Drowning in the East River (26 page)

"Wanna join us?" Aidan asked, flashing David a curious grin. "If that girl considers you a friend, that's good enough for me.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Putting the key into the lock of Aidan's tiny row house, David could hear the sound of muffled conversation from the dining room. The main floor felt claustrophobic, much like the old apartments in Manhattan. The room was dark, lit only by the little sunshine able to squeeze through the porthole of a front window. Draping his coat over the rack, David moved deeper into the narrow room. "Hello!" He called out, listening for signs of life.

Besides the small factory, the house served as the group's headquarters. It was one of a number of identical buildings on an easily forgotten block, a few minutes walk from the shipyard. "A good hiding place," as Jacqueline had called it when she had led him to it for the first time.

The front door opened straight into a tiny living space, just large enough for a small sofa and radio tucked into the corner of the room. A half-finished cup of tea sat on the coffee table, while a newspaper was draped over the arm of the sofa. The decorating scheme was minimalist. The walls were painted a simple cream color, a few nondescript pictures lined the walls in simple frames.

David moved through the living room towards the small door leading to the cramped dining room in the back of the house. As he braced his hand on the knob, he stopped. The hushed conversation which had been barely audible had escalated in volume. He envisioned Jacqueline hunched over a map, engrossed in one of her many plans.

He knocked twice on the thin and hollow sounding door. It was the code.

A heavy male voice called out from the other side, "Come!"

David pushed open the door and stepped through into the kitchen and dining room. He was hit with a wave of humid air. Jacqueline huddled around the kitchen table with the small group of men. He didn't know all of them by name, but they were all part of her inner circle.

The setting sun was visible through the windows which overlooked the alley behind the house. They had already lit candles, which were spread around the room, casting just enough light to see by.

Jacqueline glanced over her shoulder with a smile as he stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him.  "Take a seat, David. We’re just getting started."

"Take your time," David said. He sat down in one of the dining room chairs which had been pushed against the back wall to make room for the group gathered around the table. He folded his arms and leaned back in the chair.

Aidan looked across the table, his cigarette hung loosely between his lips. He leaned over a makeshift map showing the English military encampments, small flags dotted the urban landscape. He gestured to a particularly dense grouping of flags. "The English have been moving into this area with greater frequency lately."

Jacqueline looked over the map. Her eyes shone with intensity as she glanced up at Aidan. "Do you think they are building their forces for something major?"

Another man, who David had heard called Callum, stood up from the chair where he was seated on the far side of the room. Callum brushed a strand of his thick chestnut hair out of his eyes as he moved towards the map. He spoke quietly, in a rough Irish accent. "I have people telling me that the English are building up to smother and take down the insurgency efforts."

"They've tried that before," Jacqueline said, staring at the map configurations. David could see her eyes shooting across the spread, struggling to decipher the patterns in her non-military mind.

Aidan stabbed out his cigarette in the ash tray on the table. His movement was harsh and abrupt as he continued, "My brother mentioned that they've all been moving through the rural area outside of town. That would be the perfect spot to stage an operation."

"Operation?" David asked, sitting forward in his chair. He cracked his knuckles loudly. He stood up, and crossed the room to where the group huddled. He slid in next to Jacqueline, bracing a hand on the edge of the map as he continued. "What are you thinking?"

Aidan leaned over, pointing at a cluster of flags in a wooded area on the map. "They always utilize this road here. It's actually a very poor decision. It's a wide open road, with lots of overgrown foliage on either side. We could hit them from here, and they would hardly be the wiser."

David dug into his pocket and pulled out his packet of cigarettes.

"Let's do it," Jacqueline said, staring at the map. She held a drink in one hand, her other on her hip. Her hands were unnervingly steady.

As he lit his cigarette, David looked down at his own hands trembling.

"How are we doing this morning?" The nurse said, walking by his bed. She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to adjust her headdress. She spoke is slightly broken English, her French accent poking noticeably through as she gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. She smiled softly as she continued, looking him up and down. "You seem to be getting a little more color in your cheeks."

David strained to raise his head off the pillow. Outside the window, the sun was starting to come up over Paris."I don't feel much better." A shiver rippled through his muscles, "Why is it so cold?"

The nurse dug in her apron. "Let's see..."

David closed his eyes as she settled for running a smooth hand over his forehead."You still have a bit of a fever, but considering the shape you were brought in, I'd say you're doing much better."

Looking up at her, he finally had a good view of the girl who had been taking care of him for the last three months. Probably eighteen at the most, she had elegant, aristocratic features. She had striking caramel colored hair, which was always hidden underneath the nurses head wrap. It was a long, white cloth, reminding him of the nuns back home. She had a full, curvy figure, which was hidden under the loose fitting white dress and apron. "I don't feel much better." He said, dropping his head back onto his pillow.

"You're going to bounce back," she said, checking the bandages which were covering his arms. After a moment, she sat back and looked him over with a scrutinizing eye."Your body has been through some major trauma. It's just going to take a little while. You can't expect to simply get better overnight."

"What's going through your head?" Jacqueline walked into the library after him. She sized David up, her hands on her hips. Jacqueline pulled the door shut behind her as she stepped further into the room. Her voice dropped to a non-threatening whisper. "You know you can talk to me. You left the room a little too quick.”

David shrugged in response, taking a swig of the drink he had just poured himself. He stared at the floor in front of him, deliberately avoiding her dissecting gaze. He gently swirled the bourbon around in its glass. He bit his lip as he sat down in one of the chairs, the earlier conversation playing on a loop in his head.

The clack of her heels echoed on the floor as she circled around the room, gingerly getting to her knees in front of him. "Are you all right?" Jacqueline asked, resting a gentle hand on the inside of his thigh. She looked into his eyes, her's soft and wide. Her voice was soft as she continued. "I'm sorry you had to hear all of that."

When he didn't respond, she ran a soft hand down his cheek. She gently hiked her skirt up around her thighs, straddling him on the chair. Her voice was gentle, but there was an almost sobering note of realism present. She braced her hand around the back of his neck, staring into his eyes as she continued. "I do care for you, David. I want you in my life, but this is something I need to do."

He looked up into her eyes, for the first time making eye contact with her. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling down his cheek. He broke eye contact, glancing passed her to the floor to ceiling bookshelf lining the far wall. His voice cracked as he continued. “Do you really have to go about it that way?"

Jacqueline stood up abruptly, and moved towards the bar in the corner of the room. She continued as she poured herself a drink. "You were the one with the little Moran girl when she died. I would have thought that you would be the one person who would understand what we have to do." Her voice had a hard edge. He had insulted her.

David sat forward. He took a deep breath, struggling to keep his tone in check. "Doesn't this type of warfare make you just as guilty as those troops?"

Jacqueline pursed her lips and dropped into a couch. She looked over at him as she took a deep sip of brandy as she continued. "I'm surprised your view of everything is so black and white. Did serving in France really not show you that nothing is so simple..."

"You sound like Jessica," David said, cutting in with a soft chuckle. He shifted in his chair, and glanced up into her eyes, which were staring at him intently.

"Good," Jacqueline replied. She cracked a smile as she ran a hand through his hair. Her voice was a gentle as she continued. "She sounds like a good sort."

"She was," David replied. He stood up and moved towards the bar once again. He refilled the brandy. David turned around, looking over Jacqueline. After a moment, he came to his decision. His voice trembled as he spoke. "What do you need from me?"

"You don't have to do anything," Jacqueline said. She walked over to where he was standing, resting a gentle hand on his forearm. She looked him straight in the eye, making sure he heard her. "Honestly."

"I know," David replied. He reached up and gave her hand a gentle squeeze and forced out a centering breath. He glanced towards the kitchen and ran his fingers through his hair. He spoke slowly, thinking through his words carefully. "I won't lie, the thought of this scares me to death, but I wouldn't be here if I didn't want too.”

Jacqueline ran her hand down his bicep, seemingly convinced. “You’re sure?”

David nodded, biting his lip. “Yup. I’m not sure how I can help, but I want to try.”

“Good,” Jacqueline said, a smile spreading across her lips. She ran her fingers down his jaw, ruffling the scruff which spread across his cheeks. “That’s what I hoped you would say.”

“I’m sorry,” David replied, collecting himself. He ran his fingers through his unruly hair as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” David asked, looking down at the squirming baby in her arms. “What do I need to do?”

“Come here,” Jessica said, a tired smile spreading across her face as she looked up at him. A few days had passed, but she still looked wan and pale. She patted the mattress next to her. “Sit with me. Hold your son.”

David slowly crossed from the door, and gently sat next to her. Outside the window, he could see the sky turning pink with the setting sun between the buildings. Looking down at Thomas, the baby stared up at his mother with wide, but content green eyes. He felt his muscles tighten. “He looks fine with you.”

Jessica laughed, “Will you stop being scared? I need to shift, and can’t do it with him in my hands.” Hoisting the tiny figure up against her chest, she pulled the strap of her silk nightgown higher on her shoulder. “I swear, for a man who was in the trenches, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be scared of a baby.”

David looked down at the baby as Jessica passed the small bundle over to him. He didn’t respond, because it sounded foolish in his head as well.

“You look so uncomfortable,” Jessica said, adjusting Thomas’ head under David’s elbow. Jarred by the sudden movement, the baby started to squirm in his arms. As she looked at the two of them, “Loosen up your grip on him, sweetie. You won’t drop him.”

“He’s beautiful,” David said, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked up at Jessica. Every muscle in his body felt tight, petrified at the thought of dropping the tiny bundle. “He looks just like you.”

“You must be blind,” Jessica replied, stretching out her back. “He’s going to look exactly like you when he grows up. I’ll take him back if you want.”