened? The rest of the men saw you dragged out of the truck and two shots fired.”
Declan stared at Mike as if seeing him for the first time.
“Declan, man, are ye not right? What happened? Why are ye here?”
Declan looked from Mike to Gavin. It was as if his mind was racing to understand what he was seeing and hearing.
“Oh, my God,” he said. “Oh, my God.”
Mike pulled Declan out from behind the bar and led him to a chair. It was then he noticed that the two men who’d been in the pub had vanished. He hadn’t noticed them leaving. Mike pushed one of the glasses of beer toward Declan.
“How long?” Declan asked, his voice a rasping version of his former baritone. “How long have I been gone?”
Mike and Gavin exchanged a look.
“Five months,” Mike said. “The Garda came to the compound in December. Do ye not remember it, man?”
“Then the dreams are true,” Declan said, shaking his head. He looked at Mike with tears in his eyes. “Fiona?”
“Alive, I think. And the bairn. At least I pray so. What happened to you? How did you get here?”
“I don’t truly know,” Declan said. “I know I was shot.” He put a hand to his head and Mike could see the scar where the bullet had creased his temple. “I was left for dead but they found me. The people here.”
“The villagers?” Mike asked frowning.
“Aye. They said I was waylaid. They found me and nursed me back. I would have died without them.”
Mike sat down heavily in a chair while Gavin remained standing.
“Did they say how they found you?”
“On the road. With another man. Dead.”
“That must be who Granddad buried,” Gavin said. “He said he was wearing your watch, Uncle Declan.”
“I lost me watch to Hobart playing cards months ago.” The look on Declan’s face changed and darkened as the memories began coming back to him.
“So it was Hobart’s body Granddad found,” Gavin said. “How did he not know it wasn’t you?”
With half his head blown away and both men dark haired with full beards—and Declan’s watch on his wrist—Mike could see how the mi
stake was made.
“The Garda took Fiona and the others!” Declan stood up. “I…I have headaches now. I can’t remember…I have terrible dreams. I thought she was…I thought…” He broke down sobbing into his hands. “Ye tell me they live still, Mike? And I’ve been here all this time with no real memory of her nor my darling little one.” He looked up at Mike with agony in his eyes. “Little…?”
“Ciara,” Mike said.
Declan looked at his hands as if in wonder, the tears coursing down his cheeks. “How could I forget them?”
Mike put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, man. But you’ll be coming with us now. We’ll take ye home, Dec.”
“And Fiona and the little one?”
“We’ll find them.”
The door kicked open suddenly and four men walked in, two with rifles and two with cricket bats.
“That’s him!” someone yelled from behind them. “The redhead. He’s the one!”
Mike stood up with his hand hovering near his belt and the gun handle inches from his fingers.
“We want no trouble with you, friend,” Mike said in a loud voice as Gavin moved to put the bar to his back.
“Well, it’s trouble ye’ll get, ye bloody bastard,” the tallest man with the rifle said as he pointed the gun at Gavin. “And plenty of it. For it was me own daughter this bastard was seen taking screaming from her mother’s arms.”
*********
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing Fiona Cooper,” Nuala said hotly, “but you need to get right back in that bed.”
Fiona stood next to the window in the tent and watched the sun inch downward. She didn’t know what had happened to the new men that Sinead and Mac had brought back from Dublin but she hadn’t seen them again.
That was good.
She knew that Mac and Sinead had left and Hannah found out from the cook that they weren’t expected to return until late.
“Fiona! Are ye mad? Please get back in bed.”
Fiona’s belly contracted and she grabbed the post by the door, her face white with pain. Nuala came to her and put an arm around her shoulders.
“For the love of God, ye stubborn eejit,” Nuala said. “Do I have to carry ye there meself?”
Fiona pulled away.
“Stop it, Nuala,” Fiona said between her teeth as the pain receded. She glanced over at Ciara and Maeve. The dinner cart had come and gone and both children had eaten well for a change.
“Please keep an eye on Ciara for me,” Fiona said.
“Do ye need help to the bog then, Fiona?” Nuala said. “Because Mac said ye are to use the bowl instead.”
“I’m going across to the fence,” Fiona said.
Nuala’s mouth hung open in stark, speechless amazement.
“Watch Ciara for me. I’ll be back in half an hour or less.”
Two other pregnant women joined Nuala and stared at Fiona with concern in their eyes.
“Is she going off her head then?” one of them asked.
Fiona went to the door and peeked out again. By her count there were only four men left in camp. The others had gone with Sinead and Mac. Her heart pounded with frenetic expectation.
“Fiona, lass,” Nuala said softly. “I’m that worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” Fiona said as she took a dark shawl from a hook by the door and wrapped it around herself. She’d just seen the four men split up to do a circuit of the camp as she’d seen them do many times before. They repeated the walk at the top of every hour. Then they’d take turns visiting the nonpregnant women in their tents.
More women gathered behind her but before they could ask any more questions, Fiona opened the door and slipped outside. It was cold and the ground was wet, as it had rained most of the day. Fiona knew the moonless night would shield her in case one of the sentries made it through his round faster than usual. She had barely an hour before they’d make their first visit to the pregnancy tent.
After what had happened the last time Sinead left the camp, Fiona was confident the four men left behind would not visit the pregnancy tent.
She walked quickly across the courtyard toward the door in the fence. Every step sent a searing thump into Fiona’s abdomen. She held her belly with both hands to soften the impact. Her breath was coming in quick pants, her heart pounding in her throat.
She didn’t worry about being apprehended for her own sake. Nothing would be done to her except possibly a guard posted at their tent. She worried only about the loss of the opportunity. The next time Sinead and Mac left the camp—likely to go to Dublin with a baby—they wouldn’t take three fourths of the security force with them. And they especially wouldn’t if Fiona failed tonight.
She reached the fence door. She’d seen the men come and go through this door enough times to know it wasn’t locked on this side. She would be able to get in with no problem but getting back out would be problematic if she let the door shut and lock behind her. She opened the door and stepped inside.
Instantly Fiona smelled a rank curdle of fear and despair as clearly as if it had been labeled for her. The minute she stepped to the other side, the odor clung to the air like a noxious cloud. Her first thought was Thank God the children didn’t live here any more. Her second was, this is where I will live when I lose my baby.
Two tents faced her, one large and one small. A glow came from the large tent from the same battery operated lanterns they used in the pregnancy tent. The small tent was dark. Fiona guessed that one was probably what Sinead referred to as the “insemination lab.” Fiona stood by the fence and took her bearings just in case one of the sentries was passing on the elevated catwalk that lined the back half of the camp. Sinead had wisely put her money into security for this part of the camp. There were no catwalks visible from the pregnancy tent.
But it was a whole different world over here.
Chapter 50
As guest rooms went, it wasn’t totally dismal, Jamison White thought as he finished unpacking his valise and put away his clothes. He lit a cigarette and glanced at the covered dish on the desk next to the note from Sinead Branigan. While it was highly irregular not to be greeted on his first night in camp, he had to admit that Sinead’s “emergency” as she referred to it in her note would end up working out rather tidily for him.
He still couldn’t get over his luck. His indescribable, world-shattering luck. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette. He was clearly favored by the gods, he thought with a chuckle. The fact that Sinead had paid for a car to deliver him today told him she was good for the rest of it. No reason to think she wouldn’t be. He’d just had some unfortunate experiences that made it difficult to trust people.
Perhaps that was all behind him now.
A pot of jam. That’s what he’d told Mother earlier this week when Sinead visited and suggested the position to him. It’s like falling into a pot of jam.
He whipped off the cover of the food dish. It didn’t look terrible. Certainly edible. Sinead said she was feeding the pregnant women well. That was very good. It meant she was impressionable. Malleable. Oh, she came off hard and in control—they all did—even Mother. But deep down they wanted to be told.
He picked up a fork and stabbed the piece of roast chicken on the dish and held it to his nose, sniffed, and then set it down.
Aye, the first order of business would definitely be a little introduction visit to the expectant mothers. Later, if Sinead complained, he would say he hadn’t understood her note to mean he wasn’t to go there. Perfectly reasonable mistake.
He stabbed his cigarette out in the creamed corn.
After all. He was a doctor, with only the ladies’ best interests at heart.
**********
Fiona didn’t knock but opened the door and stood silently waiting for them to see her. Like the pregnancy tent, the large open room had three rows of single beds. The women, seated on their beds or standing in small groups, were in various stage of undress. Whether dark or blonde,
tall or short, every woman had her hair pulled back or, like Julie, wore it short.
“Fi!”
A woman broke from the back of the tent. Fiona would never have recognized Jill except for her voice. She ran to Fiona, her eyes wild and amazed. She looked behind Fiona as if expecting someone else. Her once long beautiful dark hair was cropped close to her head as if she’d been shorn. She had a fading bruise under one eye.
“Dear God, Jill…” Fiona said.
“What are you doing here?” a woman yelled. “What is she doing here?”
“Is it the bairns?” another woman shouted and pushed Jill away from Fiona. She was tall with a hard face. Her hair was also cut short. “Is one of ‘em…are they…”
“The children are fine,” Fiona said. She scanned the group of women. Most stayed on their beds but many approached her, openly curious. She saw Megan and her heart leapt in recognition. But the girl sat with her back against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. A teenaged girl broke through the huddle of women surrounding Fiona and grabbed her hand.
“Did me Da send you?” she asked. Fiona recognized her as the girl who had been brought in screaming and fighting just two days earlier.
“I…I’m sorry. No, he didn’t,” Fiona said gently. She turned to look at the women in the tent. “Is Julie here?” Nobody responded.
“Except for little Molly here,” Jill said with her hand on the teenager’s shoulder, “there’s been no new ones brought in. Why are ye here, Fi? Where are the…the bastards?”
At her words, Fiona saw many of the women stiffen, their eyes wide in anticipation and fear.
“Sinead took Mac and most of the men on some kind of raid,” Fiona said. “There are only four men left in the whole camp.”
Jill’s shoulders slumped. “But they have weapons,” she said. “Might as well be twenty. We can’t fight off four men with weapons.”
“Aye,” Fiona said. “But they won’t use their weapons against the pregnant women. They’ve been warned.”
“Good for you,” someone said sarcastically. “We’re happy for ye.”
Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6 Page 74