Grounded Hearts Page 6

  The sergeant nodded and exited the shop with straight shoulders and perfect posture. She didn’t notice Thomas Carlow until the old man stepped in front of her.

  “Here, darling.” He shoved two fat potatoes into her basket. “Here’s a little something to give ya lots of strength for the journey.”

  “Thanks, Thomas.”

  If only he knew the journey she was on, and the weakness, the pure uncertainty, that plagued her heart and weighed down her soul, he’d probably give her a few more spuds.

  CHAPTER 5

  Perched on the edge of town, Ballyhaven’s Garda station mounted the cliffs like a fortress of Irish justice. A two-story residence was attached to the left side of the low building, where Paul and Kelly Halpin lived.

  Nan opened the gate that led to the backyard. The sun broke through the clouds for a brief moment to wash the residence in sparkling light. Daffodils in flower boxes outside the windows seemed to lift their heads to the sun. The lace curtains that hung inside gleamed as white as a girl’s first-communion dress. The embellishments were Kelly Halpin’s influence. Seemed she could do anything with a bit of this or that. Then clouds consumed the sun again, shrouding everything back into dullness.

  There wasn’t much cause to use the jail, but certain town drinkers, Thomas Carlow in particular, were well acquainted with the facilities. Many nights, Thomas would be found passed out in his cart, the horse circling the Celtic cross in the town square. Paul Halpin would wake up Thomas, take him to the station, and give him a bed to sleep it off.

  Kelly told Nan that after a night in lockup, Carlow would stroll into her kitchen, hat in hand. “Me home away from home, clean and warm. Any chance you might pour me a cup of tea and feed me a bit of your famous bread?”

  Nan hoped she wouldn’t wind up in the cell next to Thomas some night. She buttoned down her nerves as she strolled over the brick sidewalk, around to the backyard. Her medical bag’s contents tinkled with each stride.

  A lame Irish wolfhound padded toward her, tongue hanging out the side of his pink mouth.

  “Hello, Lugus. How’s yaself?” Nan patted the dog’s huge head. His breath stank like an ancient tomb. “How ya keeping?”

  Lugus nuzzled Nan’s palm, then started sniffing her with so much force, she rocked back on her heels. Did the hound whiff Dutch? Good thing the Lord hadn’t granted dogs the gift of language.

  “Ah, ya after my cat, Mr. Dee, aren’t ya?” she said for the benefit of anyone within earshot. After a slurping lick of her hand, Lugus hobbled away, back to his spot on an old mattress inside a doghouse.

  “Ah, there you are, Nan.” Kelly Halpin waved from the far end of the yard, where she stood knee high in cabbages. She wore Wellies and a heavy knit sweater, and she held a bunch of carrots she’d just grabbed from the soil. Her blonde hair was French braided and tied with a pink ribbon. Unlike some expecting mums, Kelly looked lovely in her natural state, her middle budding with new life.

  When Paul Halpin’s first wife died four years ago, no one in the village had a dry eye. His wife had passed one fall morning when the wind had whistled down the chimney like a banshee. Rain had hit the earth so hard that day, it had ripped the leaves off Nan’s apple trees and tossed the remaining fruit around like miniature bombs.

  Heart attack, the doctor had declared. For months, Paul had moped around the town in a state of grief, heartbroken over the loss of his wife, yet he never let his emotions interfere with his work.

  After Teddy was laid to rest, some thought she and Paul would make a fine couple. He was attractive, intelligent, educated, and a good sort of person. Nan refused to even consider a man who carried a gun for a living.

  But God was good and merciful. The village women’s prayers for Paul were answered when young Kelly Maloney arrived for a visit with her cousins two summers ago. On her way into town, the twenty-year-old had blown out her bicycle tire and found herself tumbling into a ditch. Paul happened to see the accident and helped her out of the gully.

  “’Twas love at first sight,” Kelly later declared.

  The following Christmas, no one was happier than Nan to see the couple wed. She liked Kelly straightaway and considered her God’s new match for Paul. No matter the circumstances, if Nan needed her, Kelly was one of those few friends who would be there. Not that Nan planned to involve Kelly in the Dutch situation.

  Nan walked along the brick path. “How are you?” she asked Kelly. “Not overdoing work in your lovely garden? You know what we discussed.”

  “Oh, go on with ya. I’m fit and ready to pull carrots all day.” Kelly dropped the vegetables into a basket at her feet. “I’ll be in directly. Go meet the lads.”

  To the sound of laughter and conversation, Nan climbed the stairs to the back door that led into the kitchen. Her medical bag banged into her thigh as she swung open the door. Four young men in RAF uniforms, along with numerous village girls, crowded around a long kitchen table. Nan’s throat tightened. Dutch was right. They were only kids. Is this what the Allies were fighting the Nazis with? Children? They looked no older than twenty. Then again, the bored LDF soldier standing in the corner with a cup of tea didn’t appear to be much older himself.

  Several teenage girls surrounded the crewmen, sitting next to them or standing behind them. All were batting their eyelids and giggling with admiring gazes.

  “Good day to you. Ah, you must be the RAF crew,” Nan said.

  “And who else would they be?” A sassy girl of fourteen, with chubby cheeks and legs to match, drew on a cigarette and sent the smoke toward the ceiling. Her girlfriends laughed.

  The future mothers of Ireland. Heaven save them. Saints preserve them. “I’m Nurse Nan O’Neil,” she said to the boys. Men, she corrected herself. “I’m to examine you.”

  The crewmen rose. The tallest of them attempted a smile with his bruised lips. He straightened, squeezed his eyes shut, and dropped the smile for a second. Then, in that “What, what?” stiff-upper-lip way of the English, he smiled, showing twisted front teeth. “We’re all fine, miss.”

  “I’m so glad, but Sergeant Halpin insists I examine you. Please, sit. Finish your tea first. And conversation.”

  They returned to their chairs, and the girls continued their banter.

  “Hey ya, Nurse O’Neil,” Siobhan called over the sizzling of frying breakfast meat. A thick-waisted girl with freckles covering her face, Siobhan was the daughter of the town’s solicitor. She’d set her heart on studies in London. The plans, like so many others, were on hold for the duration of the war.

  The Halpins employed Siobhan as their housekeeper, and Kelly claimed she couldn’t function without the girl’s help.

  Nan placed her bag on the floor and stepped to the cooker, where Siobhan was flipping pieces of blood pudding. “Siobhan, how are you? What are you up to?”

  “We’re giving our heroes a proper Irish fry before they’re off to internment camp.” In another pan, she poked tomatoes with a fork. They, too, sizzled in the cooking grease.

  “Where on earth did you get tomatoes at this time of year?”

  “They’re from the Harrisons’ hothouse.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “A consolation prize, I think. Lord Harry found the bomber boys in the stables last night. He gave them a grand meal and then called the Garda. The boys spent the night in jail. He brought the tomatoes when he came to check on them this morning.”

  “Nice of him, I suppose.”

  “Would you fancy one?”

  “Of the boys? Of course not.” It made her think of Dutch lying in her bed. She couldn’t shake the vision of him in the too-small nightshirt.

  Siobhan laughed. “Don’t be daft. I mean a tomato.”

  “Ah, no thanks.” Food, in any form right now, would be impossible to keep down.

  She glanced at the lads. Why hadn’t Lord Harry helped them to escape, the way she was helping Dutch? Too many in number, perhaps. Or too smart to take such a chance with Finn nosing into
everyone’s business.

  Kelly strolled into the kitchen with a basket of root vegetables. “Get out of the way, girls. And give the airmen some breathing room.”

  The crowd of girls parted to let Kelly reach the counter. She placed the basket in the sink, then rubbed the small of her back.

  Nan joined her. “Does your back hurt? Didn’t I tell you to be careful? The muscles and joints aren’t stable when you’re so far along.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m grand.” Her green eyes sparkled, and a smile dimpled her cheeks. She tied an apron around her swollen waist. “Ah, Nan. Have you met our guests?”

  “Guests?” one of the airmen asked in a spiteful tone.

  The room went silent.

  “That’s right, Pilot Officer Ryan. As my husband explained, you’ll be guests of the State of Ireland for the duration of the war. I’m terribly sorry you’re all so disappointed.”

  The young men grumbled.

  Kelly turned on the tap, and water gushed into the sink, splashing the windows that looked out over the garden. She glanced at Nan. In a low voice for Nan’s ears only, she said, “Why do these boys so itch to get back into the fight?”

  “Because they’re warriors,” Nan replied. “And men.”

  “I think it’s because they’re eejits who enjoy playing with their big-boy toys.”

  “That’s an interesting comment coming from the Garda’s wife.”

  Kelly winked. “Isn’t it, though? Let me introduce you to the boys.”

  “Men.”

  “If you say so, but they look barely old enough to be out of knee pants.”

  She introduced Dutch’s crew one by one. Each gave a polite nod. How Nan wished she could tell them their flight officer was alive, recuperating, and—if all went according to a plan yet to be hatched—rejoining the RAF in a couple of days. She knew they’d all cheer.

  “Now, sit, boys. Eat your breakfast before your bacon gets cold.” Kelly dumped the vegetables from the basket into the sink. “Then gorgeous Nurse Nan here will have a good look at you. Tea, Nan? Something to eat?”

  “Tea, thanks.”

  “Bridie, get up and give Mrs. O’Neil your seat.”

  The skinny girl pouted but did as she was told.

  “They’re too old for you anyway,” Nan heard Siobhan say to the girl before placing a plate of hot tomatoes on the table.

  “Are not,” Bridie said. “Me ma was sixteen when she married me da.”

  “Then come back in three years, Bridie, and maybe then you won’t have to stuff ya bra with tissues.”

  The comment sent the girls into fits of laughter. Bridie’s face turned bright red. She folded her arms and backed away until she stood against the wall.

  The pack of girls poured tea, replenished eggs and rashers for the men, and yattered on.

  Nan surveyed the airmen. Bruises, nicks, and abrasions seemed to be the main problem. “Does anyone have an injury besides cuts and scrapes?”

  They shook their heads.

  “How many of your crew are still missing?”

  The room went silent. They glanced around at each other.

  “Is this the entire crew?” Of course she knew it wasn’t.

  Kelly placed a pitcher of milk in front of Nan. “They won’t admit it, but there should be six of them. Isn’t that right, lads? Six crew members to fly the Wellington?”

  The tall crewman rubbed his mouth with a napkin. On his plate were half-eaten patties of blood pudding. “Yeah, that’s true. We’re missing two crew members. Ouch!”

  Someone had kicked him under the table.

  “Shut up, Curtis,” a boy with a thin mustache said.

  Curtis sneered at the man next to him. “They’re not daft, sir. They can count.”

  “Yes,” Nan said. “I saw the accident site today. What a shame. I hope everyone will prove to be all right.”

  “They’re probably dead.” Officer Ryan stared at his plate. “My mum has a teapot like that. Back home. But we’re never going to make it home again.”

  The tea in Nan’s stomach burned. She knew that look. Teddy had worn the same chewed-up, desperate expression. It was as though someone had pulled the plug and all the joy and promise of life had drained.

  Her thoughts spiraled back. There’d been nothing physically wrong with her Teddy. Nothing a doctor could do or fix or even diagnose. It had been spiritual. She heard the inner voice that accused her of not soliciting help from Father Albert. Teddy wouldn’t hear of it. He’d turned his back on God the last few months of his life, and nothing Nan could say would change his mind. Or his heart.

  “Shut your trap, Ryan. We’re sick of your gloom and doom. Aren’t we?”

  The rest of the airmen agreed.

  Nan longed to help him. “What’s your first name?”

  “Rich,” he sniffed.

  “You’ll be fine, Rich.”

  His eyes went to her. “You don’t know that. How can you know that?”

  “Because God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle.”

  He scoffed. The same way Teddy had.

  “It’s true,” Nan said.

  The kid rolled his eyes.

  A young girl with a robust chest and hips to match placed her hands on his shoulders. “There, there. It’ll be all right. Have another rasher.”

  He looked into her chest, then stared at the meat on his plate. “We’re good as dead. We’re going to rot in prison camp.”

  “Ah, will you shut your trap, Ryan,” the mustached officer said. “These good ladies don’t need any more of your remorseful grumblings, and we don’t, either.”

  The sound of footsteps sent their attention to the back door.

  “What have we here?” Kelly held the door open.

  Sergeant Halpin stood behind a young man with a muddy face, curly dark hair, a torn pant leg, and scrapes across his unshaven jaw. His jacket was turned inside out, but there was no disguising the RAF uniform.

  Dutch hadn’t fooled her yesterday, either.

  “Williams! We thought you were dead!” a pilot shouted.

  “No, just caught.”

  The boys got up and gathered around their comrade, patting him on the back and shaking his hand.

  Williams looked around. “Where’s Whit—ah, our . . .”

  “Still unaccounted for,” someone said. “No one’s seen him.” The conversation died.

  How Nan ached to tell them he was asleep in her bed. Instead, she folded her arms around herself, rocking from side to side.

  “Cheer up, men,” Halpin said. “We’ll find him.”

  Kelly gestured toward the crowded table. “Sit down, lad. Enjoy a proper Irish breakfast.”

  Nan stood and offered her chair. Williams slumped into the seat. “Before you send us to prison.”

  “Internment camp,” Halpin corrected. “It won’t be too terrible. You’ll see.”

  The girls hovered around Williams. One of them ran a wet washcloth over his face. Another wiped his hands with a damp towel.

  Williams seemed to enjoy the attention. A grin began to spread across his young face.

  Paul joined Nan and Kelly at the sink. “Thank baby Jesus you found him alive,” Nan whispered. “After seeing the wreck this morning, I prayed they all got out safely.”

  “Where did you find Williams?” Kelly handed her husband a peeled carrot.

  “Walking the railroad tracks toward the north.”

  “No sign of the other pilot?” Nan asked.

  Paul shot Nan a quick glance. She stared back without twitching a muscle, but her insides were jumping around like circus animals with their tent on fire.

  “Not yet. I hope we find him alive and not washed up on the shoreline.”

  Nan’s shoulders tensed. She hoped they didn’t find him at all. At least Dutch would know his crew had made it through, even if they were on their way to internment.

  Halpin chomped on the carrot. “Nan, you seem a bit tense. Are you in a hurry somewher
e? A babe coming into the world?”

  Her smile came in a jerk. “Not a’tall. I’ve all the time in the world for these lads. And I need to do a proper inspection of your wife before I go, too.”

  “Don’t say it like that. You make me feel like a cow.” Kelly patted her stomach. “I’m fit as a heifer.”

  “Yes. You’ve turned into a bovine beauty.” Paul grinned.

  “Ah, you’ll be sleeping on the couch if you say that one more time.” The couple exchanged a gaze born from the intimacy of their marriage.

  Looking at the young men, Nan said, “Don’t they resemble birds who know they’re about to get their wings clipped and be locked in a cage?”

  Kelly placed a carrot onto a cutting board beside the sink. “I’ve heard some Allies are given escorts to the border.”

  “Where did you hear such a thing?” he asked.

  Kelly glanced at Siobhan, who poured hot water into a teapot. The scent of freshly wetted tea leaves filled the air.

  “Siobhan’s father. He has friends in Dublin who are solicitors, and there’s been talk.”

  Nan perked up, trying not to show it. “Is that true? They let the RAF pilots go?”

  “Only if their mission was noncombat. A training mission or transport.” He chomped on the carrot.

  “So, we can let them go?” If Halpin planned to release the boys, a world of problems would be solved. She could come clean about Dutch.

  “The crew has clearly been in combat. I’ve been informed the LDF found magazines full of bullets, and their mission log. These airmen are internment bound.”

  Siobhan swatted a fly with a towel. It fell to the floor, dead. Just like Nan’s hope.

  Nan glanced over at the boys. “Can’t we turn a blind eye?”

  He stopped midbite. “What you’re suggesting violates our Emergency Act. If word were to get out—”

  “Who’d be daft enough to tell?” Nan’s voice boomed louder than she’d intended.

  Paul’s face tightened, sending lines like twigs around his eyes. “Finn for one. He’s bucking to get full membership in the Garda after the war, so he’s trying his hardest to make points.”