A Pilot's Wife

Puzzle Pieces

She stepped out of the steaming shower and allowed the cold air to hit her. She had suddenly decided to go to Ireland,  to find a reason as to why she was even still standing . Yesterday, she had told Elliot she had wanted to go to Ireland after Muire had explained everything, and he had been surprised, wondering why she would go to the country where her husband was killed, where his wife had came from, where his other child had originated from . She grabbed a towel and wrapped herself in it. The comb from the toiletry kit she had brought ran through her hair and made it her hair reach past her shoulders. Afterwards, she dried her face and put on some eye makeup, basic enough to make her feel better than she really looked.

Turning around and seeing her outfit, a purple ribbed long sleeve fitted top and a pair of dark jeans. She hadn't brought another coat but only had to use hers, which was damp, but she liked it, since it was ankle length and the tan color complimented her well. She walked out the bathroom and into her room. Elliot was on the floor, doing pushups, despite his attire being his coat and dress shirt.

"I'm ready." Olivia said 

Elliot finished his last push up and got up. He was sweaty but he approached the bathroom. 

"I'll be out in two minutes"

Olivia sat on the bed and looked at her feet. She was blistered and bleeding nearly from having to walk for blocks yesterday, but today she felt better. Elliot was out nearly three minutes later, having taken a quick shower and getting dressed.

"I have the flight for noon, we should leave now if we want to make it through security."

It was nine thirty. London Heathrow was insane, even more insane than JFK. She knew he was right. 

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She was trying to read the map while remembering to drive on the left, a challenge that taxed all of her concentration , so that it was time before she realized the irony of being on Ireland's freeway, which was leading her towards Ashbourne, exactly where she didn't want to go. The flight had been uneventful, the car rental straightforward. She felt a physical urgency to get to her destination. By landing in Belfast, she had missed the city of Galway completely, as Dublin was the only flight out for the day. 

"You sure you want to drive? I can drive."

Olivia was exhausted, and she honestly didn't know where she was going, let alone trying to get used to the fact that she had to drive on the left side of the road. 

She had gotten off the freeway and had pulled over in a parking lot, where Elliot had switched to the drivers side. He'd driven in Ireland before, due to his family trips and visits. 

"Alright, we're heading towards Dublin."

The unadorned white cottages and pastureland were marred only by wired fences, telephone poles, and occasionally a satellite dish. The hill seemed to change their color and even their shape, depending on how the sun shifted through the fair weather clouds. The land looked ancient , trespassed upon, and the hill had a worn and mossy work, as though they had been trampled by feet. On the ridge of hills closest to the road, she could see the scattered white dots of hundreds of sheep, the plowed and furrowed bits of patchwork, the low green hedgerows that border the crops like lines drawn by a child. 

This would not be what the blood struggle had been about, as she thought as Elliot drove. It was something else she'd never fathom, never understand. Though James, in arrogance or love,  had presumed to do so, had involved himself in Northern Ireland's complex conflict, even it is was lingering, thus causing Olivia and Julia to be peripheral, unwitting, participants.