DISCOVERING DELANEY

ARRIVAL - 1980 IRELAND, COBH, County Cork

Funny how everything seems to stand still when you travel across the world to grieve a loved one.

Delaney Ryan stood in front of the cottage she had visited so often as a child, realizing that it had been 15 years since she had last seen it. Her grandmothers’ home - now empty of life. Once painted bright white with black trim, now dulled by time. Still full of rich greenery with Gran’s beloved trees, flowers, and herb gardens lining the property. Sighing, she marched forward to find the caretaker.

She was extremely weary. Having endured the accumulative 15 hours of travel and time change, she’d finally arrived in Cobh, her ancestral town. Her grandmother had passed away a week ago, the funeral arranged by her local parish, including the graveside memorial and burial. Now it was up to Delaney as sole heir to handle the rest, or as Gran’s attorney has advised, ‘administrate the property’.”

As she reached the front door it flew open, and a man appeared, introducing himself as Daniel O’Grady, the caretaker. Delaney thanked him, took the keys, and entered the cottage.

It was as if the place was frozen in time. Rocking chairs in perfect position in front of the fireplace. Handmade lace doilies on tables, pretty vases and perfectly placed teacups and plates in the cupboards with beautiful, beveled glass fixtures. Slowly touching her way toward the back of the house, she chose the guest room to toss her suitcase and crash for the night.

Moving like her feet were encased in concrete, she managed a shower, letting tears wash away the fear and pain, - feeling more alone than she had been in years. It was even worse than when her own parents died, as now she was completely alone, with no one to call family. Sleep seemed impossible, and yet it came, restless then heavy, and completely dreamless.

ANTICIPATION

November weather in Ireland was predictable - gray skies, intermittent rain, and overall gloom. Delaney woke to a pounding sound, but it wasn’t the rain. It was someone knocking at the door. Grabbing a sweater and throwing on sweatpants, she stumbled to the door, cautious to open it.

“Who’s there, please?”

“It’s me, Daniel. I’ve brought breakfast, Lassie.”

Delaney slowly opened the door and glared. “Don’t call me Lassie. Come in, I’ll be right with you.”

Daniel watched her carefully. She seemed tense, likely due to being jarred awake under stressful circumstances. Dark curly hair and sky-blue eyes reminded him of her grandmother Ellen. He wondered why she’d stayed away so long. Ellen had spoken often and loving of Delaney and had missed her dearly.

Delaney returned to see a large breakfast of bacon, sausages, poached eggs, fried potatoes, and homemade brown bread, served with hot tea and a glass of orange juice. “All for me?”

Laughing, Daniel replied, “You know the saying, eat breakfast like a King, lunch like a Prince and dine like a pauper. That’s the Irish way, Ms. Ryan.”

She thanked him, and loaded her plate, realizing she hadn’t eaten in a while. “I was wondering if you could take me into town today to meet with my grandmother’s solicitor – it shouldn’t take too long.”

Daniel stood. “Indeed, are you ready for a trip to town in this outstanding weather?”

“Certainly. It rains in America too, you know. I’ll manage just fine.”

Heading out toward town, Delaney fell silent. Gloomy weather matching her mood. Regret and sadness led to tears as the drops fell down her face, matching the drops of rain on the window. The drive was just shy of 15 minutes, and she needed to regain her composure quickly.

Solicitor, Justin Bourke, was a stodgy, short fellow with a thin moustache and faded red hair combed over a balding head. Deep mahogany and leather furniture surrounded by the scent of cherry pipe tobacco filled Delany’s senses. He offered her a seat and began by opening a sealed envelope.

“Ms. Ryan, now to the reading of the will.”

Delaney inherited everything, the house, the land, and some stocks that were invested on her behalf. He then gave her a safety deposit box, from the Bank of Ireland. She opened it in his presence, and found $20,000 in American currency, a black leather-bound journal with a rubber band around it, and a letter addressed to her from Gran.

“I thank you Mr. Bourke for tending to my grandmother’s needs. I assume that all fees for your services have been covered?”

“Yes, Ms. Ryan, your grandmother was most fastidious about her legal and financial matters. It was a pleasure to serve her. Please accept my deep condolence for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Delaney shook Mr. Bourke’s’ hand and gathered her things. Daniel rose, gave her his arm, and led her out.

Mercifully, the rain had stopped. Delaney collapsed into the passenger seat and let out a long sigh.

Daniel spoke first, “I think it’s best that I take you back to the cottage to sort this out. I can stay if you’d like the company.”

“Yes, Daniel, that would be excellent. This mystery is more than I can handle alone!”

DISCOVERY

Arriving back at the cottage, it was clear that Delaney was nervous, and yet excited about what would be revealed in the letter. Daniel quickly made a fire to warm the room and headed to the kitchen to make tea. Delaney suggested that a shot of Irish whiskey may be what she needed.

“Glory be, I didn’t take you for a whiskey girl, thought you’d be more of a wine connoisseur!”

Delaney frowned. “Seriously? I’m Irish for Pete’s sake! Guinness and Jameson are in my blood!”

“Your Gran Ellen was a BUSHMILL drinker, so you’ll have to go with that. Tis’ a bit early to be drinkin’ Ms. Delaney, but as you wish, fire on ice coming up.”

She finally smiled and thanked him.

“Do you want to read your letter alone? I can busy myself in the garden. Surely the storm has muddied things up out there.”

“No, please stay. I’ll read it aloud, so you’ll know when to catch me if I faint or something.”

She timidly opened the letter.

“Delaney first let me say how much I love you. I always understood that your life in America was thrust upon you when my son took you there for better opportunities. Hearts can break. Hearts can heal. But when we lost your parents in the accident, I was not sure if I would ever recover. You stayed there, and I here. Our communication by phone and letters kept me going. My own dear husband passed soon after, leaving me totally alone save my lovely friends in this dear town. As to the will, it is all yours. The $20.000 is the only American money I have so it is yours to cover expenses. The journal will make sense in a moment. And now the story can be told.

I write this letter knowing that as you read it, I will already have passed through the pearly gates into heaven. At least that is my hope. Considering what I am to reveal, I have my doubts.

It was the autumn of 1911, and I was 17 years old. My family, the Gallagher’s, were well respected merchants in Cobh. One day while in town I met a young man who worked in the shipyard. He was energetic, kind, and handsome. His name was Robert Doyle, and I fell madly in love with him. My parents disapproved of me seeing him, but it did not stop me. By the spring of 1912 we became lovers… This is where the story of your true life begins Delaney.

My dear Robert heard that there were wonderful opportunities for immigrants to make their fortunes in America. To his great joy, the ship Titanic was heading to Cobh, which was known as Queenstown then. It would be the last port Titanic would grace before its maiden voyage to America. He was determined to be on it, and once settled in New York he would send for me.

He boarded the Titanic on Thursday, April 11th, and after tearful moments on the dock, he bounded up the ramp and was out of sight. You well know the outcome. Travelling in third class, Robert did not survive the disaster and never knew what he left behind.

You see, my indiscretion with Robert led to me being pregnant. Robert did not know, but his best friend Denis Ryan did. Denis and I were grieving Robert and overwhelmed with fear and pain, I told him of my plight. To protect his friend from shame, Denis stepped in and married me. He was also determined to protect the child I carried from being born out of wedlock.

Your grandfather Denis is one of the heart, not the flesh. Your father Patrick was born in November 1912 and was christened Patrick Robert Ryan. His biological father, Robert Doyle, has family still living, but I never reached out to them. Instead, I kept the secret to honor Denis and his act of chivalry and love toward me.

The Little Black Book lists the names of all the Doyle’s that I could discover in and around Dublin and vicinity. One or more of them could be your blood relatives. I leave it to you, if you wish, to pursue that path. It would be a shock of a story to tell, but they may want to know it.

I hope you can forgive me for holding this from you. I know the Ryan clan has been good to us, loved us, and gave me a life that I could never have hoped for considering how I failed as a young woman.

Now as I end this letter please know that you, Delaney are my in my heart forever. Love, Gran

Delaney sat back, looked at Daniel, and shook her head. “So, this turns everything I knew to be true about my family upside down. I certainly don’t want to burden you with this news.”

Daniel watched her cautiously. “My best advice is to get you some good Irish stew and then sleep on it. My wife has a pot boiling so I’ll bring you some, and you can rest.”

“Thank you, Daniel.”

DECISION

After a fitful night tossing and turning, Delaney woke with a headache. Just what I need, she thought. Rising, hot tea in hand, she opened the Little Black Book.

Kinsale, Blarney, Glanmire, Cork; all towns inhabited by clan Doyle. Her plan was to start calling each number, stating she was a journalist whose Irish relative had been on the Titanic. Further, that she was looking for others who lost family, hoping to share their stories for an article she was writing.

The handset on Gran’s phone felt heavy in her hand. Dialing one number after another with hands shaking, she nearly gave up. Halfway through the list of names, she reached Sarah Doyle, who lived in Cork.

Sarah welcomed the call, happy to speak about her grandfather Robert Doyle. “Ah yes, he had worked in the shipyards in Cobh back then. He was training to be an engineer and had secured a position on the Titanic as a boilermaker. Once in New York I believe he was going to apply to be a fireman. My grandmother was heartbroken when he died, as she was pregnant with my father. We still honor him each anniversary of the Titanic sinking.”

Delaney thanked her for her time and sank to the floor. Realizing that her biological grandfather had been married when he romanced Gran was a huge game changer. In that moment she knew what to do.

Absolutely nothing.

She could live with what she now knew. The Doyle’s could live on, not knowing.

Hearts can heal. Yes Gran, they can. And mine will too.