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Spring's Promise (Heart of Ireland Book 1)

By Marion Ueckermann

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Friday, 24 March 1972 – Belfast, Northern Ireland

IS THERE life before death?
Ryann Doyle slipped the white chalk into his coat pocket, took a step back and surveyed his handiwork. The writing now splayed across the gray wall enclosing Milltown Cemetery bore testament to his inner turmoil. But it wasn’t the remembrance of those killed seven months ago that twisted his gut tighter than the shipyard landing ropes he passed every day on his way to work. Sure, bile still rose in his throat at the bitter memories of the Ballymurphy Massacre—he’d lost two good friends that bloody Sunday. Regardless, nothing justified killing and maiming innocent people. Living between continual retaliation, the ongoing fight between Republicans and Loyalists, was no life at all. Constant clashes of color—orange and green pitted against red and blue—white the only common hue. Yet it signaled no peace, no truce, no surrender.
The latest casualties? Four dead, a hundred and forty-eight injured.
When the Provisional Irish Republican Army, PIRA, took responsibility yesterday afternoon for Monday’s Donegall Street bombing, Ryann had little doubt his younger brother was involved.
Like an October wind, Declan had torn through the house late Monday night. Ryann hadn’t seen him since. Three days of not knowing the extent of trouble his sibling was in gnawed at him.
Ryann pulled the hood of his jacket over his head to stave off the early morning drizzle, took one more look at his artwork and made his way inside the cemetery, one thought on his mind…
Will I taste life before I die?

***

The week had dawned with pandemonium at Royal Victoria Hospital. With so many blast victims, Olivia O’Hare wasn’t sure when life would return to normal. She’d barely sat down for lunch on Monday when the first of the ambulances arrived at Accident & Emergency. She had barely eaten or slept since. Tonight she’d make her way home at last, soak in a hot bath, and steer her thoughts in the direction of the lives they’d saved over the past four days, not focusing on those who were lost or maimed.
She couldn’t wait to see her dad. He always brought a smile to her face. No small wonder he was such a great politician. Dad had a way with people. But despite his charisma, the Lord Mayor of Belfast was only able to please half the people of their city, most of the time.
Taking care, Olivia unwrapped the dressings on her patient’s leg. She sucked in a deep breath and turned to the nurse beside her. “I gave strict instructions for these wounds to be bathed and dressed three times a day.” She kept her voice low, but it was impossible to keep the edge from it—her orders had not been followed, putting the patient’s life at risk.
“When last were these dressings changed?” Olivia flipped open the patient’s file and scanned the contents, her brow furrowing. She turned back to the nurse. “Not since yesterday morning? Do you want this man to get infection and die?”
Her whispered frenzy had more to do with her own fatigue than the patient’s well-being. No doubt the nursing staff was as spent as she.
“N–no, doctor. I–I’m so sorry. I’ll get on it right away. ’Tis just— There’ve been too many wounded, not enough nurses…”
Olivia closed the file. She rubbed her temples and sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you’re all doing your best.”
The nurse gave a weak smile. “You’re all right now, Doctor O’Hare, ’tis the tiredness talking, not you.” She ventured a gentle touch to Olivia’s shoulder. “When last were you home?”
“Monday morning…early.”
“Go home, doctor. Get some rest. The worst is over.”
Olivia nodded. She did need to get home. Another hour in the hospital and she’d be no good to anyone. Who knew what crises tomorrow might bring? Another bombing? Another riot? More broken, bloodied people?
Weary, Olivia dragged her feet all the way to the staff cloakrooms, stopping first at her office to fetch the set of clean clothes she kept for emergencies. A quick shower should wake her up. Then she’d head home.
It felt good to step out of the building—the first time in days—showered and fresh, even though the skies resembled a charcoal sketch. Cool air pinched Olivia’s cheeks as she walked across the asphalt parking lot near the main entrance to where she’d left her red Skoda. She opened the driver’s door and dropped onto the seat. Closing her eyes for a few minutes, she tried to shut out the horror of the last four days.
Gaining a measure of composure, she leaned forward, pushed the key into the ignition, and turned it. Her car remained as dead as Monday’s four fatalities.
This is all I need.

***

Thankfully he’d taken the day off work. It would be worth the wages forfeited. He needed to think. Clear his head.
Stroking his fingers across the headstone, Ryann traced the bare facts. Mary Doyle, 24 March 1922 – 3 July 1970.
“I miss you, Mum. Life has become harder since you passed on. Every day Da looks deeper into the bottle, seeking a place to drown his sorrows, while Declan strengthens his ties with PIRA. Stupid boy. A futile attempt to avenge your death, don’t you think?”
Thrust into a world of both mother and father, Ryann had been left to walk the tightrope between the two roles as he tried to keep their family from falling apart.
“Da’s ungrateful that I put his drunken body to bed at night. Declan cannot understand why I refuse to join the cause and take up arms against the Loyalists. You’d always taught us the Ten Commandments, Mum. Thou shalt not kill.” He let out a weighted sigh and tugged at the grass attempting to grow over the small cement block that marked his mother’s final resting place. “They’re both so absorbed in their own misery and anger, they can’t see how hard I work to provide for them. Dad drinks away any money, and Declan blows his sky-high.”
Ryann gazed across the graveyard. Yellow daffodils sprouted from their grassy beds, heralding the changing season.
He rose from where he knelt beside the simple grave. “Thanks for listening, Mum.” He turned to leave then stopped and took a last glance back. “Happy birthday, Mum.”
On his way out of the cemetery, his earlier artwork demanded his attention. Is there life before death? There had to be. If not, what was all this for?
He’d check Royal Victoria Hospital first. Declan could’ve been injured in the blast. His younger brother had whooshed in and out the house so fast Monday night, Ryann couldn’t have known if he’d been hurt or not. But if he had, Royal Vic is the place he would’ve gone. He should’ve checked the hospitals earlier but had pushed the idea aside. He didn’t want to consider the possibilities—Declan hurt, or worse, in police custody. That’s why he’d needed to talk to his mum. She always seemed to help him find direction and clarity, even after she was gone.
It was hard not to notice the red Skoda with its hood up in the hospital parking lot. However, it wasn’t the vibrant color of the vehicle that held Ryann’s attention as he ventured closer. The leggy jean-clad woman peering inside the engine had him intrigued.
“Would you be needing some help there now, miss?”
As she snapped to attention, her head collided with the car’s hood.
Ryann cringed at the dull thud. That had to hurt somewhat. But if it did, she didn’t show it.
“To be sure, kind sir, you’re an angel sent straight from heaven.”
He watched her dark hair swirl as she turned around, and in that moment Ryann was certain of two things—this was a voice he could listen to for the rest of his life, and her face would mirror the loveliness of her voice.
He wasn’t wrong.
Swallowing the lump that had rendered him speechless, Ryann watched her brush the long, dark strands from her face with the back of her hand. A black smudge left its mark across her right cheek. He smiled. Should he tell her?
“What’s the problem?” he asked, finding his voice.
“My car won’t start.” Noticing the grease on her right hand, she dug in her jeans pocket, pulled out a tissue and began to clean it off.
“You’ve a spot on your cheek, too.” Ryann pointed at the smudge.
She wiped her cheek with her hand, wrinkling her nose as she gazed at the grease now on her fingers. “Is it gone?”
Mesmerized by the gray-blue eyes that waited for an answer, Ryann cared little whether her voice was tinged with orange and green, or red and blue. Color had entered the gray shrapnel of his world.
“Is it gone?” she asked again.
Ryann took the tissue from her hand, wiped away the rest of the smudge then pocketed the soiled paper in his jacket. “Aye, ’tis gone now.”
He stepped up to the car, and ducked under the hood. What was he thinking? Eejit. It wasn’t hard to see she belonged to another world.
Peering inside the engine, he checked the battery, fuses and wiring. “I don’t see any problems here.” He emerged from beneath the hood. “Do you mind if I try to start her?”
“Not at all.”
He nodded and stuck out his hand. “I’m Ryann, by the way. Ryann Doyle.”
Her smile was wide and welcoming as she reciprocated. “Olivia.”
As their hands touched, Ryann felt something he hadn’t before, and he knew the answer to his early morning graffiti. Yes! A resounding yes.
“What brings you through the hospital parking lot? Visiting someone?”
He shook his head. “Looking for someone.”
“Who?”
Ryann remained silent and dropped his gaze to their hands, still entwined in greeting. For him it felt like so much more—a kiss of their fingers.
Her eyes followed his, and she withdrew.
He hid his disappointment with a low chuckle. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Goes with the job, I guess.”
Ryann walked around the car, opened the door and sat down in the driver’s seat. “What’s the job?”
She laughed. “Now who’s asking the questions?” Leaning against the open door, she peered at Ryann. “I’m a doctor.”
“Here at Royal Vic?” Eejit. Of course here at Royal Victoria—her car was in their parking lot.
Her smile was filled with grace. “Yes.”
“I guess you’ve had a busy week then? Dreadful business at Donegall Street.”
“I haven’t been home since Monday morning.”
“A whole week at work? You must be exhausted.”
Olivia nodded. “You could say so.”
Ryann turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. “Well, that explains it then. The battery’s probably flat from standing.”
The look on her face spoke volumes.
“Now then, don’t worry. To be sure ’tis nothing a push can’t fix. Here now, you jump inside, put her into first gear and keep your foot on the clutch. When I tell you, slowly let out the clutch and press lightly on the petrol. She should start.”
Ryann climbed out and Olivia slipped into the driver’s seat.
He disappeared around the back of the car.
“Where are you going?” she called out the window.
Ryann laughed. “Somebody has to push.”
He was thankful the car took before they ran out of parking lot. He wouldn’t have wanted the Skoda to land up halfway down the street.
“Just let her idle for a minute—” Should he call her doctor, or Olivia? He decided on neither. “Then you can be on your way home. Just don’t turn her off until she’s had a good run.”
Olivia looked up at Ryann. “How can I ever thank you?”
“No need to. Just being chivalrous and helping a lady in distress.”
“Ryann Doyle, you’ll never know just how much. By the way, who are you looking for at the hospital? Maybe I can help.”
Palms on the door, Ryann leaned in closer to the open window. “And risk your car not starting again? I don’t think so. You’re staying put in that Skoda until you get home.”
“Still, I might recognize a name.”
“You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
Olivia grinned.
“’Tis my younger brother…he’s been missing since Monday.”
“You think he got caught in the bomb blast?”
Ryann shrugged. More likely to have caused the blast.
“What’s his name?”
Should he give her Declan’s name?
“Declan Doyle. He’s twenty-two.” Somehow Ryann felt he could trust this woman.
“Can’t say I recall the name, but we were dealing with a lot of patients. Is he as fine looking as you?”
Ryann lowered his gaze and scratched the back of his head as he stared at the asphalt. If this could go anywhere, he’d flirt right back.
“My brother and I couldn’t be more different.”
“So you’re saying your brother is fair, short and ugly with cold blue eyes?”
“No…”
Olivia placed her hand on Ryann’s arm. “Don’t mind me, I’m just messing with your head. After the week I’ve had, I needed to relax and be silly, even if only for a few moments.” She patted his arm before gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “You’re a good man, Ryann Doyle. I pray you find your brother. And I do hope I see you around again sometime.”
“Sure.” Ryann stepped back and watched as Olivia drove away.
The Skoda stopped before making its way onto the tarred road. She stuck her head out the window. “Tell them at reception Doctor O’Hare sent you, and they’re to give you all the assistance you need. If your brother’s there, or been there, they’ll find him for you, though it’s possible he might’ve been taken to Belfast City Hospital. Half the injured went there.”
“I’ll be sure to try there, too. Thank you, Doctor Olivia O’Hare.”
“Olivia will do just fine.”
Ryann tipped his head then pivoted, not wanting to see her go. By the time he entered the main hospital building, he still hadn’t heard her car drive away. Was she as reluctant to leave as he? He daren’t turn around to check.

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