The Troubles (The Jessica Trilogy Book 2)

by Connie Johnson Hambley

His trips down this darkened passage were more frequent the past weeks, so no cobwebs clung to his face and no grit crushed on the stairs to give away his progress. A growing smile on his face threatened to reveal a hint of self-satisfaction, but he refused to be prideful. He devoted his service to God and man. To those ends, he was fulfilled.

  He wound his way to the far most corner of the cellar, entered a small room, pulled boxes away from the hole in the wall, and waited.

  Patience in these moments was something he knew well. Rosary laced in his fingers, he sat with his head bowed, listening more than praying. A faint scraping followed by rhythmic thudding grew louder. Peering into the absolute blackness he waited until the something began to shift and take shape. The faintest of light, almost red, appeared at a distant point. He flicked his pen light three times. Stopped. Then four. The red grew to orange, then yellow. Then into a man.

  He stepped back as the figure emerged and held out his arm for support. A muscular brute in his early thirties groaned quietly as he stood upright and stretched for the first time in what had been many hours. Once the man steadied himself, he enveloped Father Archdall in a warm embrace. The tunnels and catacombs must have been hell on his back.

  “You’re safe,” was all he needed to say.

  Even in the darkened room, he clearly knew the man’s emotions. “Thank you,” the man said, his voice soft but strong.

  “Is it soon?” he asked.

  “There’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. I’m to give you this.” The man pressed a paper into Father Archdall’s hand.

  “Things are happening quickly.”

  “I can’t say more. Just being careful.”

  Father Archdall nodded, “And you?”

  “The RUC was close on my heels. I never would have gotten over the border without your help.”

  “Will there be more?”

  The man paused before he spoke. “Time will tell.”

  Father Archdall motioned to a cubby of blankets and food. “You can sleep here for a few hours before your next escort comes. Mass starts soon, but you’ll be safe.”

  He handed the man a thick envelope of papers he knew contained all of the pieces needed for a new life in a new country. Passport, visa, perhaps a summary of a new identity, money, and note with the time and public place to meet the next escort. Never any names. Never any addresses. This packet was a bit thicker than some of the others suggesting this man had a family he was trying to smuggle out as well. The thought gave him a momentary stab of pain, but he had done his part.

  The man surprised him when he refused the envelope. Father Archdall tried again to put it into the man’s hands.

  “Save it for the next one. It belongs to him. I’m using this route only to deliver the message. I won’t be back or be needin’ more.”

  Father Archdall had never been refused. The system—or he—never tested or broken. “You’re safe?”

  “I am.”

  He thought he heard an unsettling emphasis on “I.” The man’s voice was calm and he had brought a backpack of some sort. Heavy.

  An awkward silence hung between them. Gradually it occurred to Father Archdall that his presence was no longer needed or wanted. He turned and made his way slowly up the stairs, saying goodbye as he did so.

  “Everything you need is here. I wish you God’s speed.”

  “I’d like you to leave the keys and the Land Rover at the cottage from now on. I really don’t’ want to bother you each time I go to town,” Jessica said, extending her hand for the keys. She stood in the courtyard of the cottage meeting Nan at its entrance. A defensive approach wasn’t going to get her the space and autonomy she needed. She tried to be pleasant.

  Nan straightened her back. “You’re thinkin’ of going into town alone?”

  “I’ve been with you enough times on Sundays. I know my way around.” Addressing Nan’s unspoken concerns she added, “and I know how to take care of myself.”

  Nan drew her chin down to her chest and steadied herself with an inhale. “And you’re thinking of driving these roads by yourself?”

  “Of course. I want to get out on my own and explore on something more than horseback.”

  “Exploring on your own is out of the question. You ever drive in Ireland before?”

  “No, but—”

  Nan held up her hand and assumed her most affable demeanor, smiling and exaggerating her singsong words. “You’d be takin’ your life and the life of a few good people in your hands to drive these roads here.”

  “Really there’s no need to inconvenience you,” Jessica said, refusing to be cajoled, “I just want to run an errand in town and—”

  Nan cut her off. Pale gray eyes, unblinking and penetrating, looked through her. “Truly,” Nan said, “there’s no problem to keepin’ things as they are. It’s worked out well for me to be your guide, and I be goin’ into town again anyway. What is it you’d be lookin’ for?”

  Jessica stumbled over her response. The underlying chill wrapped in feigned warmth irked her. “I, er, I needed to get some wraps for the horses and maybe something for myself.”

  “Oh, now, deary, that’d be fine. Did you have a store in mind?”

  “Well, no. I thought I’d poke around.”

  Nan hesitated for a moment, looking at Jessica if she was truly stupid. “No,” she said in a tone that ended the discussion.

  With no alternative, Jessica reluctantly agreed and climbed into the passenger seat of the Land Rover. As usual, Nan’s booted foot seemed a bit too heavy on the accelerator and the two women bumped and swerved their way into town in the ancient vehicle. At the beginning of her stay, Jessica would use the drive for small talk, asking about Michael or more about Nan’s work. Inevitably, she ended up disappointed. Nan told her nothing more than broad details Jessica already knew and remained tight-lipped saying Michael that should be the one to give her specifics. Frustrated and tired of being rebuffed, Jessica contented herself by looking at the passing countryside.

  A few scattered farms dotted the fields. Clusters of homes became more frequent as they neared town which itself consisted of one main street with a handful of roads peeling away from the center. Rows of gaily painted buildings in different states of repair flanked the main street. Dating back over a century, each store seemed to represent a boom or bust time in Ireland’s history. The more substantial stone buildings showed years of relative comfort and wealth. Other wooden buildings, like the families who owned them, barely held on.

  On each trip to town, Nan insisted on Jessica wearing some type of hat and glasses. Today was no different. Nan handed her a black baseball cap. It was one of Jessica’s favorites from her years at Bowdoin with a white silhouette of a polar bear on the forehead. She took it but was surprised she had left it out at the cottage. Had she hung it on the pegboard? She couldn’t remember and looked at it and the pair of aviator style sunglasses offered to her.

  Jessica bristled. “I’m not hiding from anyone anymore.”

  “Of course not,” Nan clipped. “But you’re not waving a red flag under a bull’s nose either.”

  “I’m tired of this,” she said, placing the items in her lap.

  “As long as you’re under my care, you’ll do what I ask.” The engine whirred as Nan downshifted.

  It was clear she was going to head back to the cottage unless Jessica complied. Reluctantly, she put them on.

  Nan pulled the Land Rover in front of one of the wooden buildings. Its faded blue sides with white trim were in dire need of a new paint job, but it put on a brave face to be cheery. The store bore the sign “Dillon’s General Store.” Nan stood on the sidewalk for a moment and looked up and down the street. She then motioned for Jessica to join her.

  Wherever Jessica lived, the hardware store would become her favorite spot. She could relax and get lost in there, generally getting the feel for her new home. The store reflected the people and the needs of the surrounding community, and the merchandise was as inter
esting as the people who shopped there. Inside, the variety of goods made her feel she had stepped back in time. Dillon’s was a general store in the truest sense. It had something for every person and every need. Parts for farm machinery, painting supplies, livestock feeds and buckets, pots and pans, and a multitude of odd tools lined the wooden and metal shelves. Rubber balls and dusty wooden toys sat in a corner. The store evidenced a self-sufficient, practical, and hardworking community.

  Jessica could feel Nan’s eyes on her and took great care to look in every aisle. The store smelled of old cotton, mineral spirits, household cleaners, oil, and dust. The wood floors creaked as she made her way into different sections, which shelved the perfect item for every need created for running a home or farm. She hoped that if she chewed up enough time dragging out her errands, maybe Nan would get sick of babysitting her and relinquish the keys. She wasn’t sure how long she browsed, but when she stole a look at Nan, it surprised her to see Nan leaning against the shelves with an odd expression on her face. Jessica didn’t feel watched as much as she felt examined, every move observed and catalogued.

  Eventually, Jessica wound her way up the creaking stairs and ended up in the corner of the store dedicated to clothing for men, women, and children. Along one wall were blue jeans and work clothes. To Jessica’s ongoing amazement, the other wall held sweaters, pants and a display case of very sensible cotton underwear of all shapes and sizes. As she turned to leave, another woman appeared out of nowhere and guided her over to a rack of dresses. Her ample bosom made her look like she was leaning a bit forward. She handed her a dress of a deep lilac color. “Dillon’s just got these in. I’ll bet it’ll be perfect for you.”

  Jessica looked at the dress made from the softest and most finely woven wool that she had ever handled. The deep purple wrap would be forgiving on any body type but on Jessica it would be stunning.

  “Oh!” Jessica couldn’t hide her surprise. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Aye. ‘Tis at that,” the woman continued and stared intently into Jessica’s face as she spoke. “The owner’s granddaughter, Eilis, weaves and sews up a storm. Considered the best in all of Ireland. All the young ladies love what her dresses do for their curves. With the shape you’ve got, you’ll be the envy of them.”

  Jessica fingered the fine wool. “It’s incredibly soft. Thank you. I’ll go try it on.”

  Nan came around the corner of a display and placed herself between them. “Good idea. Dressing rooms are over there.” She nodded toward the back of the store.

  Nan waited outside the dressing room. A few people milled about the store and none seemed to pay any more attention to Jessica. She tried on several outfits, half listening as Nan expertly deflected any curiosity about her by talking about the local events that were bringing tourists in. Shoving her hair back under her cap, Jessica finished shopping and chose a long skirt, several sweaters and the dress the woman picked out. She started to pay for the items but Nan stopped her and produced a wad of bills. Jessica protested, and Nan raised her hand. “No questions,” was all she said.

  They walked slowly up the main street. Nan nodded and chatted with people she met with obvious familiarity but made no attempt to make introductions even when they showed interest in Jessica. Nan smoothed the rebuffs with exaggerated warmth and always left them chuckling.

  Looking at Nan’s ease with the townspeople and listening to her share a pleasantry and a joke sent a different kind of pang through Jessica. She had been so close to putting down roots and being a part of a community in Kentucky. Circumstances forced her to lead a nomadic life, not because she wanted to. Even Nan, with her professional personality, at least had the appearance of ties to people. Jessica yearned for that kind of connection. The friendships she had begun in Kentucky were as important to her as anything. Electra Lavielle was Jessica’s best friend there. Like Nan, Electra was older and very connected. Unlike Nan, Electra tried to integrate Jessica into the community. The contrast between the two women sharpened Jessica’s feelings of detachment, and she felt the isolation as a stigma.

  “Looking for your roots, are ya?”

  “Excuse me?” Jessica pulled herself out of her thoughts and recognized the woman from Dillon’s.

  “Your roots? We have Americans come here looking for pieces of their family tree. I thought you might be one of them.”

  Nan wedged her shoulder between them and looked her in the face. “This lady is looking for peace and quiet.”

  The woman would not be deterred and extended her hand to Jessica. She stood a head shorter than Nan and wore a buttoned shirt, open sweater and a pleated skirt that reached almost to her ankles. Thick support stockings and sensible shoes completed her look. “I’m Mrs. McDonnaugh, the town magistrate. I have Americans coming here all the time looking for any information on their family tree or ancestral lands. I’ve hoped I might be seeing you soon at the records office. That’s where the other American’s end up.”

  Jessica raised her eyebrows. “That’s good to know.”

  Mrs. McDonnaugh gave Jessica an appraising look, trying to peer around the sunglass and cap. “You seem to have a bit of the Isle in your veins. Where’s your family from?”

  “Um, Massachusetts.”

  Mrs. McDonnaugh laughed. “No. I mean where did they start from before they ended up on the shores of Massachusetts?”

  Before Jessica could answer, Nan led her away. “She’s not one you should be talkin’ to,” she said, firmly leading Jessica by her elbow.

  Jessica allowed herself to be escorted around the corner. When they were no longer at risk of being observed, she shook her arm free and rooted her feet into the ground. “What was that? What are you doing?” Her words edged with disbelief and hurt.

  “I’m respecting your privacy.”

  “Look, I appreciate your help, but I’d like to feel comfortable here. Blocking everyone from me doesn’t feel helpful.”

  “It’s for your own good. I don’t need to remind you about the press and nosey ones every time you’re recognized.”

  “In a small town like this, I would suspect walling me off and sending a signal that I’m untouchable would create even more curiosity.”

  “You need to rely on my judgment.”

  “I don’t get it,” Jessica continued, ignoring Nan’s growing impatience. “I can’t talk to anyone?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what exactly is it?”

  Nan’s distain was evident. Red climbed up her scalp, and her features hardened to stone. She brought her face as close to Jessica’s as her height would allow. Lowering her voice, her words bore into Jessica like a laser.

  “I will say this to you only once, then I will deny ever having said it. You do not belong here. You are not of us and never will be. You are not welcome here, and your presence is a thorn in our sides. Train those horses and get out of town. I do for you what I have been asked to do. Do. Not. Question. Me.”

  Jessica stepped back as if bitten by a viper. She could feel herself grow icy cold with panic. “I... I don’t understand.”

  Nan turned her back, and took a deep measured breath while rolling her shoulders and neck in circles. Her body softened and color retreated. Finally composed, she faced Jessica, her manner completely changed. “Well now, deary. Enough of that talk.”

  The cathedral’s bells chimed five times, and Nan looked up and down the empty streets. “You said you wanted a chance to wander the town. Now’s as good a time as any. Let’s go walk it off.” She turned and walked down a side street.

  Jessica watched the retreating figure in disbelief. What had just happened? Loneliness enveloped her. The hollowness she had long felt began to fill with an unwelcomed awareness. No past grounded her with memories, nor did an identity define her. Combined with a present that was surreal at best, she felt more abandoned and confused than ever before. She blinked and surveyed the cobbled street, forgetting why she was there.

  “Well, come on
now. Get a move on!”

  Nan beckoned her to follow. Having no other place to go and no means to get there, Jessica put one foot in front of the other and followed.

  She didn’t know how far she had walked or even what direction she took, but eventually a new wariness set in. Nan adopted her best tour guide tone and kept up a light banter of tidbits meant to entertain but not really inform. Occasionally they would pass a local on their way home, and Nan’s commentary was perfectly constructed to deflect them to a discussion of local charms and away from Jessica. They rounded a corner and the back of the cathedral came into view.

  “The original building dating back to the medieval period was rebuilt several times. The last major structural revision took place around about 1870. The cathedral’s distinctive square tower and the lower entrance were added by Bishop Forster in 1768 and were...” Nan stopped, midsentence.

  Jessica recognized the bespectacled old man wearing a black cassock as Father Archdall. He seemed smaller than he appeared on the altar, shrunk down as if the sunlight dried him out. The skin of his face, having lost all battles with gravity, sagged in long jowls, his expression forever one of disapproval and reproach. His eyes blinked rapidly as they adjusted to the light.

  A feeling passed between them and Nan, but Jessica, still reeling from being chastised, couldn’t pinpoint it. Deep down, she sensed her presence caused some sort of tension but couldn’t think beyond that. Her feet slowed as a flash of intuition grabbed her. What made her think anything more? She raised her head to observe more carefully.

  Nan nodded an aloof greeting. Then she placed her hand in the center of Jessica’s back and shoved her in the other direction, her motion uncaring and abrupt. Still reeling from Nan’s rebuff, Jessica walked on, mute and bewildered. They continued their hurried pace and were about to return to the Land Rover when Nan stepped quickly to the side, nearly causing Jessica to collide into two large shaggy dogs. Jostled off balance, Jessica felt a strong arm wrap around her waist. The grip remained even after she steadied.

  “Well now. Careful there.” Two green eyes danced in merriment. Tim gave Jessica an extra wide smile. “These guys have a nose for a beautiful woman and look who they’ve found.”