Authors: Paula Martin
He turned to her with a smile. "I was admiring the view. Usually I'm picking up or dropping off here. I've never had the chance to take a good look around before."
"It's a fabulous view, isn't it? Even on a cloudy evening like this."
For a minute or so, they both gazed out across the narrow inlet to the low hills on the far shore. "Whoever built this house chose the perfect location." Ryan turned toward Mist Na Mara. "And it's a beautiful house, too. Victorian, isn't it?"
"Yes, the original house was built by one of Guy's ancestors at the end of the nineteenth century, but it was extended in the 1930s, and the conservatory and new extension at the back were added a few years ago. You'll have to come inside sometime and I'll give you a guided tour."
"I'd enjoy that." He held open the car door for her. "But for now, my stomach is telling me it's time to eat. Hope you're hungry, because I checked with Murphy's that they still have plenty of Irish stew left for us."
Kara laughed. "I wonder if it'll be better than the Irish stew I had when I first came here."
"I'm sure it will be." He set off down the sloping driveway, slowed around the bend, and pointed across the empty visitors' car park to the roof of a stone building, almost hidden by overgrown shrubbery. Today was the first time he'd noticed it, but of course this was the first time he'd been searching specifically for a possible storage area for stolen goods. "Is that a barn over there?"
"It's a derelict cottage that used to belong to the farm. Guy bought it from them last year and he's planning to restore it as it might have been about a hundred and fifty years ago. It will be wonderful for our Living History presentations, and we've been learning some Irish crafts like spinning and weaving wool or flax, and making candles and pottery. Things we can demonstrate in a traditional setting."
Ryan only half-listened as Kara talked about some of the research they'd done. His mind worked overtime as he wondered how he could access the cottage, since there didn't appear to be any path through the bushes from the car park. He needed some firm evidence that this was where the white van had been heading when it disappeared. Not that there'd been any sign of it or of Paddy Walsh the previous two Mondays, and he'd cruised several times down Tully Avenue, where Paddy said his sister lived, without seeing it either.
He dragged himself back to the present as he caught the last thing she said and shot a quick glance at her.
"Sister Gabriel called you?"
"Yes, this afternoon. Guy took the call, so I had some explaining to do, but I called her back. That's why I was late coming out to meet you, because she told Guy I should only call her between seven and eight."
"What did she say?"
"Actually, it was an odd kind of conversation and I don't quite know what to make of it. Let's go in the pub, and then I'll tell you."
Chapter 9
Murphy's Bar was crowded with both locals and tourists, but they found a spare table in one corner, and sat together on the padded bench seat. After Ryan ordered their drinks, he grinned at her. "Sure you want Irish Stew? You can choose something else from the menu, if you prefer."
Kara returned his grin. "I'm relying on your recommendation."
"Irish Stew twice, please," he said to the server, and turned back to her. "Now tell me what Sister Gabriel said."
"It was only a short call. She apologised for not contacting me sooner, and said she had some information, but didn't want to tell me over the phone. I asked if it was about my mother, but she didn't answer that. All she said was,
I am breaking a lot of rules here
.
That's the reason I've hesitated for the past two weeks.
"
"What did you say?"
"Just that I'd be grateful for anything she could tell me, and she asked if I would meet her in Galway. My mind went blank, and I said I'd call her back after I'd checked next week's schedule."
"If she wants to meet with you, rather than telling you on the phone, I'm assuming she doesn't want anyone to overhear."
"Do you think it means she has found out something about my mom or her mother?"
"Or it might mean—" Ryan stopped, and his brow creased. "How old do you think she is?"
"Sister Gabriel?" Kara did a quick calculation. "She must be in her mid-seventies. She said she was eight or nine when she appeared in Alice Vernon's movie, and that was filmed in 1948."
"Which would make her nineteen or twenty in 1959."
"That's true, but what are you suggesting?"
"Think about it, Kara. Sister Gabriel could have become a nun, or at least a novice, when she was eighteen, so she may have been at the Ballykane home in 1959."
Kara stared at him. "You think she might actually remember my mom or her mother? But hundreds of babies were born at the home."
"What information did you give her?"
"Just my mom's date of birth."
"Not the name from the certificate?"
"No, we didn't get that until last Saturday."
Ryan nodded. "Aye, of course, and Sister Gabriel isn't likely to remember your mom's birth from the date alone, is she?"
"Unless April 2nd happens to be her birthday or something like that." Kara waited until the server delivered their drinks, and raised her glass of wine. "
Sláinte
!"
Ryan clinked his pint glass of Guinness against hers. "
Sláinte
!" He glanced at his watch. "It's not eight o'clock yet. Why don't you call her again and see when she wants to meet you?"
Kara fished in her pocket for her phone, swiped the screen, and studied her calendar. "I won't be able to get away over the weekend, and we have at least one Living History presentation every day next week, and some evening sessions, too. I have a few mornings off, but no free day until Sunday next week."
"If you want a lift to Galway, I'll take you."
"But you might be working."
He grinned. "My hours are more flexible than yours."
"Okay. Thank you." A small buzz arced through Kara's veins as she found Sister Gabriel's number. Despite what Ryan had said about this being the wrong time for him, whatever that meant, there was no denying the electricity between them whenever their eyes met. No denying, either, her growing attraction to him which sent all her senses into overdrive.
"Kara? Is that you?"
The nun's voice pulled her thoughts away from Ryan. "Hi, Sister Gabriel. I – erm, I've checked my calendar, and I could come to Galway on Sunday next week, if that would be convenient."
"I'm sorry. Sunday is not a good day for me. We have Mass, and then Bible study and prayers, and – well, I'm sure you understand."
"Oh, yes, of course. What day is best for you?"
"Any weekday evening between seven and eight o'clock, which is when I take my walk along the promenade during the summer months. I love the view across the bay."
Kara thought quickly. "Would Friday evening be okay for you? Not this coming Friday, because we have a weekend event at Mist Na Mara. The following one, I mean." She glanced at Ryan who nodded.
"Yes, I can meet you on Friday next week," the nun said.
"Where is the best place to meet?"
"There's a long wooden bench on the promenade, about ten minutes' walk from the convent. It's opposite a small park in between two of the big hotels. I usually sit there for thirty minutes or so before I return to the convent. If it's raining, there's a bus shelter with seats nearby."
"Okay, I'll aim to get there about seven-fifteen." Kara took a quick breath, and went on, "Sister, I've been wondering – do you remember my mom, or her mother?"
She sensed the nun's hesitation before the quiet voice went on, "If you can curb your curiosity, my dear, I'll tell you what I know when we meet. So much easier than over the phone, don't you think?"
"Yes, of course. Well, thank you, Sister, and I'll look forward to meeting you."
She clicked off her phone and gave Ryan a tremulous smile. "You know, when Guy told me she called this afternoon, I was sure she'd say she couldn't find anything in the records, but now I don't know what to think or to expect."
Ryan reached to squeeze her hand, and glanced around as the server approached with two steaming bowls of stew. "You'll need to wait a while to find out, but in the meantime, this will give you something else to think about."
She studied the contents of the bowl. "Okay, meat, potatoes, carrots, onions. What makes this special?"
He scooped up a mouthful on his fork and chewed it thoughtfully. "They have their own secret recipe, but I'm guessing it includes rosemary and thyme, and some red wine, too."
Half a minute later, Kara licked her lips. "Mmm, yes, this is really tasty, and the lamb is so tender."
Ryan grinned. "Told you, didn't I? Murphy's should put up a sign saying they serve the best Irish stew in Ireland."
"Our cook at Mist Na Mara is good, but I admit her stew wasn't as delicious as this."
When she'd almost finished the stew, she followed Ryan's example in mopping up the remains of the gravy with soda bread, and laughed. "This is the real Ireland, isn't it? I can imagine your ancestors, and maybe mine, too, eating a meal like this in their little stone cottages."
"Their stew would contain far more potatoes and very little meat, if any. Potatoes were the staple food for the Irish peasants."
"And that's why it was such a disaster when the potato crop failed, wasn't it? I've read about the Great Famine."
"Aye, it's said over a million died of starvation, and over two million emigrated. Of course, the British government could have done far more to alleviate the problems, but we won't go into all that now, because it looks like a
seisun
is about to start."
Kara followed his glance to the area opposite the bar where three men and a woman had settled themselves in a semi-circle, two with fiddles, one with an accordion, and the woman with a guitar. Seconds later, she was tapping her foot while others clapped in time to the fast reel.
Cheers erupted when one of the young servers started a traditional Irish step dance in the open area near the bar. Kara leant nearer to Ryan to see around the couple standing by the doorway and smiled when he slid his arm along the back of the bench, and squeezed her shoulder gently.
"This lad's a good dancer," he said.
She nodded. "I did some Irish dancing at school, but he's doing more complex footwork than I ever did."
He turned to her with surprised eyes. "You've learnt Irish dancing?"
"Yes, in my teens. Long before I knew I had any Irish ancestry. I've always loved Irish music."
His hand tightened on her shoulder. "Must be in yer blood, me darlin' girl. Want to get up and dance now?"
She laughed. "No way. I'm not making a fool of myself in front of everyone here."
They watched as two girls joined the young man and matched their steps to his. Whoops and whistles accompanied them when the tempo quickened and the trio's hard shoes tapped out a mesmerising beat on the bare wooden floorboards.
When the dance ended, everyone applauded, and the musicians took a short break.
"Another drink?" Ryan asked as she downed the last of her wine.
"Yes, please, but let me buy—"
He shook his head as he stood up. "Put your money away. You can call me old-fashioned, but when I invite my girl out for the evening, it's me who pays."
She smiled as he maneuvered his way around the tables to the bar.
My girl
. That sounded good – and reminded her she hadn't asked him what he meant about this being the wrong time.
When he came back with her wine, and another glass of Guinness for himself, she raised her eyebrows. "Aren't you worried about going over the limit? I thought the drinking and driving laws were strict here."
"Yes, they are, but no, I'm not." He sat down and slipped his arm around her again. "Because I won't be driving."
She shot a curious glance at him, wondering if he assumed she would go back to his apartment with him. "Why not?"
He grinned. "I've told one of the other drivers I'll call him when we want a lift."
"Oh, I see. That's useful, having friends in the business. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you—" She stopped and looked up as a short, stocky man approached their table.
"Good evenin', how are ye?" the man said.
* * * * *
Ryan suppressed a groan as he recognised the man he suspected of being involved with the stolen goods. He made a conscious effort to treat him as a casual acquaintance. "Good evenin'. Paddy, isn't it? How are ye?"
"Grand, 'cept we're all behind with planting out becos of the freakin' weather."
"Forecast is better for next week."
"Hope so. Did you get yer van sorted? I asked me brother-in-law, he's good wi' engines, an' he said it might be a clogged idle control valve."
Ryan nodded. "Aye, that was the problem. They cleaned it out and it's grand now. Been visiting your sister again?"
"Not tonight. Had to drop something off at me mate's place, but the brother-in-law said he might come by here around half-eight. Anyhow, grand t'see you again."
"You, too.
Sláinte
."
He held up his glass and breathed an inner sigh of relief when Paddy headed to the bar counter.
"One of your friends?" Kara asked.
"Just someone I chatted to in Coyne's one night."
"What did he mean about your van?"
"He must have misunderstood. I was telling him about a problem a friend had with his van."
He hated lying to her, but there was no way he could tell her the complicated truth of how he'd tried to pump Paddy for information about the transit van. That reminded him of how he needed to ask her more about Liz and her boyfriend, but this wasn't the right time. Not when he had his arm around her, holding her close to him, and she was resting her hand on his thigh.
The musicians started again, this time with a slower number,
The Fields of Athenry,
played by the accordionist accompanied by the woman, now with a wooden flute. Another man, almost bald but with a bushy grey beard, sang the verses in his rich Irish baritone, and everyone joined in the plaintive chorus.
Kara smiled. "This is one of my favourites. I love it."
He put his hand over hers, stroking it with his thumb. "Me, too. It's a beautiful tune that echoes the sadness of the words."
More songs followed, haunting laments and slow airs, until someone called out, "Gi' us
Danny Boy
."
Several couples were already dancing in the open area near the bar, and he squeezed Kara's shoulder. "C'mon, we can't sit this one out."
The truth was he longed to wrap his arms around her and feel her slim body against his, and he stood and held out his hand to her.
She laughed. "At least this won't involve any complicated footwork."
Once they reached a corner of the open area, he slipped his arms around her waist, and she brought her hands up to his shoulders. He leant forward until his cheek touched hers, and they swayed on the spot as the woman sang the words in her clear Irish voice:
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an 'Ave' there for me.
"Think all our Irish songs are about dying, or fighting," he whispered in her ear.
She chuckled. "Or getting drunk."
"Aye, that, too."
He stopped as a tall man, with short-cropped fair hair, entered the bar. He was smartly dressed in a grey suit with an open-necked blue shirt, and Ryan couldn't stop himself from turning to see where he was heading, even though his sixth sense already told him.