“Yes.” Kate nodded her head. “That must have been it.”
“You’re very close to him,” he observed.
“I’m close to both my children. Deirdre is at Queen’s.”
Neil knew that but said nothing. “When I pass the roundabout, where shall I turn?”
“Take the main road across the lake. We’re at the end of the first street.”
Neil turned down a narrow street with no access that led to three homes, separated by a wide expanse of grassland, all with magnificent views of the sea. “This is a lovely neighborhood,” he said. “Have you lived here long?”
“Patrick and I bought the house about ten years ago.” Kate’s voice was flat, her eyes empty. She stopped, bit her lip and started again. “I grew up in Ardara and my father still lives here. I wanted to be close to him.” She pointed to the house on the end, a lovely, spread out gray-gabled home with a stone fence and large, diamond-paned windows. “Here we are.”
He pulled into the long driveway, turned off the engine and walked around the car to open the passenger door. “You might consider seeing a doctor. The accident was a nasty one.”
“All right.” Kate walked beside him to the front porch. At the door she turned and hesitated. Courtesy warred with wariness. Courtesy won. “You’ve gone to a bit of trouble. May I offer you a bite to eat, Mr. Anderson? It won’t be fancy, but at least you’ll have a meal before you return home.”
“I think not,” he said, frowning. “You can’t possibly mean to cook a meal after what you’ve been through. You need rest, possibly a visit to a physician, if not a hospital.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “Of course I mean to cook. We have to eat.”
He frowned. “I can bring food in.”
Kate laughed. “In Ardara?”
“There must be something.”
She folded her hands and looked up at him. “Cooking soothes me. Feeding people is extremely satisfying. Please, you’ve been very kind. Allow me to make you a meal.”
Perhaps it would be best if he stayed. If she collapsed, he would be nearby. It was an excuse. He knew it as soon as the thought crossed his mind. Something told him Kate Nolan had never collapsed in her life. She was a survivor. But there was her son to consider. “What about Kevin?”
“Perhaps you’ll get to know him better.”
There was a motive behind her graciousness. He found it didn’t bother him a bit. Smiling a slow, genuine smile, he said, “That would be grand. Please, call me Neil.”
The door was unlocked. She preceded him into the entry. He was conscious of light, rich and warm streaming through colored glass, warm golden wood, greenery and comfortable furnishings. This was a home, a real home where people lived.
Kate stood at the bottom of the staircase, her hand resting on the carved railing. “Kevin,” she called out, “are you home?”
“Aye, Mum. I’m upstairs.”
“We have a bit over an hour before we leave. Call Grandda and ask him if we can use his car.”
“What’s happened to ours?”
“It’s in the shop. Come down and say hello. We have a guest for dinner.”
Kevin appeared at the top of the landing. He peered over the railing and his face froze.
“Hello, Kevin,” Neil said. He recognized terror when he saw it. The boy’s hands trembled.
“Why are you here?” Kevin asked.
Keeping his voice calm, Neil answered him. “Your mother was in an accident. I happened by at the right time. She needed a lift home and she invited me to dinner.”
Kevin relaxed. “I’m not hungry, Mum. You don’t have to fix me anything.”
“Kevin—”
Neil interrupted her. “Perhaps I should leave.”
Kate’s beautiful manners prevailed. “You’ll do no such thing. I’ve invited you to dinner and you’ve accepted. If Kevin isn’t hungry, he’ll eat later.” She smiled bracingly. “Would you like a drink?”
“Only if you join me.”
Kate walked to the antique sideboard, opened the cabinet and poured out two glasses of Irish Mist, no ice.
He lifted his glass. “Cheers.”
“Slainte,” she returned. “It was very nice of you to drive me all the way here. I hope you didn’t have plans.”
“None that would be a problem to reschedule. I would like to make a phone call. Is there somewhere I can do that without disturbing you?”
“Of course.” Kate led him into a beautifully appointed study with hunter-green walls, Persian carpets, thick white moldings and a couch and chair done up in burgundy leather. A natural golden light spilled across book-lined shelves filling every available wall and corner.
Confused, Neil looked around for the source. Kate pointed toward a skylight paned with yellow and amber glass. He wasn’t a man to wear his emotions on his sleeve but the sight of streaming golden light filtering into a room that belonged in Architectural Digest took his breath away. His voice was reverent. “This is incredible. Did you do it yourself?”
“Thank you. I planned it but I hired someone to install the window and paint the walls.”
“It must be difficult to leave in the morning.”
“Sometimes,” Kate admitted. “I’ll leave you to your phone call and start dinner.”
She had stuffed and browned the chops, torn the spinach, tossed the salad and started on the table when Neil returned to the dining room. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“It’s my once-a-month weekend with my daughter. She comes up from London,” he explained. “My ex-wife and I don’t always agree on how we should share her time.”
“Strange, but I hadn’t imagined you a father. How old is she?”
“Thirteen.”
“Ouch.” Kate smiled. “A difficult age.”
“A lovely, responsible child who takes a great deal on her shoulders.”
She changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Good. We’ll eat soon. Will it be water, fruit juice or wine with dinner?”
“Water, please. Otherwise I won’t be worth much on the drive home.”
They ate informally, on the wooden table in the kitchen, sitting not at the head and foot of the table, but on either side, companionably. They spoke of the Peace Accord, of Belfast, of changes in the Six Counties. She described her job.
Neil listened attentively, watching the play of light around her mouth, the line of her throat. He was conscious of her femininity, a woman utterly serious, warm and poised, but businesslike, without a hint of coyness.
Her home, the home she’d created without her husband, reflected her, warmth, light, classically beautiful, highly functional. This was a woman with hidden reserves.
“You’re very quiet,” she said, after a lengthy pause. “I’ve talked the entire time.”
He smiled. “The meal was delicious, Mrs. Nolan.”
“Kate.”
“Very well, Kate. I don’t often have anything like this.”
“How long have you been divorced?”
“Ten years.”
Her face was expressive. She was counting backward. He would make it easier for her.
“I left when my little girl was three years old.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s over. The mistake has been remedied and I have a lovely daughter.”
“Do you see her often?”
“As often as I can. At least once a month and every other holiday. She has school and friends in London.
Sometimes it’s difficult for her to break away. I’m grateful for what I can get.”
“Of course,” Kate murmured. She couldn’t imagine a life without her children, watching them grow, waking them in the morning, sitting across the table listening to their good-natured grousing about the food, teasing them, hugging them, advising them. What would she be without them?
Neil’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I’ve taken up your time. It’
s nearly six o’clock.”
“It’s all right. I’ll leave the dishes to soak and finish up when I come back.”
Kevin stood in the doorway. “Grandda’s coming by with the car. He said he would give us a lift.”
“Does he know we’re going back to Donegal?”
“I told him.”
Kate sighed and spoke to Neil. “My father is a love but he can be relentless. Perhaps...” Her voice trailed off.
Neil grinned. “You don’t want him interrogating me.”
“Yes.”
He stood. “I’ll be leaving now. Thanks again for the meal. I’ll repay you whenever you’re back in Belfast.”
“That isn’t necessary,” she assured him. “You drove me home.”
He smiled and stood there for a moment looking down at her.
She pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “I’ll walk you to the door. Be careful going back. The roads aren’t good this time of year.”
Mindful of who she was and the space she kept between them, he left her on the porch with a friendly wave. “Goodbye, Kate,” he said and walked to his car.
She hugged herself against the cold, a slight, straight figure standing on the porch rubbing her arms. “Goodbye. Thanks again for the ride,” she called out.
He nodded, waved again and drove away.
Eight
They walked apart in stony silence, Kevin first and then Kate, keeping their distance, until they reached the car.
Kevin climbed inside, slammed the door and glared angrily at his mother. “What was that all about? Why did you bring me here?”
Kate’s brow creased. Worry had become second nature to her. “I’m concerned. You’ve been different lately.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Kevin, the Belfast incident terrified me. Surely you understand that.”
“I told you. It was nothing. It won’t happen again.” “
If I understood why it happened in the first place, I might have more confidence that you’re telling me the truth.”
“Are you saying you don’t believe me?”
“No. I’m saying you can’t possibly give me a guarantee unless you know what led you down that path in the first place.”
Kevin groaned in frustration. “There is no path. It was just something that happened.”
Kate snapped. “What happened isn’t going to happen again. Not as long as I’m here. I’m having trouble trusting you and I don’t like the feeling. I love you. Deirdre and Grandda love you. Our family has gone through enough. We owe it to each other to make the best of what we’ve been given. Do you honestly feel you’re doing that, Kevin? Does skipping school, earning failing marks and being arrested for narcotics possession make sense in light of all that? Do you think that’s what your father would have wanted?”
“I don’t want to spill my soul to a bloody counselor,” Kevin muttered. “Why do I have to do that?”
“Because there’s nothing else to do, nowhere else to go. Something has to be done and if you think you’ve fooled anyone by insisting that you don’t have any worries, think again.”
“I never said that.”
“Well, what are they?”
She saw the red rise in his cheeks. Irish skin. Patrick’s skin. Her hands tightened on the wheel. “You don’t have to tell me, Kevin, but you must tell someone. That’s why I made the appointment. I wanted you to feel as if you could confide in someone completely impartial. Can you see that?”
He turned toward her. “Give me one more chance, Mum,” Kevin pleaded. “Please. I won’t botch it again. I promise. Please, don’t make me do this again.”
She was no match for the pleading look on her son’s face but Kate was well into her second decade of motherhood and she’d learned a bit from the last one. One did not make decisions without thinking them through with a cool head. This was one of those times. “I’ll consider it, love” was all she would give him.
Kevin changed the subject. “When can I apply for my driving license?”
“I think you need to give it more time.”
“I’m a decent driver.”
“I know you are.” Kate smiled reassuringly. “But there’s more to driving an automobile than good reflexes. Others on the road may not be good drivers like the man who almost killed me today.”
Kevin, in typical teenage fashion, ignored the reference. “How much longer do I have to wait?”
“A bit of practice every day for the rest of the month would satisfy me.”
Kevin’s face brightened. “Will you be home for me to do that?”
“I’ll make a point of it,” she promised, forcing a cheerful expression. Kevin behind the wheel of a car. The very thought of it sucked the air from her lungs. Her insides felt as if they were caving in. She didn’t know if she could negotiate the short drive back to the small beachfront village that was home.
“Thanks, Grandda,” Kevin shouted over his shoulder. “I’ll have the car back to you by half past six.”
John O’Donnell lifted his hand in farewell. “Be safe, lad.”
Kevin was elated. It was a stroke of good fortune that he’d passed his driving test the first time. Few did, but then few parents were as exacting as his mother. The extra practice had paid off and now he was to be trusted alone in a car for the first time.
He adjusted the seat and then the rearview mirror. His grandfather was shorter by nearly five inches. After fastening his seat belt, he signaled and pulled out on to the nearly empty street. It was exhilarating at first, to control thousands of pounds, to merely touch the wheel and feel an immediate response. Kevin turned the corner past the chemist’s shop leading to the road out of town. After passing the last residential street, he pressed harder on the gas. Signposts flashed by. The road leveled out. He grinned and pressed harder. The speed energized him. Peat fields and herds of sheep flew by. He ignored the No Overtaking sign and passed a tractor and two cyclists.
A stop sign on the Clifdon Road loomed ahead. Kevin pressed down on the brake hard. The car slowed to a complete stop. He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes had elapsed since he’d left his grandfather’s house. The warm glow of his first solo drive had left him. Now what? He drummed his fingers on the wheel and considered his dilemma. What good were a license and a car if he couldn’t show anyone? He thought of visiting Johnny Gallagher and immediately discarded the idea. He’d rejected his friend’s birthday invitation. More than likely he wouldn’t be welcome at the Gallaghers’ anymore. Where could he go?
Slowly he pulled into the intersection, negotiated a three-corner turn and drove back the way he came. Tim Murphy wasn’t really a friend and neither was Sean Payne, but they would admire his car. They might even want him to drive them somewhere. He could always count on the two of them to be close to home. They were older, out of school and on the dole. Kevin knew exactly where to find them.
Cleary’s Pub was a fixture on the outskirts of Ardara. It was old, not so old as Nancy’s or White’s but old enough so that everyone within a fifty-mile radius knew of it. It wasn’t quaint or charming enough to attract tourists, but for the native inhabitants it was a local landmark. Most stories had their roots strongly entrenched in the pitted wood and smoke-stained windows of Cleary’s.
Just as he expected, Kevin found the boys bent over a billiard table, each nursing a pint of foaming Guinness. They barely looked up when he hailed them.
“How have you been?” he ventured.
“What’s it to you?” Sean, beefy and broad-shouldered to Tim’s lean, emaciated height, chugged down half his pint. “You haven’t been beating the doors down.”
Kevin flushed. “You left me in Belfast and I got into some trouble.”
“You weren’t supposed to get jacked. You know that. Anyone who gets jacked is on his own.”
“It was a setup.”
“We heard,” said Tim. “Are you all right then?”
Kevin nodded. “I think so. Nothing really happe
ned.”
“Of course not.” Sean sneered.
Tim straightened and frowned at his companion. “Shut up, Sean. Did you have something to tell us, Kevin?”
“I’ve a driving license and a car.”
The two older boys glanced quickly at each other. Tim spoke first. “That’s grand, lad.”
“Aye,” said Sean. “We’re on the lookout for just such an opportunity, aren’t we, Tim?”
“We are.”
Kevin felt the nervous tick on the edge of his eyelid begin to jump. “What did you have in mind?”
“We need a lift to Belfast.”
“I can’t do that.”
Tim pulled a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offered it to Kevin. “It won’t take long,” he said casually. “No one has to know.”
Kevin shook his head. “I have to be back soon. I’ve my grandda’s car.”
Sean laughed. “We don’t mean today. Wednesday is a good day. We could go on Wednesday.”
“I’ve school on Wednesday.”
“You could take a break,” Tim suggested. “One day off wouldn’t hurt you, a bright lad like you.”
“I haven’t done so well lately.”
“One more day won’t make a difference,” Sean wheedled. “Plan on Wednesday. We need to get to Belfast on Wednesday. We’ll be back in no time. The bus takes twice as long.”
“I’m not sure I can get my grandda’s car on Wednesday. He’ll be suspicious.”
“Ask him if you can drive it to school,” said Sean. “No one will know. Our Tim will write you a letter and sign it. He has a clever hand.”
Kevin frowned. “I won’t say for sure. I’ll have to let you know later.”
Tim rested his hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “You’re not yellow, are you lad? Because if you are we’ll have to let the lads know. It would be the end for you.”
Kevin swallowed. “That’s not it.”
“What is it then?”
“There’s a screw in Belfast. He’s an investigator or something at the RUC station. He didn’t want to let me go. I saw him in Ardara. I think he may be following me, waiting for me to do something wrong.”
“What’s his name?”
“Anderson.”
Once again the two boys glanced at each other and then looked away quickly.
This Irish House Page 8