Deb:  You know, Jade...I've always meant to ask you...you're so much
younger than Ryan...how in the world were the two of you ever drawn to one
another?

Jade:  It's kind of a long story.  Are you sure you want to hear it?

Deb:  I wouldn't ask.  And Ryan never would say anything beyond that he
was looking for you.  I never pictured him as the sort of man who would
open himself to a woman.  And yet...he seems completely devoted to you.

Jade sighed deeply, as though the act of remembering was hard.  Then
she turned to me.

Jade:  I'd like to tell you.  But first...what's Elmore doing with you?

Deb:  It's been said that I gather up strays...Elmore would be one.  He
goes way back with Billy, used to be a boxer and he's still one hell of a 
streetfighter.  When Billy was shot a while back, it was Elmore that Billy
had me call to take care of the guy that did it.  Billy brought him here, I
guess.  If he'd pay someone a thousand to do a job...he'd pay Elmore three
for the same job...Billy's very proprietary.  Then they decided to go into
business together.  Elmore lived with us while we were getting the Corner
opened up.  Then he was going to move into this little studio behind the
place, but by Thanksgiving I was so used to him around, and he's so sweet
anyhow.  Well...Billy didn't exactly want him moving in, but he hasn't said
much now it's done.  And that's the deal with Elmore.  Now...Ryan, please.

Jade stared out the window for a while as I drove, clasping her hands
tightly together in her lap, off to one side.  She probably still hurt like
hell, but I had no intention of asking her.  She would mention it if she
wanted to.  The woman had a will nearly as fierce as Ryan's own.

Jade:
I was in college... a Junior then, and I'd saved up enough money to go 
to England through the London Centre, an organization that took you to 
see the area and you'd study British history and the like for a few 
credit hours toward your degree.  It was a three week trip, with the 
option of spending an extra week to travel around Europe.  That was what 
had attracted me to the whole trip.  One week and I could go anywhere 
I'd wanted.  

My great grandfather was Irish, hence the name Riordan.  He was an 
immigrant from over the sea, and had described the green rolling hills 
to me from when I was small.  He died when I was eight years old, but I 
knew that I had to see this place.  It was almost magical when I thought 
of it, that was the hold it had on me.  And I was not disappointed when 
I got there..

Deb, I've never seen that many shades of green in my entire life.  It 
was breathtaking... I and a few friends of mine who had agreed to go 
with me toured the cities, and on the last night we ended up in Dublin. 
Michael had wanted to partake of the dark stuff that last night, and I'd 
avoided it simply because I'm not a big fan of beer and I know how Mike 
gets when he's had a few of them.  Still, I went along, and I'm glad I 
did.

There was a trio of musicians at the back of the little pub, a little 
man playing a tin whistle, a taller fellow on bodhran, which is a small 
round drum, and a young woman.  She sang in gaelic when she was not 
playing a small harp.  I was entranced by the music and besides that the 
pub was a little noisy, so I didn't hear him come up behind me.  All I 
saw was that massive paw slide in front of me and take up the beer I'd 
hardly touched.  I turned around, suprised, and he'd already finished 
it.  He held me in place with those dark eyes... "Can't let good draft 
go to waste, lass."  And then he grinned.  

We talked all night, listening to the trio and when they were gone, he 
was still drinking stout and I was still drinking him in.  Everything, 
the man was quick as a whip and charming as hell.  Not once did he 
mention the Cause.  Not until I'd decided to stay in Ireland for a few 
more days...

It came slow, but it came neverthless.  He'd asked me if I'd ever started 
a fire, just to watch it burn... witnessed the destructive power of 
lightning to a dead, dry tree... built sandcastles just to push them 
over... they seemed harmless, I suppose, considering we talked about so 
many things in between them.  It went fast, a blur, and I found myself 
in the middle of a war.  He showed me the ways of gelignite and chemical 
triggers, how to build a bomb out of the things found in a gardener's 
workshed... and to hook me, he said it was all for the freedom of 
Ireland.  And, to him, it was...  but the ways of the warriors who use 
gurreila warfare in the North are not mine, but I found that out too 
late.  

We started by planting devices in factories at night.  We'd set them off 
minutes after they were locked down and everyone had went home.  Our 
hits were strategic, businesses that supported the British, or exported 
to Britain.  It worked well.  We hit them hard, and no one got killed.  

Problem was, one night... a group of workers didnt go home.  They'd 
stayed over to plan some sort of retirement party for a co-worker, and 
we hadn't checked thoroughly enough.  They died, and I got out.

Jacque Whitworth, 1998

Deb:  So...how long were you with him?

Jade:  Not more than six months from start to finish.  And I should have
got out sooner.  I should have seen the potential for mistakes...disasters.

Deb:  How can any of us really know?

Jade:  I can't accept that.  It's not as easy as that...to know that you've
taken innocent lives...even if you feel that the cause is important.  I
agreed with the politics, I know that what the British have done and are
doing is wrong, but I can't live with innocents killed.   

Deb:  I can't tell you how to feel...but if you let it stand between you and
Ryan...

Jade:  I try not to.  But it's always there, in the background...I have to 
tell myself not to think about it.  I'm still scared by how much I enjoyed
it, the power of it all, knowing that I held the power of life and death in
my hands.  Ryan showed me that in myself.  What would you do?  If Bill told 
you to do something that caused people to be killed...wouldn't you leave?  Wouldn't you have to?

Deb:  No...no, I couldn't.  Because my first responsibility is to myself,
and leaving him would be suicide.  He is who he is, and I've spent way too
much time as it is messing with that equation.  I'm giving him two presents
this Christmas...and one of them amounts to loving what he is, and being
happy with that.

Jade:  If he were a killer...?

Deb:  He is, many times over.  Once in my defense...would have been twice
if he hadn't been in such a public place with the man who...well, anyway.
It's his job.  It's who he is, what he does...I imagine it's a lot like
Ryan...he's been trained for one thing all his life and has no desire to
be anything else.  And even if he wanted to change, he couldn't.

Jade managed a grin.

Jade:  You're a stereotype.

Deb:  Devoted little woman, yes I am.  Middle-class to the core.

Jade:  I...I didn't want that out of life.  I saw it happen to so many
friends of mine, they'd give up their entire lives just to be with a man.
I tried not to forget my principles to follow him blindly, God knows it's
so easy to do, the man oozes charm...but I do agree.  I accept who he is.
Who he must be.  And there lies the difficulty...

Deb;  My principles are intact.  I don't do anything I wouldn't have
done before.

Jade:  By staying with him...you would be seen to tacitly approve.  I was
afraid of that in my situation...afraid of the temptation, even, I suppose.

Deb:  Sam's favorite word is 'accessory'.  He likes to throw it at me...or
did, until he got close enough to the situation to realize that Bill's in
and out on mischief and I have no idea what he's up to.  For all
anybody in legal capacities knows, I'm the hired help.

Jade:  I couldn't live that way.

Deb:  Depends on what you want.  Principles come in a distant second to
Bill Strannix in my life.

The conversation came to a halt as I pulled into a parking slot at
Wal-Mart.  Jade was giving me this look, as though she had no way of
understanding what the attraction was.  Bill hadn't managed to be terribly
impressive, I knew that.  And I didn't have the words to be able to explain
the fact that when he really looked at me, it was worth the wait.

Jade:  You don't strike me as the sort of woman to feel that way.

Deb:  I never struck myself that way.  But I didn't know Bill.  I still
catch myself looking in the mirror and wondering just who the sorry bitch
I see there is.  Then he wanders through and I hear him talking, or I watch
him charge through on the way to someplace else...and he grins over at me
just to let me know he knows I'm there...principles are cheap compared to
that, I guess.

Jade caught me with a surprise question.

Jade:  Where are your children?  Ryan mentioned them once or twice.  Did
you sell them out?

Deb:  That's low, Jade.

I turned away, stared sightlessly for a minute at a mound of wrapping 
paper and tape.  The boys had been a sore point since that moment in
October when they'd decided to live with their father in the house in
Farmington.  I had never for a moment imagined myself capable of walking
away from them, yet I had done just that.  Bill would never have been able
to tolerate the noise and the constant backtalk.  He would have hated my
being tied to them and unavailable to help him, as much as I ever did.  The
boys would have been the death of us.  So I had disguised my choice by 
giving them theirs.

Jade:  I'm sorry.  I gave up a lot, as well, just to be with Ryan now.  We 
each live with demons.

I drew a deep, ragged breath.  She was right...both of us lived with 
things we'd done that didn't bear deep examination.

Deb:  We did the things we had to do.  Come on...let's get this taken care
of.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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