Chapter 37 Maeve
Maeve
Just beyond the gate to Jude’s property, in the middle of two heather-strewn hills, was a single oak tree.
Beneath the soil, its roots spread out in an unseen lattice; above, its riot of winter-bare branches stretched like naked lungs against the shape of the horizon.
In its long years, it would have faced countless storms, stretches of droughts and beatings by the relentless wind.
Yet, it remained unmoved even as it approached the twilight of its life.
Behind Maeve stood Jude, in front of her, the oak. Both lonely and still, breathing with the wind. Neither willing to uproot from the ground that held them fast.
The oak would remain, but Jude would go.
Silhouetted against the violet of the rising sun, a flock of birds spun in a choreographed dance towards the hills. Maeve turned to catch him watching them, slack wonder moving in his eyes.
She buried her face deeper into his crimson scarf. It had snowed overnight, a light dusting that cast their world in white. Beside them, their meagre possessions were compacted into one bag. Without horses, they looked at three days on the road on foot. Two nights spent somewhere new.
Jude eyed the gate like it would burn him if he got too close.
He’d been jumpy since she’d met him in the kitchen that morning, their movements silent as to not wake Elden.
Flinching at the slightest noises, hardly speaking.
Running his hand over his freshly shorn hair so often that Maeve worried he’d soon begin tearing it out if they didn’t get a move on.
Her stomach churned. She didn’t know who she was more afraid for – herself or Jude. There didn’t seem to be much distinction between them where her heart was involved.
His hand joined hers on the gate. He rested his weight on it, fingers clenched so tightly around the iron that his knuckles bleached white before he pushed it open and stepped through.
She wasn’t sure where things stood between them, especially after last night.
She thought of him often. The wanting didn’t seem to be waning.
If anything, it was growing stronger. Harder to ignore.
She studied his mouth from the corner of her eye. The pale pre-sunlight painted him in delicate sheets of colour – greens as dark as a night-strewn forest, the hazel of his eyes like lichen. Dusky purples shadowed his jaw and raven hair, flecked with the deepest amber.
He’d had black tea and toast with honey for breakfast. Perhaps he’d taste of that.
The day passed in a slow parade of dewy grass and tumultuous skies.
Neither of them said much as they walked, content to simply be.
In the silence, their worries couldn’t be indulged, their fears could be forgotten.
It was only the unending, frost-laden hills, their crunching steps, and the thin thread of hope for company.
An hour later, Maeve stopped. She wrapped her fingers around Jude’s arm. ‘Someone’s following us.’
He turned to squint at the black-clad figure behind them for a long moment before he sighed. ‘Took him less time than I thought.’
The exposed shape of the moors lent Elden’s silhouette a vastness as he approached.
A wry look stretched across his face. ‘You two are louder than you think you are. Last night’s whispering, the liaison in the kitchen this morning.
Jude’s… packing.’ He raised a brow, jostling the bag over his shoulder meaningfully. ‘Didn’t bring a tarpaulin, did you?’
Jude crossed his arms across his chest. ‘Thought we’d find an inn.’
‘An inn?’ Elden repeated, incredulous. ‘You’re headed back to the Abbey, aren’t you? Shall I pipe in your entrance too, then, or will the trail of gossip be enough?’
‘What are you doing here, Elden?’ Maeve asked. She refused to acknowledge the relief his arrival brought. His steady presence was the antithesis to her and Jude’s frantic planning.
‘I’m going with you,’ Elden replied, nothing in his words a question.
‘No,’ Jude said. ‘Absolutely not.’
He and Elden stared at each other. The mid-morning light cast bluish shadows across the sparse expanse of winter grass between them. A frozen breeze swept through the lone tree to their left, the shake of the naked branches promising more snow.
‘Don’t think you’d get far across the moors without me,’ Elden said softly. ‘And Jude.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘They’re my memories, too. I’m going.’
His memories?
Maeve’s heart launched into her throat, followed closely by a wave of nausea, as though every second she’d had a headache, had felt like she was treading water over the past few days, had coalesced into something drowning and inescapable. Sweat trickled down her spine as she swayed where she stood.
‘Jude—’ she murmured weakly. ‘Jude, I don’t, I can’t…’
His gaze remained fixed on Elden. ‘I can’t protect you there.
I can’t promise you’ll get your memories back.
I can’t promise you’ll know why your memories were taken.
’ His voice sounded far away, growing more and more distant.
‘Nothing I do will keep you safe, Elden. Can’t you see why I don’t want you to come? ’
Elden’s reply was lost as a wave of blackness stole over Maeve’s vision. Her knees buckled. Her last view before the darkness claimed her entirely was of Jude, arms extended to catch her.
Maeve awoke to wind whistling through slatted barn walls, drowning out the echo of her heartbeat in her ears.
Her jaw ached like she’d been clenching her teeth for hours.
A haziness coated her mind, taking minutes to clear as she stared up at an unfamiliar wooden ceiling.
Somewhere to her left, blankets rustled.
She rubbed her eyes and carefully sat up.
She was lying on a pallet of blankets in a small barn. Nothing about the space was familiar.
The man sleeping beside her, however, was.
She shook him awake. ‘Jude?’ He twitched, burying his face deeper into the pillow. Maeve gently prodded his shoulder. ‘Jude.’
‘Hm?’ He stirred, eyes blinking open wearily. ‘Maeve? Why are you awake?’
She noted the lack of worry in his voice, how he relaxed back onto the pillow, one arm thrown over his head. Distantly, a bell of warning chimed at the back of her skull. ‘Where are we? What happened?’
‘What?’ he murmured, scrubbing an eye.
‘I passed out, didn’t I?’ she asked, voice drawing louder. ‘After Elden arrived this morning.’
Jude’s sleepy, confused expression shifted to one of alarm.
He sat up. ‘Passed out? No. Nothing happened. Elden joined us, and we walked here. Caleb fed us a meal; Elden fixed his fence. We went to sleep.’ He leaned closer, gaze roving her face like he was looking for signs of injury. ‘Why? Why do you think you passed out?’
Under her blankets, Maeve pinched her wrist hard. Pain streaked up her arm – proof she was awake. ‘I don’t… I don’t remember. Any of it. Elden arrived, I felt ill, and I – I thought I passed out. I remember passing out.’
Jude cleared his throat. ‘You stumbled a bit after Elden joined us. On a rock, I think. Once you’d steadied though, you were fine.’
Her memory stretched back, searching the gap with a wide-fingered grip. She scoured the edges, looking for anything uneven, anything unusual, finding nothing but an even blackness. She pushed deeper. Pain lanced through her jaw with the effort.
And there, like a trailing hem, something—
It disappeared before she could catch it.
Maeve swallowed, smoothing her hand down her throat to feel the motion. ‘Was I normal?’ she asked. ‘On the walk. To Caleb’s.’ She paused. ‘And who is Caleb, anyway?’
‘Bethan’s partner. A sheep farmer. Elden thought it would be a good place to spend the night,’ Jude supplied. His voice rose in volume. ‘I didn’t notice anything amiss. If anything, you were more talkative than normal.’
Well. She didn’t like the sound of that one bit. ‘What did I say?’
‘Not much.’ He shrugged. A smile appeared on his lips. ‘Professed your undying love for Elden but nothing besides that.’
She snorted, the sliver of humour enough to diffuse the tension. ‘Oh, nothing else?’
She could tell he was trying to keep the worry out of his voice, but she saw it in his eyes. In the brush of his hand against hers atop the blanket.
He smiled again, quick and sharp before it faded. ‘I wish I had the answers. I wish I knew how to stop the Abbey tampering with our memory without having to return there.’
‘Me too.’ Maeve sighed, weary at the overwrought conversation. ‘Nothing we can do about it tonight. We should try to get some more sleep.’
Gently, she pushed his chest until he toppled back into the pillows. During their conversation, his pillow had somehow made its way to drape halfway over hers. Jude pulled the corner of the blanket back and raised an eyebrow. ‘You’d be warmer if you slept closer.’
‘Hm.’ Maeve fought a smile as she lay down, putting her back to him. Only the regular pattern of Elden’s snores on the other side of the pallet of hay kept her nerves at bay as Jude draped an arm over her and pulled her tight to his chest.
‘See? It’s too cold to sleep alone,’ he whispered. His breath was warm on the back of her neck, legs shifting to tangle with hers under the blankets.
‘What about Elden?’
Jude’s laugh was a faint, sleepy huff. ‘Would you rather share with him?’
‘No.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
Maeve buried her smile in the pillow. There was no way she would sleep anytime soon.
What did it mean, him holding her like this?
Jude had been alone for so long. Perhaps he just wanted to be close to someone.
Maybe she was just a warm body on a cold night.
Maeve wanted so much more with him, and she wondered, she worried, if he felt the same.
She needed to find out. It would eat her alive if she didn’t know.
‘Jude,’ Maeve began, a hoarse whisper.
‘Not now.’ He shifted, tucking tighter against her back. ‘Sleep.’
Though her heart was a restless beast thrashing against her ribcage, she closed her eyes.
Focused on relaxing one muscle at a time.
Despite his unforgettable weight against her, the unsettling blankness where her memories of the afternoon should live, weariness swept in through the cracks. She sank deeper into his arms.
Her final memory was of Jude pressing a kiss to her skin, just under her ear.