Hannie Rising

by Jeanette Baker

  Pulling back the curtain, Johannah looked out over the bustle of Dublin. A Viking town was Dublin, then an English town and now, an Irish City. She sipped her tea and reached for the phone. It was past time to ring Kate.

  Chapter 25

  Kate

  Kate, in the middle of a phone conversation with her mother, forced herself to sound light-hearted and in full command. "Everything's fine, Mom. Nan decided to go for a walk the day you left, but Liam found her. There was no harm done."

  "I'm glad Liam stepped in to help you, Katie. You shouldn't have to do everything on your own. Maura will help, too, you know."

  Kate felt her heart pound. There was no way her mother wouldn't find out about the fiasco at the Grand Hotel, but she hoped it wouldn't be until after she was home. "Nan seems to have taken to your friend Patrick. He's spending some time with her. What a lovely man he is. Where did you meet him anyway?"

  "I thought I told you. We met at The Daily Grind on Castle Street. He doesn't seem like a stranger at all, even though he's new in town. I shall have to thank him when I get back."

  "How is it going with you?" asked Kate.

  "Well enough. I've enough information to fill up a notebook. "

  "What do you make of Jack Rafferty?"

  "How do you mean?"

  "He has quite a reputation. I've heard he's planning to go into politics."

  "I wouldn't know anything about that. He's all business here and that's fine with me." Johannah changed the subject. "How's Evan?"

  "Grand. He's not long asleep." Kate hesitated. "I miss you. The nights are long when you're not here."

  "You should be home, Kate. How's Dermot?"

  "I don't know. We don't talk."

  The silence on the other end of the line was palpable. Finally, Johannah spoke. "What's happening, Kate?"

  "I don't know."

  "All right, then. What do you want to happen?"

  Kate sighed. "The impossible. I want my life to have taken a different turn. I want to be young again with all the choices ahead. I want Dermot to be the way he used to be when we first got married. I want him to think that what I want is as important as what his mother wants. What does that make me, Mom? A terrible person?"

  Johannah's laugh held little humor. "No, love. It makes you normal. There's not a woman alive who hasn't wished that at least once during her marriage."

  "Even you?"

  "Especially me."

  "Do you wish you'd thrown in the towel?"

  "Is that an American expression?"

  "I suppose. Do you know what I mean?"

  "I do. The answer to your question is, no. That was never an option, not in my world anyway."

  "What would you do if you were me?"

  "Would it make a difference to you, whatever I said?"

  "Possibly."

  "How can I answer that? It depends on so many things."

  "What things?"

  She heard her mother sigh into the phone and bit her lip. Just once, she'd like for Johannah to approve of her.

  "We'll talk when I get home. Perhaps you'd better just concentrate on Nan and Evan. Remember that I love you. Tell Maura to call me on my mobile."

  Kate said goodbye and settled the phone into its cradle, poured herself a cup of tea and stared into the distorted reflection of the metal teapot. Did mothers ever approve of their daughters? Sally O'Brien's mother did, but then her A levels had been over the top and she ended up a barrister in private practice in London. Still, Charlotte O'Brien probably confided to her friends that money and position didn't make up for grandchildren.

  Dolly walked into the kitchen. "Any hope for a cup of tea?"

  Kate jumped up. "Sit down, Nan. I just made a new pot."

  Settled into the chair beside the radiator, Dolly stirred milk into her cup. "You're looking blue."

  "I have some uncomfortable decisions to make."

  "Dermot?"

  Kate looked surprised. "Right. I didn't think you knew."

  "I'm not dead, Katie. You're here with the child and Dermot's at your house. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. Too bad, it is, but then these things happen. Not in my day, of course. We had no divorce in Ireland in my day, more's the pity. The queue gathered from here to Dublin when our government came to its senses and finally allowed it. Thank God that's ended."

  Kate stared at her grandmother, wide-eyed. "Do you believe in divorce, Nan?"

  "I believe that people shouldn't live in misery, whatever that means."

  "Do you think I'm living in misery?"

  Dolly sipped her tea. "Without a doubt."

  Kate posed the same question she'd asked her mother. "If you were me, would you divorce Dermot?"

  "It depends."

  "On what?"

  "Did you ever love Dermot? Are you attracted to him? Do you respect him? If the answer to all three is no, then there's no hope at all. If you respect him but aren't attracted to him, there's still no hope. If you're attracted to him, there's always hope even if you don't think you love him and even if you don't respect him. In a nutshell, attraction is the key. If you can't imagine what you ever saw in him, it's over." The wrinkles in Dolly's forehead deepened. "Does any of that help?"

  Kate was silent for a good thirty seconds, stunned at her grandmother's lucidity. "You surprise me, Nan," she said at last. "I wouldn't have thought you had it in you to say any of those things, especially to me."

  "You haven't answered any of my questions."

  "I'll have to think about them."

  "Thinking is good. There's always hope if you need to think."

  "Mom says hello. That was her on the phone."

  "Your mother is a good person," Dolly stated matter-of-factly, "even if she is wrong about me."

  "How is she wrong?"

  "I should be in my own home. Even if I have lost brain cells, I still have more than most people are born with. I'm certainly smart enough to live on my own. Even slow people, retarded people, manage to live on their own."

  Kate poured her grandmother another cup of tea. "You might have a point there, Nan. Still, there's plenty of room and you're with your family. Most people would give their eye teeth to be home with people who want them."

  "Does anyone really want me?"

  "Of course we do."

  "You never came to see me much when I lived in Kevin Barry's."

  "Because it's out of the way and we're busy. This is much nicer, having you here every day."

  "I feel like an obligation to you and Liam, as well as your mother."

  "You're not at all, Nan. We're happy to have you. Really we are."

  Dolly's voice softened. "You're a good girl, Katie. Your mother raised you right. I'm a difficult old woman who should keep her mouth shut." She looked around. "Where is your father?"

  Kate blinked, unprepared for the question. Their conversation had seemed so normal. She found her voice. "He's not here, Nan. Would you like to go for a walk? Liam should be home soon and it won't be dark for quite some time."

  "I'd like to see Mickey."

  "You can't."

  "Why not?"

  Kate set her cup down on the table, hard. She watched the crack make its way across the porcelain. "He's dead. He died over a year ago."

  "Nonsense. Why does everyone persist in telling me this? I've seen him, talked to him."

  Kate stood and began clearing the dishes from the table. "Let's change the subject. I'll make you a sandwich and then you can go upstairs and get ready for a walk. We'll go round to Kevin Barry's and visit some of your friends."

  A knock sounded on the door. Grateful for the reprieve, Kate walked through the hall and peeked through the glass. Her mother's friend, Patrick, waved at her. She opened the door. "Hello, Patrick. How lovely to see you. Mom is still in Dublin."

  "I know. I'm here for your grandmother. I thought she might like to take a walk with me and stop somewhere for tea." He pointed to his watch. "It's that time."

&n
bsp; Was he a magician to appear at the exact moment he was needed? Kate stepped aside. "I'm sure she'd love it. Please, come in."

  Dolly stood in the hall. "Mickey, it's you. Tell this ridiculous child that you're still in the land of the living."

  Kate looked imploringly at Patrick. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "but she won't give up the idea that you're my dad."

  "I've been called much worse. From what I've heard, Mickey Enright wasn't a bad bloke."

  Kate laughed. "You won't get an argument from me."

  "I've come to take you out for tea, Dolly. Will you spare me an hour or two?"

  "Yes, I will. Give me ten minutes and I'll be ready to go."

  "This is really very kind of you," Kate said when her grandmother had disappeared from view.

  "Your mother asked me to look in on you and help wherever I could."

  "Did she really?"

  "Yes."

  "That's funny. She didn't mention anything about it when she phoned today."

  "I'm sure she has a great deal on her mind."

  Kate nodded. "That's probably it. I'll help Nan get ready. Make yourself comfortable in the sitting room."

  Dolly was in process of inserting a hat pin into the back of her wool beret when Kate knocked on the door and stepped inside. "Is this all right?" she asked, turning her head to the side.

  "You look grand, Nan. It's just a light tea. You know what they say, better to be under dressed than over."

  "I've never heard that, nor do I believe it. It sounds like something one of your generation would make up. How many pairs of denims do you own anyway?"

  "Quite a few, I suppose."

  "You have a nice figure, Katie, but no one would ever know with those trousers down around your hips and the shapeless blouses that are all the rage. Whatever happened to hats anyway?"

  Kate laughed. "I don't know what happened to hats, but I won't argue with you about any of that. I think the clothes women wore fifty years ago were beautiful. Tell me where I can find them and I'll buy some." She stood behind her grandmother and fluffed out the thick white hair. "You have such beautiful hair, Nan. I wish you hadn't cut it."

  "It's easier to wash and comb."

  "Easy is the rage, is it?"

  Dolly looked surprised. "I suppose it is. Point taken. You're a good girl, Katie."

  "So you've said. Be kind to Patrick, Nan. Remember, he's Mom's friend and a very nice man."

  Dolly hands, the skin as fine and dry as parchment, clasped Kate's. "He looks different, but he's Mickey. I promise you that."

  "How can you be so sure, Nan?"

  "He knows things."

  Kate frowned. The air had suddenly gone cold. "What things?"

  For a moment Dolly looked confused. Then she shrugged her shoulders and moved toward the door. "Things, that's all. Feed Seamus for me, will you, or shall I bring him along?" She stopped a minute. "Do you remember the door I had closed in when I rented rooms during the Rose of Tralee Festival?"

  "Yes."

  "He knew exactly where it was. He told me he could open it up again if I wanted. Now who but Mickey would know that?"

  "Half of Tralee, that's who. The houses in Kevin Barry's are all the same."

  "He doesn't live in Kevin Barry's. If he's a stranger, a blow-in, how would he know about my door? I haven't had it for fifteen years."

  How would he know such a thing? Someone must have mentioned it, probably Dolly herself. Shrugging off the odd chill creeping along her spine, Kate followed her grandmother down the stairs. Patrick stood near the mantel examining the framed pictures of the family. He looked so trustworthy in his khaki trousers and wool pullover. "Where did you say you were going?" Kate asked.

  "Galley's is close and the food is good. Is that acceptable, Dolly?"

  "It is."

  "Will you be home straight away?" Kate flushed. "I was only asking because Mom might call again. Nan wouldn't want to miss her twice."

  Patrick's eyes twinkled. "She'll be here at half-eight unless you'd like her back sooner."

  "No, not at all," she stammered, sure she was so sounding like an idiot. "Half-eight is fine."

  Chapter 26

  Johannah

  They sat in the lobby of the Grafton, sated after the hotel's spectacular late afternoon tea. Jack Rafferty leaned back in the over-stuffed chair, his gaze speculative, curious. "I've never been to Tralee. I've heard it's beautiful."

  Johannah laughed. "Tralee? I can't imagine who would have told you that. The Ring of Kerry is lovely but only if you avoid tourist season."

  "But that's not really Tralee, is it?"

  "No."

  "Describe it."

  "Sorry?"

  "Describe the town, the countryside, your favorite places." He waved his hand. "What is it like? Why do you stay there?"

  Why did she stay in Tralee? Why did anyone stay in the town where she was born and raised? "It's my home," she began slowly. "My mother and children live there. I have friends and a grandson. My husband is buried in the town cemetery. I'm comfortable knowing my way." She tried to put herself in his place, to see her, Johannah Enright, the person, through his eyes. Her reasons were normal and sound, but did she sound weak? A woman whose choices were made for her, a woman who succumbed to her circumstances instead of choosing them? Suddenly she was annoyed. Who was he to ask such a question?

  "You don't look old enough to have a grandson."

  Her look was level, cool, slightly mocking. "Please, Mr. Rafferty. Don't be predictable."

  He nodded. "All right. Did you grow up in Tralee?"

  Johannah nodded. "I did."

  His eyes never left her face. "Tell me about it. I want to see it as you do."

  Johannah was feeling definitely uncomfortable. It had been a lifetime since she'd been the object of a man's undivided attention. "I'm not sure where I should begin."

  He waited, saying nothing, allowing her to find her own way.

  "The town is well enough, I suppose, although the sense of community isn't the same as when I was a girl. There are so many strangers, mostly from other countries within the EU. I live on the edge of the town, not quite in the country, but enough out of the way to avoid the gossips, not too far that I can't run across the road and pick up a liter of milk or a loaf of bread when I run short." She warmed to her subject. "My house isn't in an estate. The lot is big and the family beside me owns cows. The neighbors second next door have a pig."

  "A pig, in the town?"

  "It isn't a very large pig," she explained. "Once it got out, ran between our two gates and ended up in the cow pasture. A cow had just given birth. She was terribly protective of her calf and nearly went crazy when she saw the pig. My neighbors, and half the town, fearful she'd harm her own calf, chased after the pig, bumping into each other, falling down, cursing. One of the recruits even pulled out a lasso. Imagine lassoing a pig as if he were John Wayne. No one ever did catch it. Somehow, the pig knew when to go home. It was hysterical to see everyone, covered in mud and cow dung walking home completely disgusted with themselves."

  He looked incredulous rather than amused. Johannah was embarrassed. What was she doing describing pigs and cows to this man who oozed of sophistication? She lifted her chin. "What about you, Mr. Rafferty? Where do you live?"

  "Call me Jack. I don't actually live anywhere, but I was born in Belfast."

  So, she wasn't wrong about his accent.

  "My brothers live in the States and my sister immigrated to Australia with her husband twenty years ago. My father died when I was a child and my mother passed on five years ago. I rent a flat in London but it's not much of a home. I'm rarely there."

  "Have you no wife or children?"

  "No."

  She should have felt pity for one so removed from family and friends, but there was something about Jack Rafferty that wouldn't allow it. Still, Johannah felt an obligation to respond. "Do you enjoy that sort of life?"

  "It suits me."

  She looke
d away.

  "You're thinking it's a lonely existence."

  She was thinking exactly that, but to pass judgment on someone else's habits was beyond rude. She smiled. "It wouldn't suit me, but that's what makes the world interesting, isn't it?"

  He changed the subject. "How did you get involved in this collective bargaining situation, Johannah? I wouldn't have thought a woman like you would be in a place like this."

  "There you go, assuming when you don't even know me."

  "Am I wrong?"

  She laughed. "Not really. I was nominated by default. The others all have dependents who can't live without them."

  "It sounds to me as if you have those things as well."

  "No one is so indispensable that she can't be replaced, especially not for a few days."

  He looked thoughtful. "I suppose not."

  Johannah glanced at her watch. "My goodness. I didn't realize how late it is. I've a meeting and then a dinner engagement, although how I'll manage a bite after this feast I'm not sure. Do people here really eat this much?"

  "Only on special occasions. Must you go so soon?"

  "I'm afraid so." She stood. "Thank you very much. The tea was lovely."

  He reached out to stop her. "May I see you again?"

  She froze. He couldn't mean what she thought. Recovering quickly, she smiled. "Of course. You'll be coming to Tralee."

  He looked at her steadily. "I meant in a social capacity."

  Johannah hesitated. There was no doubting his sincerity and for the moment she was flattered. Jack Rafferty was attractive and educated, more sophisticated than anyone she'd met before and certainly more worldly. That he might be interested in her was a certainly a feather in her cap. But she was also wise enough to know the benefits of staying with her own kind. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea," she said gently.

  "Will you consider it?" He smiled an attractive, craggy smile designed to wear down the defenses of any woman, never mind a vulnerable one who'd recently lost a husband and had no hope of starting over in a town where everyone knew his neighbor's business.

  Johannah relented. "I will."

  "Then I'll ask again. Don't forget the rally tomorrow."

  She had no intention of attending the rally. Kate and Liam had been on their own with their grandmother long enough and she had what she'd come for, perhaps a bit more. "Good night, Jack. Thanks again for the tea and the company."