Grounded Hearts

by Jeanne M. Dickson

  He froze, panic on his face.

  Mama’s boy.

  “What’s doing out here? I thought I heard someone rumbling about the place.” Tuda walked from the garage onto the courtyard, wiping her hands on a rag.

  “Hello, Tuda.” Nan waved, hurrying toward her. “How’s my car coming along?”

  “Just grand.”

  “He’s been drinking,” Nan whispered.

  “I can tell.”

  “Mrs. Quinn,” he said, “I’ve been looking for you. My car won’t start again.”

  “What a shame. Bring it back into the shop.”

  “I did. Left it with your husband. This is the third time in two months. Why can’t you fix the blasted thing? This is what happens when a woman tries to do a man’s job.”

  Tuda widened her stance and glared at him. “Ah, cars are complicated things altogether. Maybe, Officer Finn, you ought to take your vehicle to Limerick from now on.”

  “Maybe I should. Tell me, Mrs. Quinn, what brings ya here?”

  “Fixing Nan’s car so she can speed along in comfort this winter.”

  “I’ll let ya use my car.” Finn slurred his words. “Anytime ya want. Say the word.”

  “Thanks, Officer Finn, but I understand ya car’s not working. Did you find anything suspicious round my house?”

  “Not a thing out of order. I’ve checked the perimeters, and all is clear.”

  “Could have told you that,” Tuda said.

  “How could you tell me that, Mrs. Quinn? You not being here?”

  “Not here? Am I a ghost or something?”

  “I mean with your head under the bonnet. And where is your ne’er-do-well husband? Why aren’t you with him like a good wife should be? I heard he drove the van into a ditch after taking too much drink. Again.”

  Tuda straightened her shoulders. “If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. I can smell liquor on ya from here.”

  Finn fingered his gun. “You’d be an expert at that, wouldn’t you?”

  Nan could tell her friend was about to deliver a rash of fury on Finn, who, goodness knows, deserved it. But she squeezed Tuda’s elbow.

  “I don’t want any trouble. Leave him be.”

  Tuda sucked in a breath. “Finn, are you done here?”

  “You’ll address me as ‘Officer Finn’ when I’m wearing the uniform. I’ll be around again to make sure Nan’s safe.”

  “Please, don’t bother,” Nan said.

  “No bother a’tall.” He spun on his heel and made his way to the bike leaning against the gate. Nan couldn’t be certain, but she thought the cat might have left his calling card on the wheel.

  “Get away, cat.” He kicked toward Mr. Dee, lost his balance, and hopped sideways into the gate. Then he righted himself and grabbed his handlebars.

  Love that cat.

  Finn winked at Nan, then pedaled away.

  Tuda shook her head. “You poor creature. You’ve really got a problem with that one, don’t you? Maybe what Dutch warned you about is true.”

  “Finn is about as dangerous as dandruff on my shoulders. Annoying, unsightly, and gone with one brush of the hand. Where is Dutch?”

  “He’s buried in dirty hay in the garage. I’m glad he isn’t allergic, or he’d have sneezed his way into captivity.”

  “We better rescue him.” Nan walked over to the calf house.

  “You’re getting good at that.” Tuda glanced around the yard. “Why don’t you have a dog? It would give you a bit of a warning. You could train the dog to bite Finn’s thick arse.”

  Nan’s heart tightened. “Ah, after old Hamme went to heaven—I don’t care what Sister Katherine claimed, I believe pets go to heaven—I haven’t had the heart to replace him.”

  “Sounds a lot like how you feel about Teddy.”

  Nan’s hand went to her throat. That hurt. Deeply. But she wouldn’t show it. She stared at Tuda. “How could you say such a thing?”

  “Ah now, Nan, darling,” Tuda said. “I’m sorry. Paddy tells me my mouth is big enough to swallow the Irish Sea.”

  “How does one replace the irreplaceable?” Nan blurted.

  “You could put his memory to rest and move on.”

  “Maybe someday, but right now I can’t afford another heartbreak.”

  “How is it living if you don’t reach out to love? Even Mrs. Odin has found herself a fellow.”

  Nan decided it was better to ignore the subject. “Where did you say Dutch is?”

  She followed Tuda into the garage. The car’s bonnet was open as though it were in the middle of a surgery.

  “Dutch,” Nan called. “Coast is clear.”

  Tuda’s tongue pushed out her cheek. “Yeah, come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  “Very funny,” his muffled voice replied.

  The pile of hay in the corner of the building came to life. Dutch was covered in straw. He coughed, sneezed, then coughed again. “Awful stinky stuff.”

  “Fast thinking, Tuda.”

  Tuda lifted her chin in Dutch’s direction. “It was himself. First thing he did this morning was break up a bale of hay in case he might need a hiding place.”

  He stood there, brushing himself clean. A sigh caught in Nan’s throat when he ran his hand through his thick head of hair to comb away the debris.

  “Turn around,” Tuda said, pushing Nan forward. “Nan will brush off your back.”

  Nan picked straw from between his shoulder blades, then plucked at the hay on his calves.

  “Get the stuff across his shoulders, so.” Tuda kicked the straw back into a mound, ready again if necessary.

  Nan’s palm smoothed across Dutch’s broad shoulders, the muscles tight beneath her touch. The light from the window sent shadows to caress his cheeks.

  Tuda muttered out of the corner of her mouth, barely loud enough for Nan to hear, “He’d be worth the risk of breaking that heart of yours.”

  “Shhhh.”

  “I had a feeling Finn might return. He has a nose for things not being quite right here,” Dutch said as Nan’s hand traveled along his back. With a slow turn, he faced her. “Thanks.”

  “Welcome.” Nan focused on her muddy boots. “How’s the car coming along?”

  “Good.” He picked a piece of straw from her hair, and his touch sent tingles up her back. “Tuda here is pretty good for a girl.”

  “I’ll arm-wrestle you later if you want.”

  “No kidding, I’m grateful to you both.”

  “Okay, flyboy,” Tuda said. “Don’t get sappy on us. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Did you get the Ford started?” Nan asked.

  If so, maybe he’d leave tonight. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

  “Nope. There are a couple of items we still need. Right, Tuda?”

  “Yes. If the parts don’t come in, I’m going to borrow them from Finn’s car. You’ll be off by tomorrow night.”

  “Yes.” He had been looking at Nan but now turned his attention to the cat. “Hey, Mr. Dee. Where’d you go?”

  Ignoring Nan, the cat bounded toward Dutch.

  “That cat’s in love with ya,” Tuda said, grinning.

  Dutch smiled. “The cat and I have an understanding. Mr. Dee is doing his part for the war effort, too.”

  “I’ll say. He piddled on Finn’s tire wheel,” Nan said.

  “Good kitty.” Dutch laughed. “I wish I could take you back to England with me. You could be the airfield’s mascot.”

  His smile sank Nan’s stomach to the floor.

  But she hung around for a moment, watching Dutch tinker with the car and also taking in the muscles in his arms, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves.

  “Are you here to help?” Tuda asked.

  “Me? Ha. You two have things to do. I’ll make the tea. Mrs. Norman has sent along her famous chicken soup. Tuda, will you stay?”

  “Thanks, but I better go home to my Paddy. No telling what he might get into. Besides,” she paused, settling her
gaze on Nan. “I wouldn’t dream of intruding on your last night together.”

  CHAPTER 18

  After a bowl of Mrs. Norman’s delicious chicken soup, served with bread, Nan settled Dutch into the chair close to the fireplace. The cat lay over the man’s feet in perfect comfort, in a way that spoke of ownership—the cat owned Dutch, of course.

  “Shall I read aloud?” He held a book of Yeats’s poetry.

  “Please,” she said. He looked so comfortable in the big chair, the cat at his feet. And so handsome.

  He began to read, and listening to him nearly broke Nan’s heart. The words were sublime, but it was his voice that sent shivers through her. Gentle. Articulate.

  “Wonderful, don’t you think?” he asked, looking up at her.

  “Oh yes. Read another.”

  He flipped through the book until he landed on another poem. The words registered in the musical part of her brain, but it was the fact of Dutch sitting there just as Teddy used to, reading poetry to her out loud, that made her heart race.

  He finished and closed the book. “I’d forgotten how beautiful Yeats’s poetry is.”

  “Yes. You’ve read him before? Certainly sounds like you know your way around a poem.”

  “I was a literature major before I switched to engineering.”

  “No future in poetry?”

  “Not if I want to eat.”

  “That’s not true. My husband . . . did you see that Yeats signed the book?”

  Dutch’s eyes widened. “Really?” He flipped to the front pages and smiled as his finger traced the signature. “Did you meet Yeats?”

  “No, not me. My husband did. He and his family were part of the Dublin arts and intellectual crowd, the literary bunch. His mother was an actress. A Dublin player.”

  “And you? You ever acted? You’re certainly pretty enough to be an actress.”

  “Go on with ya.”

  He placed the book on the side table. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

  “Then you haven’t met many girls.”

  “Stop underestimating yourself. You’re beautiful, brave, and smart. And not just on the surface. You’re beautiful inside.”

  Nan focused on the fire, her cheeks blossoming with heat. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re not so bad yourself. I bet the girls line up back in England.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not really good at that sort of thing.”

  “What sort of thing?”

  “Chasing skirts. My RAF pals have a saying, ‘You get your wings, you get the birds,’ but I don’t go in for that. I mean, what’s the point if you don’t love the girl? It doesn’t sit right with me. I have to care.”

  What’s not to love about this man? “Your buddies must think you’re odd.”

  “I don’t care what they think.”

  She crossed her legs and saw him glance at the underside of her thigh, despite the fact that she was wearing trousers.

  He set his attention back on her eyes. “Where did you meet Teddy?”

  “Dublin. When I was in nursing school. He taught literature and English at the University of Dublin.”

  Even now she could visualize Teddy, stunning in his black robes, white chalk dust drifting down his sleeves. All the girls were after him. To this day she wasn’t sure why he’d chosen her. Her mood darkened as she remembered more: The day he began to blame her for all his troubles. Her fault they were in this cottage. Her fault he couldn’t write. Her fault he’d drink himself to sleep every night.

  Her fault he no longer wanted to touch her.

  She forced herself to go on. “We met at a tea shop. He invited me to his lectures. I used to sit in the back of the auditorium and watch him. He had a brilliant mind.” A mind that betrayed him later.

  “What happened to him?” Dutch asked.

  “I told you. Terrible accident. He fell off the cliff. Bashed his head on a rock below. Washed up like that poor RAF pilot.”

  He waited for her to continue, but she was lost in her memories. In that chair beside the fireplace Teddy would sit, slapping his head, crying that the voices wouldn’t leave him be.

  He refused to see a doctor, telling her to get away, as though she was some annoying pet. She had felt as if her heart would split open.

  “Must have been terrible for you, Nan.”

  She lifted a hand, waved it. “Such is life.”

  “And death. No man since then?”

  “No.” A void that deep couldn’t be filled.

  “Why?”

  She wanted to say “none of your business,” but instead she shrugged. “You’ve seen the local talent. Why haven’t you dated anyone since your engagement?”

  He shrugged. “The war.”

  They sat without speaking for a few minutes. Death and her love life were not topics she wished to expound on. Apparently, Dutch didn’t, either.

  “The map the doctor gave you, was it a’tall helpful?”

  “Immensely. I have a question for you, though.” He stood up, displacing Mr. Dee. “Can you fill me in on one area? It looks like it could be a shortcut, but the route goes around it. Maybe it’s bog land?”

  “Let me see.” She stood as well and followed him to the table.

  He pulled the map out of the envelope and spread it open on the table. “Here, this area. Bog? Or lake?”

  Her shoulder pressed against his arm as she leaned over to study the map. “Ah, I dunno. I’ve never ventured down that way. But this road, the one the doctor has mapped, I know is fine.” She pointed along a black line that snaked around a lake. “There’s the abbey. Last stop before freedom.”

  His hand covered her fingers. “Here?” His voice looped around her chest as his palm covered hers.

  He lifted her hand to his lips. Nearly caused her knees to buckle.

  He’s going to kiss me.

  She closed her eyes and slid her hand up to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his strong body.

  Soft lips touched her forehead, then the sides of her mouth, finally her lips.

  Her body seemed to turn to liquid. She melted into him. The kiss deepened, making her feel as if they were swirling around the room.

  Bells were going off, like the chimes of heaven.

  Bells.

  Like . . . a bicycle bell!

  The dream broken, she pushed away from him. “Dutch. No. Someone’s coming.”

  He turned toward the sound. “Again?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think someone has the worst timing in the world.”

  Or maybe the best. “Go.” Nan’s lips were aflame, her body shimmering. She hoped whoever was at the door couldn’t tell.

  Dutch walked to the bedroom, tripped on his own feet, then stopped. “Nan, I—”

  “Please, just go.”

  He disappeared into the bedroom, and she heard the pop of the hiding-room door opening.

  She parted the curtain to peek and felt a stab of panic.

  Officer Halpin.

  She folded the map, dropped it into the box, then kicked it under the table. She threw the front door open. “Officer Halpin. What brings you here so late?”

  Deep lines creased his cheeks, and there were bags under his eyes. “I’ve come to fetch you. Kelly is having a hard time.”

  “What’s wanting?”

  He looked uneasy with the question. “Ah, well, ya see . . .”

  “There’s no shame in talking about what’s going on with your wife’s body.”

  “She’s bleeding something fierce.”

  Nan sucked in a sharp breath. “Did you call Dr. Mann?”

  “Can’t find her. Besides, Kelly wants you.”

  Nan wished Paul had found the doctor, but she was getting ahead of herself. Maybe it was nothing. Nothing much. Something Nan could handle.

  Please, Lord. Nothing a’tall.

  “Who’s with Kelly and the baby now?”

  “Mrs. Norman.”

>   “Then they’re in good hands.” She frowned, remembering the bicycle bell. “Why didn’t you drive your car?”

  “No petrol. I went by the garage earlier, but Paddy Quinn was out.”

  Out cold, no doubt. “Didn’t Tuda come to the door?”

  “She did, but Quinn is out of petrol altogether. Seems the Irish Army filled their tanks today. There won’t be another shipment for a long time.”

  Where would they get fuel for the escape? she wondered. Tuda probably had some scheme. She would take care of getting whatever they needed. Tuda had better.

  “Ah, this war,” Nan said. “Wait one minute. I’ll get my things.”

  “Where’s your bike?”

  “In the garage.” Nan pointed across the courtyard.

  “I’ll get it while you put your coat on. We’ll travel together over the dark lanes.”

  Her heart broke for the sergeant. There was no worse hurt than that for a loved one in trouble. “I’ll be out in one second.”

  Her pulse was pounding. She sprinted to the bedroom, grabbed her coat, and placed her hands against the closet wall. Her fingernails scraped the wood. “I’ve an emergency. Kelly’s in need. Wait a few minutes; then you can come out.”

  “Okay,” she heard his muffled voice respond. “Will you be back tonight?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I hope so.” For everyone’s sake.

  With that, she snatched her medical bag and raced to her bicycle.

  The storm had moved on, leaving the cold air slapping against her cheeks. There were so many things to pray for as she traveled, she could hardly get them all in.

  First, Kelly.

  Next, Dutch.

  Last, she prayed for her immortal soul—all the lies she’d been telling, and that kiss. Her thoughts spiraled to the sensation of Dutch’s lips upon hers.

  No, don’t, she told herself, yet inside she was screaming, Yes. It was no mistake that he’d come to her door; the good Lord had led him there.

  Not for you to kiss him, you eejit. To heal.

  Her bike dipped into a rut, throwing her off balance. She struggled for equilibrium, gripping the handlebars so hard, she was sure she’d bruised her palms.

  Ahead of her, Halpin looked back and called, “Are you all right, Nan?”

  “Dandy.”