Drowning in the East River (24 page)

"Would you be angry if I asked why?"

"Embarrassment?" David asked, directing the rhetorical question to himself. "Hell, I'm not even sure my sisters-in-law would let me see Thomas right now."

"Why do you say that?" Jacqueline asked. She pulled her hair up off her neck in quick up-do. She looked up at him, curiously. "Did you do something for that to happen?"

"Nothing like that," David replied. He rolled over and grabbed his pack of cigarettes from her bedside table. Grabbing a book of matches, he rolled onto his back and lit the cigarette with steady fingers. "I was really broken, and I left Thomas with my wife's sisters. They seemed to think I was handling the situation incorrectly and running out on my son."

Outside, the sun coming up over Dublin seemed like a dim lightbulb in the sky, providing light, but little warmth for the frigid city below.

Jacqueline turned towards David. "I'm sure you did the best thing for him at the time."

"I just didn't feel like I could give him what he needed." David replied. He could feel a weight sitting on his chest.

"Were you in Europe?" She asked, changing the subject after a brief pause. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes, which were sitting on her make-up table. She stood up and crossed the room. She sat down next to him on the bed.

"France..."

"Mustard gas?" Jacqueline asked. She ran a gentle finger over his scars. She slowly exhaled a lungful of smoke as she looked over his body. After a moment, she sat back in bed, hiking her knees up to her chest as she continued. "I did some time as a nurse during the war. That must have been awful."

"We bailed out of the trench, or it would have been much worse."

"I can't even comprehend," Jacqueline said, her voice trailing off softly as she ran her fingers gently over the burn scars lining his back. "That must have been terrifying. I saw the after-effects, but I didn't have to run straight into no man's land."

"When you're functioning purely on adrenaline, the body is capable of doing some strange things," David said. He took a long drag on the cigarette. "I wish I could get that same high now. Maybe I could face this all with a little more courage."

Jacqueline sat back and recrossed her legs. "I would say you have been courageous."

"I don't feel like it." David replied, exhaling sharply.

"Bravery and courage aren't the same thing in my mind," she said. The words came quickly, and naturally. By the sound of it, this was a matter she had thought a great deal about. "You don't have to be brave in order to be courageous."

"You should just run away from me," David said, pulling his shirt back over his shoulders. "Far away."

"Explain," Jacqueline said, sitting up abruptly. She ran her fingers through his hair, her lips pursed slightly. "Why should I?"

"I told you, I'm broken," David said. As he continued, his voice was suddenly distant and unemotional. He shifted his eyes away from her, locking his glance on a spot across from the room, suddenly afraid of her seeing the emotion he could feel creeping into his expression. "I'm an awful, broken, unfit excuse for a man. Everyone who comes close to me seems to end up worse for wear."

"I'm sure that's an exaggeration."

David shook his head. "No. It's not it at all. That's the thing."

Jacqueline studied him with a scrutinizing eye as she combed her out-of-control hair.

"My wif- Jessica, my mother, my father..." David said. He grabbed his tie and quickly began to adjust it around his neck, tying it into a quick knot. "It feels like everyone who I have ever been close to can't seem to stay alive."

"That isn't your fault," Jacqueline replied. She turned to look at him. She paused for a moment as she slid her locket back around her neck. "You can't blame yourself for any of that."

"The only thing everything has in common is me." David turned around, and met her eye contact. He tapped out his cigarette in the ash tray she kept on the bedside table. "And I think the worst thing is, I can feel myself turning into my father."

All the years of fighting with his drunken, broken, shell of a father had convinced him of one thing, he certainly wasn't going to turn into the aging alcoholic he had been forced to watch destroy himself. He wasn't going to be the one to put his son or daughter through all of that pain.

"You did what you had to do."

"I just wanted to protect him," David said. He sat back down on the bed. He continued slowly, his words coming with surprising clarity despite the haze he had been floating in. "I didn't want him to go through everything I had too."

"That sounds courageous to me," she replied. Her voice was smooth and contemplative. She paused for a moment, letting her words hang over them in the stillness of the room before she spoke again. "Being willing to put yourself through everything you have so your son can have a good life..."

"Isn't it selfish?" David asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't believe so," Jacqueline replied. She paused once again, he could see her looking off at one of the many pictures which hung on the walls. She chuckled softly as she continued, shifting her glance back to him. "You don't strike me as the kind of man who would take the easy way out."

David shook his head.

"After all," she said. "You're still here. You're still alive."

"I won't lie," David said, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. "Ending things did cross my mind. It was back when I was really wallowing, but..."

"But... You didn't." She stopped speaking just long enough to light herself another cigarette. She took a long drag as she quickly ran through her thoughts in her head. She stared at him as she continued. Her eyes were gentle, but prying. "You could have easily taken a swan dive off the

Brooklyn Bridge, but something stopped you..."

"My son," David replied. "I didn't want him to...loose both parents." His voice stammered slightly, searching for the right words.

"You want to go back to him then?" Jacqueline asked.

David stammered as he contemplated an answer. “I-- I do. I don't know how long all of this will take, but I need to redeem myself. I'm just not sure what has to happen for me to do that."

"I know it's not my place," Jacqueline began. Her eyes took in every inch of him, positively dripping with seduction. Her voice dropped a breath octave as she continued. “If there is ever anything I can do to help you figure that out…."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jacqueline reached down and swallowed David's hand in her's. They were standing in front of an old factory on Merchant Street, during the week the building functioned as a grain silo.

David remembered seeing the large freight elevator as he walked down this street on his arrival in Dublin a few weeks before. It seemed so out of place on the long block of row houses.

"I'm hoping you'll like everyone," Jacqueline said, looping her arm through his in a subtle gesture of support. It felt almost protective. As he looked over at her, David could see her eyes scanning the sidewalk in front of them as they moved towards the front door.

"I'm sure I will," David said, licking his dry lips once again. They were quickly getting chapped from the cold and unrelenting wind. The bitter air had the smell of approaching snow blowing in from over the North Sea. The sun hung high in the sky, but it's dull light provided no warmth.

"How long have you known these guys?" David asked, holding the narrow door into the building open for Jacqueline to enter. He coughed as his nasal cavity was hit squarely by the musty smell and pulsating heat of the hard working radiator. As he stepped inside, he tried to shake the cold out of his aching joints.

"A long time," Jacqueline replied, unbuttoning her coat. As she spoke, her eyes searched the room. "I think you'll like Aidan. He's a good mate. Probably one of the few I'd trust if things get tight."

David had been enjoying the last few weeks more than he had for the previous six months. With time away from the ship, David found himself living with Jacqueline, and they had spent much of their time having sex and simply talking.

Their bond had encouraged Jacqueline to bring him into the inner sanctum of her life. The group of men had been by her side since her husband was killed. In entering that factory, she was introducing him to the real her.

They entered a long, windowless cavern on the third floor of the building. The walls were sparsely decorated with propaganda posters. They maneuvered through mountains of grain and oats which were piled almost floor to ceiling in the store room. Towards the far end, a simple sitting room had been set-up. People were sprawled on simple furniture, a low cloud of smoke hovered in the air.

A group of five people were huddled together in the sitting area, fully immersed in a quiet conversation. David tucked his hands in his pockets as they walked up. He exhaled steadily, hoping to hide the nervousness he could feel building in his body language.

As he stepped further into the room, he could see a collage of maps tacked up on the far wall. From where he stood, he could just make out a crude sketch of the complicated maze of streets in downtown Dublin. He could see locations circled in deep red crayon, notes were hastily scrawled in Irish. Strings connected the various maps.

Jacqueline braced her hand on the small of his back, pulling his attention back to her. She paused for a moment and raised her chin up to his ear, whispering gently, "They'll love you. You'll do fine."

The moment was enough to announce their presence to the rest of the group. "Look at what they cat dragged in!" One of the men announced boisterously, pushing himself up to his feet.

A gangly man stepped out from group, a big smile on his face. He brushed a strand of his curly, dark brown hair out of his lined green eyes and wrapped a familiar arm around Jacqueline's waist. They exchanged a familiar embrace as he spoke. "We were beginning to think they got to you. You've been lying pretty low." He paused for a moment before turning to David, offering his hand.

"Aidan." Aidan Delaney looked to be a few years older than David. He had a soft face, his cheeks covered with a two day beard.

"David Freeman," David said, starting to feel at ease in the friendly environment. "Good to meet you."

"I've had the Cairo Gang on me for weeks." Jacqueline replied, stopping to take a drag of her own cigarette. Her voice was calm, a hint of sarcasm thinly veiled in her tone. She dislodged her wide brimmed, lilac hat from her head and draped it over a hatrack. Letting her cigarette dangle between her lips, she quickly tucked a stray strand of hair back up into her bun. She smiled as she continued, "I had to ensure I was playing the pained widow card. They don't seem to believe that I'm just living the quiet life of abstinent reflection."

Aidan turned, sizing David up like competition. "And how do you two know each other?" He had deep set green eyes which scanned David top to bottom. For the first time, the light caught a deep scar which cut across his face, just under his eye. He raised a curious eyebrow as a slow smile spread across his face.

"Consider him a new recruit," Jacqueline said, pulling David up next to her. She wrapped her arm around his waist, making it more than clear that he was to be considered part of the inner sanctum. "David's been keeping me company while I've been laying low."

"Abstinent reflection?" Aidan asked.

"You could say that," David replied. A subtle smile spread across his face, uncontrollable in the thick atmosphere of the room. He glanced over at Jacqueline, who was fully engaged in a quiet conversation with the only other woman in the room.

“You're American," the other girl said, looking up from where she was curled up on a ratty sofa. She stabbed out her cigarette in an ash tray as she stood up and crossed toward him, offering her hand as well. “Alice Feeney.”