Free The Delaney Woman by Jeanette Baker

like?”
    â€œTea, please.” The shop was empty and the woman looked ready to burst with what she had been about to say. “My name is Kellie Delaney. Would you like to share a pot with me?”
    â€œIrene Donaldson here, and I’d love to.”
    When they were settled across from each other with a pot of steaming tea between them, Irene spoke up. “I thought you were Claire Whelan. The two of you could be sisters, but now I see that you’re not that similar after all.”
    â€œWhat was she like?”
    â€œLovely to look at,” Irene said promptly, “but she wasn’t so lovely in other ways. She was very hard- headed so it was difficult to be her friend, even when Tom was in the Maze.” Irene shook her head. “We prayed for her down there in that English prison. Her mam, bless her soul, lit a candle every day and bought Masses so she’d be treated right. When Mrs. Whelan brought back the little girl, there wasn’t a dry eye in town. We never forgot it.”
    Kellie’s cheeks burned. “Why was Tom in the Maze?”
    â€œThey were rounding everyone up in those days, anyone connected at all. I don’t believe Tom Whelan was a saint, but he wasn’t as bad as some of them.”
    â€œWhere is his wife?”
    â€œShe’s in Maidenstone Prison in England.” Irene’s voice dropped and she spoke in a hushed whisper. “She was sent up for the murder of an Englishman, a fancy lord. They gave her a life sentence. She hasn’t seen her husband or daughter in seven years.”
    â€œWhy not? Prisons allow visitors.”
    â€œI don’t think she and Tom are married any more. He didn’t approve of her activities. Tom came back from the Maze a changed man. All the spirit was beaten out of him, along with the hate. I don’t think Tom Whelan could hate anyone again.”
    Either that or he was a very good actor. Kellie changed the subject. “What time does the hardware open?”
    â€œGeary’s always opens at half past nine,” said Irene. “He’s regular as clockwork.” She laughed. “Unusual for an Irishman, but then the store is as well. You’ll see when you go inside.” She gathered their cups, brushed the sugar from the table and stood. “Thanks for the chat but I’d better be getting back to work. I’ll be starting the lunch stew in the back. There’s no charge for the tea. Let me know if you need anything else.”
    â€œI will. Thank you for the tea and the conversation.”
    â€œMy pleasure.”
    Alone again, Kellie stared out of the window. Slowly, Banburren came alive. Trucks stopped in front of shops and unloaded their wares, completely oblivious to the traffic backing up behind them. Peat smoke drifted from chimneys, gray against a grayer sky. Women brandishing umbrellas and men in wool caps nodded, called out and stopped each other on the streets. Meaty smells wafted from pubs offering luncheon specials. Diligent clerks washed windows, set out menus written in chalk and swept porches clean.
    Kellie was enchanted with the normalcy of a small Irish village readying itself for a normal day. It was so safe, so sane.
    â€œI’ll be off now,” she called out to Irene.
    The woman popped her head over the swinging door. “Don’t be a stranger,” she said.
    Kellie smiled. “Thank you for the welcome, Irene. It means a great deal to me.”
    Irene blushed. “Go along now. I’ve work to do.”
    Geary’s Hardware was like nothing Kellie had ever seen in Ireland. More warehouse than store, it was an organizational miracle arranged thematically, with garden supplies on one end and raw lumber on the other and rows and rows in between.
    An older man with a blue apron approached. “May I help you, miss?”
    Kellie tilted her head so the hair swung across her cheek. “I’m looking for bookshelves and a