Rosewater and Soda Bread (17 page)

“What's wrong? What happened?”

Marjan stepped onto the landing. She could hear the television upstairs. “Nothing. I just need her for something.”

She placed her hand on the banister and was about to turn when a knock came on the back door.

Bahar stopped chopping again. “Marjan.” She put down her knife and craned her neck to the stained-glass partition. “It's a man.”

Marjan made her way back down and to the door. After a moment's glance, she recognized the face behind the colored glass: it was Padraig Carey, from the town council.

Layla bounded down the steps, stopping short when she saw her sisters. “Hey, isn't that the councilman? What does he want?”

“I don't know,” said Marjan. “Maybe he's here about that license extension. I applied for it last month, remember?”

She reached for the door handle. “For goodness' sakes, Bahar. Don't look so frightened.”

PADRAIG CAREY LEANED over the wooden island, staring curiously at a jar of mixed
torshi
. “Looks like your vegetables need a bit longer in the pot,” he remarked, tapping the glass with his finger.

“They're pickled.
Torshi
” Marjan explained. “Margaret's thinking of putting it on the pub menu, you know.”

Padraig looked shocked. “She's getting to be very cosmopolitan, my wife.”

“She's a very smart woman,” replied Marjan. It was no secret that Padraig was often referred to as Margaret McGuire's Little Big Man. An apt description, considering the councilman's many shortcomings. She made her way to a stack of clear tea glasses. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”

Padraig raised his briefcase to his chest. “No, no—thanks all the same, Marjan. No, I'm here on some town business.” He coughed, shifting from foot to foot as his eyes darted across the kitchen. He thought of throwing a perfunctory smile at the three women standing before him but decided against it. Best not send out the wrong signals, he told himself. Who knew how a smile could be translated. Especially by these dark-haired vixens. “Yes, town business it is,” he repeated.

“I thought so,” Marjan remarked. It was rare to see Padraig near the café. As far as she could remember, he had tried their lunch only once, on Margaret's fortieth birthday. “You've never come around the back before.”

Padraig let out a strained laugh. “You've got a point there, Marjan. You've got a point there, all right.”

He glanced at the counter, with its piles of pots and plates, washed and gleaming. It was the first time he had seen the café since the fire that had taken half its back wall two summers ago. The entire place was spotless, he marveled. It wasn't nearly the backward operation Thomas McGuire had claimed.

“Is it about the license? I think I filed all the proper papers.”

Padraig patted his briefcase. “Filed away all right. No problem there.” He turned to Marjan. “No, no, it's another sort of business I've come about.” He cleared his throat. “Concerning Mrs. Delmonico.”

Marjan looked apprehensively at her sisters. “Estelle?”

Padraig held out his palm. “Now, I wouldn't be here if it were not for the concern of a few folk. Personally, I see no point in stirring the breeze if there's no need for it.” He pressed his lips grimly. The council post had its perks, he thought, but this was not one of them.

Marjan nodded for him to go on.

“If it were up to me, you realize, I'd say we'd best look straight ahead, put the past behind us.”

“I understand,” said Marjan.

“I'm not so daft not to know there's not a whole world out there, filled with all sorts of creeds and colors. Sure, there's been more than once I've hoped for a tan myself, to be honest. Going dead white to pale would be a mighty improvement.” He broke into a grin at his own joke.

When Marjan did not respond, he coughed again, embarrassed, and pulled his short body up straighter. “But I have to ask all the same.”

“Of course. What is the problem, exactly?”

“The problem, the problem is the problem of a lawbreaking
exactly,” Padraig said with a sober expression. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small piece of scrap paper. “It's been brought to my attention that there's a patient up at Mayo General. A relative of Mrs. Delmonico's.” He squinted at the piece of paper. “A niece, is it?”

“Is Gloria here?” Layla piped up from the landing.

Marjan held out her hand behind her, shutting Layla up. “Her niece? I don't think so.” She paused. “I think Estelle would have told us if Gloria was in town,” she said, turning to her sisters with a nod. Their only response was confused stares.

“Well, then, who is this Rosa Bella?” Padraig consulted the paper again. “Yes, that's right, is it? Rosa Bella. Sources tell me she's been taking a bed at the hospital the last week. A friend of yours, then?”

“Marjan, what's going on?” Bahar's face was ghostly.

Marjan shrugged, trying to keep her voice as composed as possible. “I don't know,” she said, aware of her lie.

Her mind raced to her last visit to the hospital; one of the nurses had been very friendly with her, she remembered. Spent a few good minutes asking her about Iran and London.

She hadn't asked anything about the girl, though.

Padraig was waiting for an answer.

“I'm not sure I understand, Mr. Carey. Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Well, I'm not one to call out falsehoods, but to be fair, you have been seen coming in and out of Mayo General every day the last week. I've got an eyewitness that would vouch to your deliveries.”

“Yes, I've been taking meals up to one of the patients. It's not against the law, is it? Feeding someone?”

“It's not against the law, no, but holding information from officials is. This is Ireland, after all,” Padraig said pointedly. He paused for a moment before continuing. “Now, what can you tell me about this patient, this friend of yours?”

Marjan shook her head. “She's not a friend. I don't know anything about her, actually. Estelle—Mrs. Delmonico—and I, we just make an effort to visit the sick in our free time.” She made an effort to smile broadly. “It does Estelle good to get out and meet people. The hospital is a good place for her. We take food and give it out to patients, that's all.”

It was a stretch, but it seemed to appease the councilman. Perhaps it was because his thoughts began to move to the pot of saffron lamb shank softening on the Aga.

He took a long sniff and sighed. “Well, I'm glad to hear of it,” he replied. “Wouldn't want Estelle to fall into any kind of mess.”

He snapped his briefcase and nodded to Bahar and Layla. “Now if you tell me there's nothing to be concerned with, I'll leave it at that. Won't even bother Mrs. Delmonico or the hospital about it.”

Marjan nodded. “Of course.”

The councilman took a moment to formulate his question. “It's about this lass, now. This Ms. Rosa. The one you've been feeding, like.” He paused, squaring his gaze on Marjan. She nodded again, meeting his gaze head-on. She hoped he hadn't noticed that she had been holding her breath for the last minute. Padraig continued, “Is she or isn't she at this moment, while still at Mayo General, is she or isn't she with child? A child she tried to do away with, mind you. Against the law, and with her own two hands.” The councilman raised his eyebrows. “Otherwise known as abortion, Marjan. Abortion of a sacred child.”

“SO WHAT YOU'RE saying is, you lied. You lied about a law that was broken.” Bahar paced the space around the wooden island, wringing her forearms red.

“It wasn't broken. And I'm very aware that I lied. But I had no other choice, and you know it.” Marjan sat at the kitchen table, suddenly exhausted.

“Who is she, Marjan?” Layla asked.

“I don't know. No one does. She just appeared.”

“I can't believe you, I really can't.” Bahar swiveled abruptly on her heels. “Who cares who she is? She was trying to kill her baby.”

Layla frowned. “Go easy. You don't even know her.”

“I don't need to know her to know it's a sin.
Haram
, Marjan,” Bahar said, pinching the thumb and forefingers of both her hands to punctuate the word. “You remember what that means, don't you?”

Haram
, forbidden.

Marjan shook her head. “That's not for us to say. And it wouldn't have done any good if the guards went up to the hospital. It wouldn't have changed anything.”

“Of course it would. If someone breaks the law, they have to pay for it.”

Layla threw Bahar a look of disgust before turning back to Marjan. “Can we visit her?”

“No—maybe later. Obviously people are talking in the hospital.”

Bahar huffed, her hands on her hips. “Great, just great. How do you think I'm going to feel, walking down the street, going into shops, doing all those errands you've got me running on, with everyone chattering about this? Everyone will know you've lied!” Her voice was at its highest pitch.

“Since when do you care what everyone around here thinks?” Layla asked, with marked sarcasm.

“Wait, Layla.” Marjan held up her hand as she got up from the table. She went over to Bahar, who had propped herself
against the sink, her shoulders trembling from a mixture of fear and fury.

Marjan took her sister's cold hands in hers. She looked into her sister's heart-shaped face, her own expression softening. “Bahar.”

“What?”

“Can you please look at me?”

Bahar shifted her gaze to Marjan. Her pupils were as large as her dark brown eyes. Marjan rubbed her sister's hands, pausing for a moment. “I need your promise, Bahar. Both of you.”

“Promise? What promise?” Bahar's upper lip began to tremble.

“You have to promise me you're not going to tell anybody about this. No one is to know what she tried to do in the Bay. Do you understand?”

Bahar sniffed. “Too late. Everyone knows about it anyway.”

“We don't know that for sure,” Marjan said, with studied patience. “It won't do anybody any good if we acknowledge the gossip, now, will it?”

“Can't I tell Malachy?”

“Not even Malachy. All right?” Marjan gave Layla a knowing glance. She'd have to deal with Malachy and Layla later, she told herself. After she sorted Estelle out.

Her mind began to swim with everything that needed to be done.

Layla nodded. “I've got some clothes you could take up to her,” she offered.

“That's a great idea.” Marjan turned back to Bahar. “Bahar? Not a word, okay?”

Bahar stared straight ahead again.

“Bahar?”

“What? What do you want?”

“I want to know that you won't tell anyone. I want you to understand
that I kept this from you because I thought it was the best thing to do.”

Bahar turned her eyes back to Marjan's. They had a cold, steely glare. “I don't understand,” she said. “I don't understand who this person is, why she's someone you and Estelle need to protect. I don't understand why I'm always the last one to know about anything.”

She took her hands out of Marjan's. “And it's still a sin. Even if I don't talk about it.”

She pushed past her sisters and out of the kitchen, the double doors flapping hollowly behind her.

THE WHEELCHAIR WHEELS crunched easily up the gravel walk, arriving smoothly at the cottage door thanks to Dr. Parshaw's exertions. A minute later they were stationed next to Mrs. Del-monico's linen couch, near a side table holding a bowl of fruity bonbons.