Stone of the Heart

The Tea

She spared him having to attend the actual religious service but he was no less wary of the upcoming social event. He arrived at the address she had given him at the appointed time, a small brick house at the end of a lane, children spilling out onto the garden. Michael walked up the steps holding a box of chocolates and feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He had the same sort of pit in his stomach as he had picking up his first date when he was sixteen, a vastly different circumstance he thought to himself.

Fiona appeared at the door hardly looking like herself. Michael's eyes widened in surprise as he noted her outfit: a pink floral dress gathered at the waist, a pair of sensible pumps replacing her usual combat boots, or stilettos, depending on the task at hand, her hair a soft mass of curls. Michael caught himself staring, "You look..."

Fiona finished the sentence for him "... Like a Stepford Wife. I know. But it makes me mam happy. I disappoint her in so many other ways, it's the least I can do. Chocolates? Good choice." She opened the door wider inviting him inside. As Michael stepped cross the threshold the cacophony that had been the Glenanne gathering ceased as all eyes turned toward the newly arrived. Michael had never felt so uncomfortable in his entire life, not even when he had been captured and interrogated by the FSB. Fiona broke the silence, "This is Michael. Michael, my family. I won't trouble you with all the names as you won't remember them anyway, and you've already met Sean, Bobby, and Declan." The three men nodded in acknowledgement.

Just then, an older woman emerged from the kitchen, all others moving out of her way as she made her way toward the couple. He could see a great deal of resemblance between mother and daughter. "Michael. So glad ya were able to join us." She extended her hand.

Michael greeted her, then presented her with the chocolates. "Appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Glenanne. Not often I get the pleasure of a fine meal." Her welcoming smile put him slightly at ease.

"Not if ya have been seein' m'inion dheas for a wee spot of time. Cooking isn't exactly yer strong suit now, is it, a stoirin?" She tilted her head in the direction of her daughter. Fiona did her best to remain expressionless while internally bristling at the comment. "Call me, Norah." She accepted the chocolates. "These look delicious. I'll set them aside before the wee ones get to them, shall I? Right, then. Fiona, get the man a drink. He looks like he may faint dead away."

Norah Glenanne could see the apprehensive look in the man's eyes. He looked like a lamb stepping into a lion's den, Fiona equally skittish. So, thought the woman, my wee girl has finally fallen in love. "Well, it's back to the kitchen for me or they'll be no tea for us this day." She winked at the couple her eyes lingering over her daughter's and retreated, leaving the couple awkwardly standing in the centre of the room.

Sean brought over a tumbler filled with whiskey. "Drink up, man. This should take the edge off, eh?" Michael accepted the drink gratefully. He usually wasn't one for hard liquor, but in this setting a strong drink might be just what he needed to survive the afternoon. "She must like ya, McBride. She actually smiled." He chuckled before returning to the corner where his brothers remained.

Alone once more, Fiona apologised for her mother's leering. "Sorry about that. I should have known if I brought ya here she'd likely be already drawing up the banns to be read at church next Sunday."

"You, two, get along?" Michael thought about his own troubled relationship with his mother.

"Well enough. I'm a bit of a disappoint, I suppose. She wants me to give all up the 'nonsense' I'm involved with and be surrounded by a brood of me own." Fiona looked wistful as she spoke the words.

"Is that what you want then? A family?" Michael tensed a bit awaiting her answer.

Fiona scoffed. "Don't worry. I won't be making any unholy alliances, Michael. Not sure I'm the maternal sort. Now if someone would drop a three or four year old on me doorstep, well then, I suppose I could be quite good at it. But babies... I don't have the patience or the inclination."

Her attention was drawn to one of her sister-in-laws on the opposite side of the room. She was heavily pregnant, trying to pacify a screaming toddler by offering up a soother, while another young child grabbed the bottom of her mother's dress to use as a serviette, wiping her jam encrusted mouth. Michael followed her gaze, shuddering at the scene before him. "Good to know." Michael smiled.

Fiona led the way as the two wandered about making conversation with assorted brothers, wives, nieces, and nephews. Michael would have preferred a hasty retreat as he was completely removed from his comfort zone. Bodies filled every crevice of the house. Good-natured banter volleyed between the women manning the kitchen and the husbands trying to watch the football match on the telly. Michael briefly thought about joining them but was fearful his knowledge of the sport would fall short under scrutiny so he remained fixed to Fiona's side. Meanwhile, small children skirted along the floor, some on their bellies, some on their knees, and some racing small cars. Michael had nearly stepped on several and was now plastered against the wall afraid to move. Surely, this was what hell was like, thought the American spy.

He glanced at Fiona who seemed completely unperturbed by the surrounding chaos. He wondered if he could feign illness. He suddenly longed for his own dysfunctional family gatherings: his father passed out on the sofa, his mother chain smoking in the kitchen pretending that all was normal, his brother, Nate, cowering in his room, while he sat on pins and needles waiting for whatever was to come. Suddenly, he became nostalgic for the quiet house on Shady Lane. Perhaps it wasn't so bad after all... at least compared to this!

Fiona could sense her partner's unease despite his forced smile. Just then a gaggle of pubescent nieces scuttled by giggling and making various audible comments about Aintin Fi's fella. "Well, they seem to like ya well enough."

"I prefer not to go to jail." Michael avoided all eye contact with the young women.

He turned toward Fiona who wrapped her arms around his waist. ""I suppose ya'll just have to make do with me then." Her smile drew him back to the reason that he was here in the first place. Her.

Eventually, Michael began to relax slightly. There was so much noise and movement throughout the small house that he felt he could fade into the background. He and Fiona found a quiet-ish corner once the obligatory visiting had been accomplished. Michael spotted a photograph loving placed in the centre of nearby table. "Is that your da, then?" She nodded as a wave of sadness passed over her.

The spy saw her reaction and was intending to switch to a more comfortable topic but Fiona began to explain. "We lost him last year. Sometimes, I forget that he's really gone." She stopped, a sad smile appearing. "He spent so much time in and out of remand, sometimes I forget he's not there."

"Donnelly said you two were close." Michael sensed that Fiona had more to say.

"I loved him and more that that I admired him. He was brave and noble. Never a care about himself but always what was for the greater good of Ireland. He could be a pig headed fool at times, but he never wavered, always did what he felt was right." She stared at her glass for a few moments. "Suppose I wish I could be a bit more like him." Their conversation ended abruptly as both of their thoughts centred on their respective fathers, Michael's memories not quite as fond.

Norah watched the couple surreptitiously as she bustled about. She could not remember the last time her Fiona had brought someone to a family gathering. The cailin guarded her heart well, using her work as a shield. She realised long ago that her only living daughter was driven to forge her own path in life, her passionate nature driving her actions. It wasn't that Norah disapproved of her choices as much as the fact that her inion denied herself what would ultimately make her the happiest - love.

She studied the man. Handsome, confident, intelligent, and skilled if the rumours that swirled about were even partly true. Her wee one was clearly smitten, it was written all over her face. But Norah saw something else, something that tugged at her heart. The man, Michael, reminded her a bit of her Padraig, God rest his soul. He seemed to be a man of principle, a man ruled by honour. He would love her, protect her, but in the end he would break her heart. There would always be a higher calling that would prevent her from being his first priority.

Norah Glenanne would have changed very little about her life. She loved her husband with her whole heart, as he did her, but the Troubles, like an unwanted mistress, slowly led him away. She did not want that for Fiona, she wanted to spare her the heartache of sharing a man with a cause. The older woman wished she was able to share her concerns but knew her daughter would quickly discount her advice and likely storm off in a huff, or more likely, be drawn further into the man's arms. So, she would keep silent and pray that history did not repeat itself. Besides, she had nearly thirty people to feed! Fiona's troubled love life would need to be sorted another day. Tea was ready.

The matriarch beckoned her family to gather and the adults swiftly moved to their places. There was a usual hierarchy to seating in the crowded house. Fiona led Michael to her usual chair at the far end of the table but tradition was thrown aside as Norah Glenanne made her intentions known. "Michael, please sit next to me here. Not too often we have a visitor. Fiona, too." The couple looked uncomfortable with the request but it was not one that could easily be refused. They exchanged looks. Michael shaking his head slightly wanting her to make some excuse. Fiona shrugged her shoulders, unable to think of an acceptable reason to remain where they were. Michael regretted having survived Fiona's fiery roadblock as they both moved toward the head of the table.

The brother who usually sat by his mother's side switched places, whispering to Fiona as he passed by. "Poor bastard. He's done for, he is." A smile on his face despite the banishment. Fiona jabbed him with an elbow as she passed.

Michael and Fiona settled in their places. "Right, that's better, isn't it? Now we can have a nice long chat." Michael would have rather been water boarded but smiled nonetheless. "Eamonn, would ya say 'Grace' for us in honour of the day?"

Heads bowed, sign of the cross, the blessing spoken ... all rituals unfamiliar to the American spy. He was a quick study and followed the crowd but Fiona immediately spotted the slight hesitation, the actions requiring thought rather than being instinctual. The prayer completed, the family burst into immediate conversation as platters heaping with food were passed round the table. Fiona took the opportunity to whisper into her lover's ear, "So, I suppose ya don't say 'Grace' in Kilkenny either." Michael had no chance to respond before another began her own questioning.

Norah Glenanne turned to the man at her side. "So, Michael, do ya live in Belfast now? Fiona tells me yer from the south. Kilkenny, is it?"

"Tis. Um, we'll see. I like it here." Michael tried to concentrate on his meal, hoping a mouth full of food would help him avoid questioning.

But Norah was not dissuaded from finding out more. "Do ya have a job?"

"I'm between jobs right now - a bit like Fiona." Michael answered then took another large bite. Fiona shot a disapproving glance at her mother. The interrogation was disrupted as a glass was toppled, liquid seeping into the tablecloth. Norah jumped up to see to the disarray and Michael was released from questioning, an audible sigh of relief escaping his lips as Fiona shot him a death glare. Sean and Declan raised their glasses in a toast indicating the spill was not accidental but meant kindly. The brothers felt the man's discomfort and remembered their own experiences sitting at the in-law's table for the first time. By the time the mess was sorted, the conversation was lively among those gathered inhibiting further queries. Michael was able to finish the meal in peace.

The meal completed, the family dispersed. The brothers gathered and invited Michael over for a wee drop, their initial dislike of the man easing. The American appreciated the gesture and reluctantly joined them, hoping there were not some other rituals expected of which he had no knowledge. Fiona stayed by his side.

"Shouldn't ya be helpin' with the washin' up, little sister?" Sean taunted. "Ya know, women's work." He winked letting her know the comment was meant in jest. Usually, she would have made a biting retort but today she just rolled her eyes. Her brothers' kindness at dinner was noted and appreciated. They often tormented her but today they showed their solidarity. Besides, she was intent on avoiding her mother at the moment, fearing she would undergo a more rigorous interrogation about the man she had brought to tea.

Shirtsleeves were rolled up, whiskey flowed freely, a camaraderie of sorts emerged as favourite weapons and explosives were discussed, and a family welcomed another into their fold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It's done then." A lone voice pierced the silence as all eyes were fixed on the television screen above the bar. Usually, football matches were the focus of attention, but today a news bulletin pushed all else aside.

A fleet of politicians from both sides of the border made the announcement of the historic agreement reached the day before on Good Friday. Some ink on paper was now to radically change life, as it had been known for decades.

"We, the participants in the multi-party negotiations, believe that the agreement we have negotiated offers a truly historic opportunity for a new beginning.The tragedies of the past have left a deep and profoundly regrettable legacy of suffering. We must never forget those who have died or been injured, and their families. But we can best honour them through a fresh start, in which we firmly dedicate ourselves to the achievement of reconciliation, tolerance, and mutual trust, and to the protection and vindication of the human rights of all.We are committed to partnership, equality and mutual respect as the basis of relationships within Northern Ireland, between North and South, and between these islands.We reaffirm our total and absolute commitment to exclusively democratic and peaceful means of resolving differences on political issues, and our opposition to any use or threat of force by others for any political purpose, whether in regard to this agreement or otherwise."

The words struck Fiona as her thoughts immediately turned to Claire. She was one of those tragedies, a family never whole after her loss. She thought about her Da and all that he endured so that others could taste freedom. Fiona had not gotten initially involved with the Provos over a united Ireland. That was her father's dream, not hers. But what she sought was justice, some might call it revenge. She wanted those that murdered her sister to be accountable. If she couldn't identify the individuals responsible, then she would take on the British Army in their stead. She had caused a great deal of mayhem over the years hoping it would somehow assuage her grief, but the hollow feeling remained. A sweep of a pen and now all was to be forgiven.

Michael watched Fiona's face trying to read her reaction to the news. He saw no relief but only confusion tinged with pain. The room was silent - a highly unusual occurrence for any pub! Each patron was lost in thought processing the statutes of the Agreement. Thirty years of violence had the potential to end but was the gain enough? This was a room filled with many who had to grapple with that question, those who had placed their lives on the line for the cause, those who had lost their youth and often much more. Still, the framers of the Agreement spoke. The issue of weapons finally was broached.

"Participants recall... "that the resolution of the decommissioning issue is an indispensable part of the process of negotiation"... Independent International Commission on Decommissioning and the Governments in developing schemes which can represent a workable basis for achieving the decommissioning of illegally-held arms in the possession of paramilitary groups.All participants accordingly reaffirm their commitment to the total disarmament of all paramilitary organisations. They also confirm their intention to continue to work constructively and in good faith with the Independent Commission, and to use any influence they may have, to achieve the decommissioning of all paramilitary arms within two years following endorsement in referendums North and South of the agreement and in the context of the implementation of the overall settlement..."

The news report ceased after all the Strands of the Agreement were read. Politicians smiled for the press, shook hands with one another, and posed for photographs capturing the historic moment for posterity. Those gathered in The Falls, or The Shankill for that matter, were more cautious, more pensive. There would be time for deliberation, time for debate. Referendums would be held on both sides of the border in late May and all would be able to vote on this document, the people given a voice for their destiny.

"Shite! The Brits are gonna haf' to pry me gun from me cold, dead hands, dey will. I'll not be givin' up wot's mine. Sum of ya are too fresh to remember da days when dey held da guns and da power." The old timer took a sip of his Guinness before continuing. "Dis deal nowt much different den da Anglo-Irish Treaty in '21. The IRA gunned Collins down, dey did. Hope Gerry Adams tinks 'bout dat while 'e rallies da troops, eh?" He chuckled at that last thought.

There was heated discussion throughout the pub, voices raised, passions revealed on both sides, little consensus forming. Fiona did not enter the fray of the discussion but Michael saw her anger rising, unsure of where she fell on the issue. Michael, the spy, took it all in, assessing the mood trying to determine what was bravado and what might provoke action. This was the type of information the CIA desired and would likely pass along to their British allies to garner future favours.

Three men entered the pub and stood near the doorway. Michael recognised them as associates of Fiona's. They motioned for her to draw near. Fiona glanced at Michael before joining the trio. A hushed and hurried conversation occurred as Michael attempted to discern their message. He watched his lover's face as news was delivered. Fiona was already deeply agitated but whatever news the three brought filled her with rage. She stormed out without a word, without a goodbye. Michael quickly followed somewhat alarmed by her reaction.

"Fi! Fi! Fiona!" He called after her as she headed down the street flanked by her companions. His voice finally broke through her anger and she paused momentarily as Michael rushed to her side.

"Go on with ya. I'll be along." She looked at her watch. "Meet youse in about an hour. Same place?" Fiona sent her associates off without her as she turned toward her man.

Michael tried to calm her. "Leaving me with the bill again?" He smiled but was met with a cold stare.

"I've got to go." Fiona provided no further details. "And before ya ask, no, ya can't help. Not this time." She knew the man would offer his services but now with the Agreement dangling before the populace, the future of the IRA in limbo, it was time to close ranks, keep to the inner circle. Still, she knew he would not take her refusal for assistance without some explanation, some reason for him to keep his distance. "We found the bastards that killed Jimmy, that planned to kill the lot of us. We intend to make them pay." Fiona turned away, her plan, whatever it was, was now set in motion.

In honour of the one year anniversary of the last new episode of Burn Notice to air on September 12, 2013, there will be an additional chapter of Stone of the Heart published on Friday- Chapter 13 to celebrate the 13th episode of 2013.