“Um, well…,” she leaned in close and whispered so as not to hurt the woman’s feelings, “it tastes funny. I don’t think I care for it at all.”
The owner said with a thick Irish brogue, “Tis called a black and white, some call it black pudding. It ‘tis a favorite of himself.”
“Black and white. I’ll remember that,” Vicky said, I’ll remember never to eat it again, “But I especially love your soda bread. It’s delicious.”
“Cheers,” the old woman beamed with pride, “I baked that myself.”
Vicky carried on a conversation with her for quite a while, and had won her over in no time. The woman liked Vicky, because she reminded her of her own daughter, who was off working in Dublin. But when the morning rain shower stopped, Aidan was anxious to get back on the road again. They paid their bill, packed their suitcases and headed for their rental car. Just as they finished putting the luggage in the trunk, the woman came out with a still warm loaf of soda bread, wrapped up in a towel. Vicky hugged her warmly, and Aidan thought the woman had a tear in her eye. She knew her wife was vivacious, but had never seen such a quick bond between total strangers like that before. Vicky got in the car while Aidan went to give the woman a tip. They stood chatting for a minute and then Aidan joined Vicky in the car.
“You asked her about that black pudding thing didn’t you? So what was it I ate?”
“Kid, you do not want to know,” Aidan smirked.
The newlyweds set off down the road, stopping briefly along the way in small towns like Kildare and Thurles. Vicky had a list of people she wanted to buy souvenirs for, so every town they came to, she wanted to stop and explore it, to see what they had to offer. Aidan teased that it was just her excuse to go shopping, and Vicky grinned knowingly.
The newlyweds spent all morning exploring, but when they came to Cashel, in County Tipperary, they spent less time exploring the town, and more time exploring the castle overlooking it. That was what Aidan had been waiting to see because she loved everything about castles. They briefly shopped in the town first, buying more souvenirs and much to Vicky’s delight, soda bread kits. Then they explored all that the castle had to offer.
The Rock of Cashel, as the castle is called, sits on a hill overlooking the fertile, green, checkerboard pastures below. The medieval fortress was once home to mighty lords and kings of Ireland. Vicky found a brochure that told of how the castle dates back twelve centuries, and had a large gothic cathedral, round limestone towers, a centuries old graveyard with Celtic crosses, and a stone wall encircling the stronghold. Although some of the castle had been worn down by time and weather, Aidan believed it could still withstand a ground assault if attacked. The castle brought out the child in Aidan, who delighted in scaling its walls, climbing up to the lookout points, slipping through the crevasses of the fortifications, and disappearing into the dark fissures of the castle.
Vicky was especially intrigued with the original Saint Patrick’s cross in the undercroft of the Hall of the Vicars Choral The museum is located beside the visitor’s center, inside of the castle.
“Aidan, come look at this, it’s the Saint Patrick’s cross! It was believed that Saint Patrick baptized Cashel's third king here. Isn’t that fascinating?” A dreamy smile came across her face, “To think, we could be standing on the very spot where Saint Patrick stood.”
“Well, tis not exactly true, ma’am,” the curator said. “While this be the original cross, it originally stood outside in the graveyard.” He went on to explain that it had been moved inside to preserve the sacred cross from the elements. A concrete replica had been erected it its place outside, to show where the cross originally stood.
Vicky spent a lot of time looking at the large collection of medieval art and artifacts that had excavated from the castle, but Aidan wasn’t as impressed with the art as she was with the person looking at it. She trained her camera on Vicky and snapped pictures at every angle until she was satisfied she had the perfect shot of Vicky admiring the artwork.
At one point Vicky took the camera away from her and snapped photos of Aidan acting goofy while sitting on the stone toilet, or grimacing at the slop sink.
As they toured the outside of the castle, walking through the Celtic crosses and tombstones, the wind buffeted their every move. It was especially strong the closer the two got to the retaining wall. But the wind in no way deterred Vicky’s desire to stand at the foot of the replica cross of Saint Patrick. She looked from the cross, to the other high crosses, and wondered why it looked so completely different. Aidan thought the cross looked like the handle to a beer mug, without the mug, while the Celtic crosses had a circular top with a cross through it. Vicky couldn’t help but laugh at her lover, thinking that she must be ready for another pint of stout.
As the sun began to fall below the horizon, and it was time to leave, Vicky and Aidan reluctantly made their way down the hill, to where their car was parked. But Aidan wasn’t ready to leave just yet. Taking Vicky’s hand, she led the way over to the stone fence that encircled the castle. The two lovers embraced and watched, as the sun’s soft, setting glow, basked the castle with its lancet windows, and round tower, in a warm halo of yellow and orange. It was a picturesque, romantic, intimate moment that just the two of them shared.
The couple drove the short distance back into town, and ate a sumptuous meal consisting of a Gaelic Irish steak, baked potato and sweet Irish potato rolls, washed down with Irish whiskey.
Fully sated, the newlyweds checked into a hotel on the outskirts of town. Lying in bed, exhausted from a full day of exploring, shopping and love making, Vicky was in a talkative mood.
“Remember when we played fort in the tree house and you were the knight in shining armor come to rescue me from the evil king?”
“Oh yeah, that was fun. You were the beautiful princess, trapped in the fort, and I had to swordfight with the evil guards to free you.”
“Honey, I realized today, seeing you climbing up those castle walls, that you are still my knight in shining armor, and you are still rescuing me, every day.”
“Aw, kid, whither thou goest, I will go, always.”
***
“Mr. President, as you know, it was Special Agent Cassidy that caught onto the connection with Ireland. Should I bring her in, sir?” Bradshah sat across from President Trenton at the Trenton Library, down in the historic district of Little Rock. It was one of the few districts that had been miraculously untouched by the tornado.
“And she’s on her way to Ireland right now, correct?”
“She is, sir, but if she’s needed I’m sure she’ll be happy to come back.” Being a local boy, Bradshaw wasn’t accustomed to meeting with high profiles like the former president, and he felt out of his element. But the president, who could play hard ball when warranted, usually just turned on his southern charm, and soon people were eating out of his hands, Bradshah included.
“No. Not at this stage of the game. I’m going to return to Washington and meet with President Sherman and the CIA, and formulate a plan of action based on Aidan’s findings. There is definitely a connection, but President Sherman needs to talk with the Prime Minister first, before anything else is done.”
Trenton and Bradshah talked for a few minutes, looking over the information that had been compiled by Bradshah. He told Trenton of the efforts being made to keep tabs on the cell, which he believed had a new lieutenant in place, since the last leader was killed by Aidan, in the hospital attack. As the president stood to leave, he gave Bradshah a final instruction.
“Keep Aidan on speed dial, Tom. If things go the way I think they will, and so far they have, then I will have to ask her to serve her country one more time.”
“Of course, Mr. President.”
Chapter Three
In a well-lit sterile surgery suite at Mount Sinai, in New York City, Dr. Joyce McMillan, a nationally renowned cardiovascular surgeon, who has operated on such famous people as former President Jackson Trenton, adjust
ed her cordless headlamp and then held her hand out. The charge nurse slapped a scalpel into her gloved hand and as she has done hundreds of times before, Joyce cut into the patient’s chest.
“Could someone adjust the lights please, I can’t see very well,” Joyce said.
As she waited, she began chatting with her charge nurse, Marci Higgins, who was suctioning the blood. “You know my best friend, Vicky, is on her honeymoon as we speak. I must say, that was a perfect wedding.”
The circulator nurse moved the flat panel LED lights around, until Joyce nodded her approval. Marci handed her the oscillating saw, and Joyce began to cut through the sternum, sternum. It only took a few seconds, with her skilled hands. Then Marci worked the retractor and soon the patient’s heart could be seen beating in his chest. To Joyce, the sight of a beating heart excited her. She always felt a natural rush when she heard the blood circulating through the small organ, creating that thumping sound that meant the difference between life and death.
“Did you wear a dress, Doc?” a surgical tech jokingly asked.
“As a matter of fact, I did, and I looked damn good in it too, thank you very much. Not as pretty as the bride though. I’ve never seen a prettier bride, except for my Ellen, that is.” Looking down at her patient, Joyce shook her head, “No, still can’t see very well, move it more to the right, please.” She gently slid her hand under the heart of the patient, feeling the cavity underneath for any abnormalities.
Marci asked, “Doesn’t your friend live in that city that was destroyed by a tornado last week? Little Rock, Arkansas, I think was the name, right?”
“Yes, that was terrifying, let me tell you. Luckily it was right after Vicky got married, so it didn’t ruin the wedding, but the devastation was extensive. And God bless her, Vicky and I performed an open heart surgery right there on the city street, with nothing more than a scalpel and a turkey baster. It was exhilarating!”
“Oh, my God, Joyce, you were on the street?” Marci had to repeat what she said to believe it. “And you were using a turkey baster?”
Joyce grinned, “Yep, and I’m proud to say that we saved that patient’s life in spite of it.”
“Damn, doc, you got guts, I’ll give you that,” the surgical tech said, as he replenish the soiled swabs with new ones.
Marci looked up at Joyce and asked, “But wait, isn’t she like a CEO or something?”
“Yeah, but she’s also a registered nurse, who I found out is quite adept at surgery. The patient I was referring to, had a weathervane sticking out of his chest. It was the craziest thing I’d ever seen, and probably the most bizarre surgery I’ve ever done.”
Joyce looked down at the patient again and still couldn’t see. She looked up at the others in the room, who stood waiting for her to continue, but her vision was growing darker, until Joyce couldn’t even see the surgical lights. She picked up a surgical towel and rubbed her eyes to clear her vision, but that only added pain to the mixture of fear and confusion.
“Uh…, okay, I don’t want anyone to panic..,” she said as she carefully pulled her hand from the man’s beating heart, “but I need someone to call and get a replacement surgeon up here STAT,” she stated as calmly as she could.
“A replacement surgeon? Why?” the tech asked curiously.
“Just do it, damn it!” Joyce ordered, and the tech grabbed the wall phone. In a softer tone Joyce said, “Marci, I’m going to need you to escort me down to the emergency room please, I seem to have lost my eyesight.” Sounds of gasps and oh no’s filled the room, and Joyce could hear them moving toward her, “Stop! Everyone… please, just stay where you are and take care of the patient.”
Marci, who had been Joyce’s charge nurse for many years, fought back her growing panic and gently took the headlamp off of Joyce’s head, “Can you see anything at all, Joyce?” she asked, waving her hand in front of the surgeon’s bloodshot eyes, but there was no reaction from her pupils.
“No, nothing.” Joyce said apprehensively.
***
Many of the restaurants in the heart of the tornado ravaged city of Little Rock were gone. The city was almost like a ghost town, except for the reconstruction crews who worked non-stop trying to rebuild it, and the people huddled together in makeshift offices in buildings marked fit to occupy. So when Jerry asked Yvonne out to eat, he took her across the river to North Little Rock. The economy was seeing a boon since the tornado. They were enjoying an eclectic meal of oysters on the half shell, when Jerry looked up and suddenly dropped his fork.
“Everything all right, Jerry?”
“Um, Yvonne, is it too soon for you to meet my mother?” Jerry asked cautiously as he picked up his fork again.
“No, not at all. I’d love to meet your mom someday. Why do you ask?”
“Well, because, she just walked in the door.” He nodded towards the front door.
“Holy shit!” Yvonne fought to suppress the panic that was rising in her throat, “But…, but I thought she lived in Baltimore or some faraway place like that?”
“She does. She’s probably here on business or something. I could pretend I didn’t see her if you want?”
That was exactly what Yvonne wanted, but she said instead, “No problem, invite her to join us.”
He nodded and walked over to where his mother stood, talking with the Maître de. “Mom, what on earth are you doing here?”
“Gerald? It’s good to see you too, son. Are you staying at the hotel next door too?”
“No, I’m here with my date. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” He led her over to where Yvonne sat doing some last minute primping.
“Yvonne Rogers, this is my mother, Virginia Williams. Mom, this is my girlfriend, Yvonne.”
Yvonne stood up to greet her.
“Your girlfriend?” She looked Yvonne up and down and said, “She’s a little old for you, isn’t she, Gerald?”
I don’t think I like you already! “Gerald? That’s your name?” Yvonne was bidding for time so she could come up a response to Virginia’s snide remark.
Jerry shook his head and rolled his eyes. Clearly he didn’t care for the name, or perhaps it was the way his mother delighted in saying it.
“Well, I like it. It’s a good strong name, just like you, a good strong man.”
Yvonne’s flattery touched Jerry and annoyed Virginia. She sat down across from her, and Jerry sat beside Yvonne, laying his arm across the back of her chair. He smiled half-heartily at her, and then turned to his mother.
Virginia Williams, owner and Chief Operating Officer of Ginnie’s Gobstoppers, was a worn weary business woman, trying to have it all. When that didn’t work, she concentrated on controlling her adventurous son. Her confectionist candy that sold millions internationally, was invented in Virginia’s kitchen late one night when she sought to sooth her teething son’s cries. The candy was sweet, with just a hint of salt, and it quickly melted in your mouth, which as it turned out, was good for sales because they didn’t last long, which of course meant that the children had to have more.
“So, what brings you to Arkansas, mother?”
“I’ve come to take you home, son. You’ve had enough time to sow your wild oats, and I need you to take over the business soon.”
“Mom, we’ve talked about this. I don’t want to be a business man. Besides, I’m an agent for Homeland Security now. I’m out there catching the bad guys, and I like it.”
“You didn’t tell me! What if you get hurt? What if you’re killed? This is just how you broke the news about joining the Army. After the fact.”
Yvonne felt sorry for the woman, “Oh, my gosh, Jerry, you didn’t tell your mother?”
Virginia’s piercing eyes soften around the edges in appreciation of Yvonne’s support, “No, he did not!”
“And that’s because you would have carried on like you are now, mother.”
“You’re my only child, Gerald. Of course, I’m upset. Wouldn’t you be if you had a stubborn child like I do? Sp
eaking of which, when are you going to give me grandchildren? I’m not going to live forever, you know.” She looked at Yvonne, “Yvonne?”
Yvonne’s mouth dropped open, and her cheeks flushed a bright red.
***
“Where’s my wife!” Ellen came running into the emergency room, demanding to know where Joyce was. The unit coordinator escorted her back to a pod where Joyce was sitting on the exam table. “Joyce? Joyce?”
“Over here, Ellen,” Joyce called out to her.
Although the hospital specialized in heart care, their emergency room was fully equipped for every contingency.
Ellen rushed over to her side and scooped her hand up in hers, “What’s going on? Marci said something about your eyes, that you couldn’t see?”
Joyce had her eyes shut and her hand shading them because the light was too bright. “I don’t know what’s going on, honey. I was fine, and then all of a sudden, everything went dark, like someone put a mask over my eyes. They ran some tests, so I’m waiting on the results.”
“You’re in pain,” Ellen said, more as a declaration of fact than a question. She could see it on Joyce’s face. “Here, let me help you,” she said as she put her hand over Joyce’s eyes.
“Thanks. Listen, it’s going to be all right, baby-doll, don’t you worry.”
The head of the emergency department entered the room, holding Joyce’s chart in his hands. He introduced himself to Ellen as an old friend of Joyce’s. They were at med school together, and Dennis Mack was a trusted colleague. He turned to Joyce and read her test results. “Joyce, your orbit MRI shows an infection in both eyes, causing fluid to build up around the surrounding nerves, and cutting off the flow of blood to your eyes. That’s why you can’t see. Have you been overly sensitive to light, had headaches or pain in the eyes?”
Joyce nodded her head to all of those. “I just thought it was too much stress,” she stated.
“You never mentioned it to me?” Ellen admonished her, and then regretted it.
Remember, It's Our Honeymoon Page 3