Chapter 27 Maeve
Maeve
A woman stood in the doorway.
Her dark hair was windswept and waterlogged around her face, her light brown skin flushed as she scanned the room, alighting immediately on Jude. She heaved a rapid inhale as she moved swiftly across the threshold. ‘Jude.’
Maeve jumped to her feet at the same time as Jude.
She stepped in front of him, both arms spread wide.
Her loudest thought, her only thought, was that this woman was from the Abbey.
Terror turned her fingers to ice. Were they not quick enough?
Had they somehow got wind of them trying to reverse the memory loss?
That his icon was done? The possibilities made her head spin.
The woman froze, her gaze now firmly fixed on Maeve.
‘It’s okay,’ Jude murmured close to Maeve’s ear. He gently laid his hands on her upper arms and lowered them back to her sides as he stepped around her. ‘It’s my neighbour. Bethan.’
‘Bethan?’ Maeve repeated. The name sounded familiar.
Before Jude or the stranger could speak, Elden appeared. He glanced between the three of them, a frown creasing his brow briefly before it smoothed over with his smile. He clapped Bethan on the shoulder. ‘I see you found him.’
Bethan gave herself a brief shake. ‘Goodness. Where are my manners.’ She thrust a hand towards Maeve, a strained smile already in place. ‘Bethan, as Jude said. I live with my mum not too far up the road.’
Maeve shook her hand. Her fingers were like ice, the sleeve of her coat dripping onto the floor.
‘You’re soaked,’ Jude remarked, scanning her up and down. ‘Why’d you come all the way in this storm?’
Bethan’s eyes flitted to Maeve and back to him. ‘It’s not so bad out there. And I like the walk.’
Jude smiled. He met Maeve’s gaze, nodding encouragingly. ‘Let’s go downstairs. There should be something you could borrow. And dinner ought to be ready soon.’
Elden levelled Jude with a look Maeve couldn’t decipher as he stepped past him towards the door, Bethan already outside. ‘Shall I prepare a guest room?’ Elden asked, directing his question towards Jude’s retreating back.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Jude called over his shoulder. He disappeared down the hall.
‘I didn’t realize there were neighbours so close,’ Maeve said to Elden once they were alone.
‘Not all that close. Past Oakmoor. Maybe an hour’s walk,’ Elden replied. ‘We occasionally meet Bethan and her mum for cards down at the pub.’ He hesitated, a strange tension entering his voice. ‘Sometimes more when Bethan wants to see Jude alone.’
‘Ah.’ Maeve swallowed, fingering the edge of her worn, entirely unsuitable chemise and the navy knitted cardigan over it… Jude’s cardigan. She hadn’t seen a need to dress formally when she was just around the house, preferring comfort over fashion. ‘I just need to change. I’ll meet you downstairs.’
Elden clapped her on the shoulder. His mouth had opened to reply when he abruptly paused, staring past her, towards the icon. ‘I thought you weren’t going to paint that.’
Maeve drew back, stung even though she knew she shouldn’t be. Had Jude discussed his icon with Elden? She certainly hadn’t mentioned anything. A worse thought – had Elden read her letter to Ezra, too?
‘It’s not for the Abbey,’ she said, a note of sharpness entering her voice. ‘It’s for Jude.’
‘For Jude?’ Elden questioned.
He didn’t mean anything by it, Maeve told herself. Elden’s fierce protectiveness was one of the things she admired most about him. She laid her hand on his arm. ‘It’s not to hurt him or to… spy. I promise.’
Slowly, Elden nodded. He cast a final look at the icon. ‘I’ll see you downstairs. Dinner’s almost ready.’
Maeve watched him go, her thoughts quickly whipping into a maelstrom.
Bethan.
A knot formed in her stomach as she changed into something more presentable. Were Bethan and Jude… she couldn’t even think the word. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Maeve finished buttoning her cardigan and headed down the stairs.
Approaching it like a hot coal, she forced herself to consider the idea that Jude had a lover. A lover who was currently standing in their front hall, one of his jumpers wrapped around her shoulders. She said something, and Jude laughed.
Maeve’s lungs felt too tight. She studied Bethan from the stairs, taking in what she hadn’t had time to in her studio. She was tall, almost Jude’s height. Her black hair had dried in messy waves to her shoulders, and her skin gleamed with a healthy glow from the walk.
Undeniably beautiful.
‘Maeve.’ Jude looked over his shoulder towards where she lurked in the shadows. His smile fell slightly. ‘What are you doing halfway up the stairs?’
Her cheeks warmed as she descended the rest of the steps. ‘Sorry. I was waiting for Elden.’
On cue, footsteps sounded on the stairs behind her moments before Elden appeared. ‘Dinner’s ready. Which I’m sure was the plan. Eh, Bethan?’ He wrapped an arm congenially around her shoulders and aimed them both towards the kitchen.
‘I’m not one to miss a free meal,’ Bethan said, ‘but I do really need to—’
The rest of her reply was lost down the hall.
Jude lingered behind, his eyes still on Maeve. His expression was unreadable in the soft light from the oil lamps. His mouth opened and shut, a muscle tensing in his jaw. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. ‘She won’t stay long.’
‘It’s fine,’ Maeve replied quickly.
He studied her for another long moment before nodding briskly. He headed down the hall towards the kitchen without glancing back.
What was happening? Hadn’t they just been kneeling on the floor before Jude’s icon, their hearts laid out between them as he had prepared to pray?
She looked down, cringing at the mud coating the toes of her boots.
Her fingernails were caked with paint, and the hem of her dress was ragged with wear and age.
A mess. Inside and out.
Whatever she thought had been slowly building between them, she needed to tuck it away.
She represented everything Jude hated. The Abbey, devotion to the saints, his lost memories.
Maeve knew she could be difficult. Ezra had often told her she was naive, her desperation for attention too palpable, turning her into someone exhausting to be around.
Words she’d heard often enough to begin to believe them.
Jude needed someone different. Someone confident in who they were.
Capable and carefree and easy to be around.
Everything she was not.
Feeling like she was gathering the cracked pieces of whatever hope she’d been guarding like a precious jewel, Maeve followed the sound of Jude’s laughter towards the little-used dining room at the back of the house.
At Elden’s urging, Bethan sat at the head of the table.
She laughed and poked fun at the two men as she ate, though a strange tension lingered around her grip on the fork, her darting gaze.
She was also attentive to Maeve, asking her questions about her painting, where she’d got her jumper, and what she did to look after her hair.
She found herself warming to the other woman.
If it hadn’t been for the unwelcome jealousy digging claws into her heart, they might have been friends.
If Maeve could push past her feelings, maybe they still could be.
She picked at her food. The malty brown bread, sausages, and mash were more palatable than usual. Not like it made much of a difference. Her appetite had all but disappeared.
‘The bread is wonderful,’ Bethan remarked. She sipped her wine, sloshing the deep red liquid around in her cup. ‘Jude, did you make it?’
He pointed his fork towards Maeve. ‘Maeve came up with the recipe. She’s quite the baker.’
‘Oh!’ Bethan exclaimed. ‘You must give me the recipe. My mum and I bake bread twice a month to bring to the children’s home in Oakmoor. You should join.’
‘I’d like that,’ Maeve murmured. If she’d been planning on being here long term – which she wasn’t – she could have seen herself making a home in the community.
Giving back. Searching for the sense of belonging she’d always wanted out of the Abbey.
But, like everything good in her life, her time in Jude’s home had a quickly approaching expiration date.
Bethan leaned towards Maeve, grinning conspiratorially. ‘Elden must be fond of you to allow access to his kitchen.’
Maeve flushed, fiddling with her fork. ‘Oh… I don’t know about that. I’ve taught him a few recipes, so I reckon I’ll be kicked out soon enough.’ She forced her lips up in a smile. From across the table, Jude watched her with an unreadable expression.
‘As long as it’s not Jude in the kitchen, I don’t care,’ Elden remarked. He propped his hand under his chin and chewed, smiling at Maeve. Her shoulders relaxed somewhat. His ability to settle her with nothing more than a smile or kind comment was uncanny.
‘And why is that, Elden?’ Jude’s voice had turned frosty.
Elden winked at Bethan. ‘Think you need to relax, is all. Too uptight.’
Maeve took a sip of wine, swirling it over her teeth as she watched Jude sit back in his seat, hooking one arm over the backrest. ‘Hm.’
‘I disagree,’ Bethan said. Her eyes were fond as she gazed at Jude. ‘I rather like that part of him.’
Maeve’s fork fell to her plate with a clatter.
Jude’s eyes swung to hers. She searched his expression for something to pull her from the mire.
He brought his glass to his mouth as he raised an eyebrow, fingers tight around the stem.
Dark red wine clung to his lower lip. Maeve looked away.
Disappointment clamped teeth around her heart.
Bethan was still speaking.
‘So, that’s why it’s just me this time. Mum has been feeling a little under the weather, so I don’t know if we’ll focus excessively on the herbalism this winter season.’
‘Just fortunes and cards, then?’ Jude asked.