Grounded Hearts

by Jeanne M. Dickson

“I’m so sorry, Paul.”

  He toyed with a fountain pen. “You needn’t be. I have my girls. That’s enough.”

  There was a wistfulness in his eyes, and then, as though an actor in a play, his demeanor changed. He straightened his shoulders, and his expression turned serious. “You’ve been quite the active girl.” He opened a file. “Sit.”

  Nan lowered herself to the chair. The scent of turf burning in the fireplace filled the room but failed to take the chill from her bones.

  A shuffling noise came from the hallway. Halpin glanced above the file to the closed door. “Mrs. Norman,” he called. He waited a beat. “Mrs. Norman, I know you’re listening at the door. Would you mind terribly bringing Nan a cup of tea? And a biscuit?”

  Through the closed door, they heard the woman say, “Right away.”

  A last meal before imprisonment, Nan thought. “Why is Mrs. Norman working here?”

  “She’s filling in until things get back to normal. All right, young lady. Let’s sort this out.” Halpin returned his attention to the police file.

  Nan’s throat tightened. She had a police file. She’d never work in this or any other town again. She was ruined. And Dutch was ruined. Both of them, ruined.

  “How did you find us?” she asked.

  “It wasn’t very hard after a petrol-station owner in Cliffside tipped off the Garda. He reported suspicious behavior by a Guinness lorry driver and his wife. Figured it was you and Whitney, heading to the border. After we got the report that someone had run an LDF checkpoint on Cecile Road, we figured you had to be headed to the abbey. It’s the last place to hide before crossing to the north.”

  “You called the Irish Army?”

  “I won’t lie to you. I helped them work this out.”

  Nan slumped against the chair. He was only doing his job, and she knew she shouldn’t feel betrayed, but she did. “The Irish Army officers, they beat Dutch when they took him.”

  Halpin looked surprised. “Why?”

  “He tried to get away. To rescue me, I suppose.”

  “I see. Resisting arrest. Probable cause, then. But that was wrong of them. Unnecessary.” He turned the pages of the file. “Deep-seated hatred for the English comes out sometimes.”

  “He’s Canadian.”

  “He’s RAF. They’ve taken him to Curragh Internment Camp. It’s a military base outside of Dublin.”

  “I know. Will he be charged with any crimes?”

  “We’re cooperating with the RAF, so no. But you will.” He held a steady gaze on her.

  Her mouth went dry. “With what?” Her voice squeaked out the words.

  “Tying up an LDF officer. Stealing a Guinness lorry. Using stolen identification and running a checkpoint. There’s also the matter of the wrecked lorry and the loss of the inventory. Plus, you aided a combatant trooper, which is clearly in violation of the Emergency Act.”

  The blood seemed to drain from her head as he read out the charges. “That’s a long list.”

  She would be going away for quite a while.

  He sat back, folded his arms over his chest. “There’s also a charge of false imprisonment.”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you and Whitney hold Tuda and Margaret at gunpoint? Make them help you do all these things? Isn’t that true?”

  Her gaze shifted. Talk about backfiring, but if she didn’t admit to the charge, Halpin might arrest her friends. She was going to jail, but she didn’t want to drag her friends along with her. “Yes. We held them at gunpoint, made them help us escape.”

  “Right. Have you anything to add?”

  Nan squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. “Dutch is on the right side of this conflict.”

  “I suspect he is, but that doesn’t change anything, and it’s no defense. Speaking of which, I highly recommend you engage a solicitor.” He leaned over the paperwork and wrote something. The sound of his pen scratching on the paper grated in her ears.

  A ruckus came from outside the office. The door swung open, and Mrs. Norman stepped in. “I’m sorry, Officer Halpin. I couldn’t stop them.”

  A dozen or so women crowded into the room, pressing forward, filling every space. An acidic smell of tomatoes lingered in the air. Nan knew them all, had attended to their female needs, and her spirits lifted at the sight of them.

  Mrs. Kennedy, dressed in a black wool coat, her face splashed with a crimson glow, carried her infant son and placed him in Nan’s arms. “The seventh son of a seventh son. He’ll bring ya luck.”

  “I could use that.” She looked down at the bundled-up infant, and he smiled at her. “Hello, little Thomas.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Halpin demanded.

  Tuda and Margaret pushed to the front of the crowd. With hands on her hips, Tuda said, “We are here to ask the same question. What’s all this? What do you think you’re doing to our Nan?”

  Halpin dropped his pen on the open file. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m arresting Nan on a multitude of charges.”

  “Are you? Such as?”

  “Tying up an LDF officer for one.”

  Margaret huffed as she pounded her forefinger on the Garda’s desk. “That was self-defense. I saw it all, every bit of it. Finn attacked Nan.”

  Grumbles and shocked intakes of breath rose from the crowd, along with murmurs of “Blaggard . . . disgraceful . . . the lard-arse . . .”

  “Ah, ya poor dear,” Mrs. Kennedy said. The baby’s tiny hand squeezed Nan’s finger as though in solidarity with the ladies.

  Margaret pounded her fist on the desk and leaned forward. “What was she going to do? Just let Finn have his way with her? The big lard-arse had been harassing her for weeks. You should have put a stop to it long ago, ’cause you knew about it, didn’t ya?”

  Halpin pulled his collar. “Nan indicated she had the situation under control.”

  “That animal? Ya should have protected her. All of us.”

  The crowd shouted out their agreement.

  Tuda crossed her arms and glared down at Halpin. “Nan should sue you and the LDF.”

  Nan shook her head, acknowledging that she’d underestimated Finn’s vile temperament. “No. I want no part of that. What Paul said is true. Finn’s gone now, and let that be the last of him.” She repositioned the baby against her shoulder.

  Halpin cleared his throat. “Is that so, Nan? Did Finn attack you? And then you acted in self-defense?”

  “Yes, it’s true. I did. And if Dutch hadn’t come to my aid, I shudder to think what would have happened.” She felt Margaret’s hot hand on her shoulder. The crowd mumbled sympathetic words of encouragement. Turning to them, she nodded in gratitude.

  Halpin looked Nan up and down. “Considering we now have an eyewitness to the altercation at your home, and you and Dutch acted in self-defense, we’ll let that one go.”

  “Thank you.” Nan began to rise.

  “Not so fast.” Halpin signaled with his hand to sit. “There are other charges. You stole a lorry.”

  “Wait one second, there.” Holding Brian’s hand to drag him along, Mrs. Odin weaved through the crowd.

  “’Tis himself, lover boy,” a woman said with a smirk. A chorus of kissing noises turned Brian’s face red.

  Mrs. Odin nudged Brian forward until his legs were against the desk. “Go on. Tell the Garda.”

  The muscles in Brian’s face tightened. “No.”

  “Tell him.” Her voice was as sharp as the poke she gave his back.

  “Ouch. No. I’ll lose my job,” Brian hissed through clenched teeth.

  “And I’ll close my pub forever. The men in town will tar and feather ya.” She moved closer to him and whispered into his ear. “You’ll never, never taste my . . . blood sausage . . . again.” She licked her upper lip and arched an eyebrow.

  Brian trembled and let out a sigh. “Fine.” He squared his shoulders, looked at Halpin, and said, “I let them borrow the lorry.”

  Applause broke
out in the room.

  Halpin’s lips narrowed to a slash. “Did you? Really?”

  When Brian hesitated, Mrs. Odin kicked his ankle.

  Brian slanted a look at Mrs. Odin. “I did.”

  “You’ll have to drop that charge, too, won’t you?” Nan tried hard not to smile. The baby against her shoulder seemed to giggle, but of course that was impossible for such a wee babe, even the seventh son of a seventh son.

  “Ah for the love of God,” Halpin said, scribbling something in the file. “Since the Guinness driver won’t or can’t seem to bring himself to admit you stole his lorry, I have no choice, but there’s still a charge of you running the LDF checkpoint.”

  Nan knew she was guilty. “I, ah . . .”

  “Stop. Not another word, Nan. Out of my way, let me through.”

  Nan turned toward the voice to see Siobhan emerge from the crowd. The teenager’s freckled face was pink, and she held her hands in fists at her waist. “Nan, I’m not a solicitor yet, but I’ve worked for my da long enough to know when the Garda is out of line and treading a position that’s tenuous at best. And he’s trying to weasel a confession out of ya. Will you let me represent you?”

  “Yes. Please.” New hope rose in Nan.

  Siobhan rose to her full diminutive height. She turned her focus on Sergeant Halpin. “What are the charges you’re thinking of pinning on my innocent client?”

  “I’m not thinking about it. I’m doing it. She ran a checkpoint with the stolen . . . borrowed lorry.”

  “Did she? Alone? Was she driving the said lorry?”

  “Yes. No. She and her companion.”

  “I see,” Siobhan said. “Nan, were you driving said vehicle?”

  “I was not.”

  “So you were merely an innocent passenger, with no say in what your companion’s actions might be?”

  Nan felt a grin. “Yes. Exactly.”

  With palm open to the sergeant, Siobhan said, “I don’t see how you can hold my client accountable for that action, do you?”

  The crowd’s voices rose in agreement.

  Halpin’s eyes narrowed. “What about the false identity papers? Well, Nan?”

  “What false identity papers? I never presented any such article.” Which was true. Only Dutch had.

  “I read it right here. In the report.” Halpin shuffled through the report. He let out a deep breath. “Fine. Nothing in the report about you exactly having—”

  “Then you can hardly charge her for something her companion allegedly did, can ya?” Siobhan placed her hand on Nan’s shoulder. “Well then, she’s free to go, isn’t she?”

  “Not so fast. There’s the matter of the damages to the Guinness lorry and the loss of their inventory. If you can’t pay the damages, I’ve no choice but to lock you up.”

  “Wait, I have something for ya. Let me through, let me through.” The crowd parted, and Mrs. Norman arrived at the edge of the desk with an envelope. “Here’s an anonymous payment for the wrecked lorry and the lost inventory, from Dr. Mann. Oops.” She covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Give it over, Mrs. Norman.” Halpin opened the envelope, counted the money. He slapped the envelope onto his desk.

  “Have ya anything else? Are we through here?” Siobhan asked.

  Halpin stared at Nan for a moment. “No. You aided a belligerent. That is a violation against the Emergency Act.”

  Nan’s heart beat so hard, she was sure everyone in the room, all her dear friends, could see her rib cage move. The baby began to wail.

  “Are you mad?” Tuda asked. “She’s a nurse. It’s her moral obligation to help the wounded. She couldn’t send the poor lad away.”

  Halpin leaned an elbow on his desk and, over the baby’s crying, said, “She should have turned him in. It’s the law.”

  “And let him die? Isn’t she responsible for saving your wife?” Tuda turned to the crowd, and over the increasing sound of the baby’s wailing, she shouted, “Who here has been helped by Nurse Nan?”

  A wave of hands went up. The baby screamed louder and louder.

  “Oh, all right. I give up.” Halpin closed the file and scribbled something across the front. “After closer examination of the evidence, this case is closed. You’re free to go. And get that screaming baby out of my office.”

  “I’m free to go?”

  “There’s the door. All of you out.”

  The crowd erupted into applause. Mrs. Kennedy took the baby from Nan’s arms. “I told you he’d bring ya luck.”

  “Come on, everyone,” Mrs. Odin said. “Time to open the pub. First round on Brian.”

  “What?” he asked.

  The sound of shoes trundling out of the room mixed with laughter.

  After exchanging hugs with Tuda, Margaret, Mrs. Norman, and Siobhan, Nan lingered behind. “What about Dutch?”

  Sergeant Halpin shook his head as he dropped the file into a drawer. “I’m sorry. That’s completely out of my control. One more thing, Nan.”

  She stepped back. “Should I call Siobhan?”

  “No. We want you to be Maeve’s godmother.”

  Nan pressed a hand over her heart. “Of course, I’d be honored.”

  “Go join your friends.” He picked up the ringing phone. “Officer Halpin.” He glanced at Nan.

  She smiled and nodded to him before leaving the room. Dutch might have complained about the Irish, how they didn’t see things as cut-and-dried, but didn’t that just work in her favor?

  Within moments, the relief she felt at being freed began to dissipate, and she allowed herself to feel the deep longing for the man she loved. When would she see him again? Hold him in her arms? Her heart hurt at the thought that she might never look into his eyes again. The way the Irish Army had treated him, she feared for his life.

  Outside the office, Mrs. Norman was dusting a picture of de Valera that didn’t need dusting.

  “Ah, there ya are. I knew none of them charges would stick. Going down to the pub to celebrate?”

  Nan looked at the clock. She still had time. “Going to confession.”

  “Aren’t you the good Catholic girl.”

  “If I were, I wouldn’t be going to confession.”

  Mrs. Norman looked both ways before she spoke. “Spending the night in the arms of the man you love is worth the penance.”

  “Maybe. After confession, I’m going home to feed my cat. He must be starving. And take a bath.” Somehow, she’d sort out her life and get it back together. Find a new normal. Wait for the war to be over. Then she and Dutch could get married. Tonight, she’d find comfort in a cup of tea and a cuddle with Mr. Dee.

  “Ah, your cat. I’m sorry about your cat.”

  Her arms fell to her side. “When did he die? Where is he buried?”

  “He’s not dead a’tall, but he’s not yours anymore, either. Margaret has him. Seems he’s taken a liking to the hearth in the shop. Prances around like he owns the place. Oh, that’s the kettle whistling for the sergeant’s tea. Gotta go.”

  So the cat had abandoned her. Her cottage would be a cold, empty mess when she returned.

  As Nan stepped out into the misty afternoon, Tuda approached her with open arms. “There’s herself. You’re free. We’re all free. Especially free from that blaggard Finn.”

  “And I’m free from Teddy, too. Dutch helped me through.”

  “Finally. I’m so glad.” Tuda pulled her close, and the warmth of the embrace sent tears to threaten Nan’s composure. “Ah, look at yaself, crying.”

  With an arm around her friend’s shoulder, Tuda guided Nan to a bench outside the Garda station.

  “I never set out to fall for a flyboy, to break the law, to have my heart torn in two.”

  “That’s life, Nan. Surely you know that. Would you prefer to be safe in your little house, not having had the adventure of your lifetime?”

  “And still churning over Teddy? No.”

  “You have Dutch to look forward to.”

  Na
n thought about Dutch. His smile. His dazzling eyes. His touch. Their kisses. The memories would always warm her. “Why does it have to hurt so much?”

  “Because there’s no heaven on earth. Now dry your eyes. Your journey is far from over. In time, the war, like all wars, will end. You’ll see your flyboy again. At least he won’t be up in the air, being shot at by the Nazis.”

  “He’s a trapped bird. I hope his heart won’t die.” Nan wiped the hankie under her nose. “Maybe he’ll forget me.”

  “Forget you? Not a chance. The way he looked at you? Come on, let’s go down to the pub.”

  “No. I’m going to confession. One last thing I have to do. But will you take Mrs. Odin aside and thank her for me?”

  “Of course I will.”

  Nan adjusted her jacket and squared her shoulders. “I’ll walk with you. Oh dear. I need a hat or a scarf for my head.” She patted her pockets, wondering what had happened to her beret. “Do you have a scarf I can borrow?”

  Tuda reached around her neck, tugged off a brown scarf, and handed it to Nan. “Father Albert is in a beastly mood. Seems someone slipped a rhythm-method pamphlet under his door.”

  “Now, who would do a thing like that?”

  “Someone bold. And I applaud her, too.”

  Nan wondered if Tuda might have been the person. Or maybe the doctor. The doctor. She owed the doctor so much.

  The clouds parted as she and Tuda walked down the hill toward the village. Life is a series of contradictions, Nan thought, tucking her cold hands into her pockets. Mr. Carlow gone, Maeve Halpin born. Nan free, Dutch interned.

  “I have to tell you about your house,” Tuda said, stopping in front of the pub. Fiddle music came from inside, along with loud singing and laughing.

  “Yes. I know. The Tinkers helped themselves to my things.”

  “Did they ever. We tried to clean up the mess, but I’ll warn you, it’s still in shambles.”

  “Just like my life. How appropriate.”

  “Why don’t you stay with me tonight?”

  “Thanks. No. I prefer to be alone.” Lick her wounds in private. “See you, Tuda.” She hugged her friend, then set off for the confession booth.

  Nan tied on the scarf before she walked into the church. It was nearly vacant, and a sliver of light lit the stained-glass window where the Virgin Mary held the Infant Jesus. Rows of offertory candles sent a reddish hue over the Virgin’s white dress.