“Where is she?” Artair stuck out his chest and squared his shoulders. He stepped so close that Brian could taste his foul breath.
Brian growled. “She’s not here and I wouldn’t tell you where she was even if I knew.”
“What d’ya mean ‘if you knew’? You don’t know where your wife is?” Artair began laughing. “You mean she ran from you too?”
Brian felt his emotions flare out of control. He grabbed the slobbering drunk and threw him to the ground. It was as if he were watching himself punch Artair again and again. He was taking all of his anger and frustration out on this appalling man. Barra came running from the inn and pulled Brian from a bloody Artair. “Brian, what’re you doing? Stop it.”
Artair quickly got up off the ground and ran down the street. As he turned the corner by the inn, he lost his footing in the gravel and fell on his stomach. His friends struggled to pull him to his feet.
“And don’t come back!” Brian yelled after him.
Barra stared after the group of men, his eyes wide in astonishment. “What was that?”
“I have to find Moira before he does.”
13
Moira slowed down to catch her breath. She looked behind her to make sure no one was coming after her. She had been running since she woke just before dusk. When she was certain Brian wasn’t coming, she continued moving forward. She wasn’t sure how far the next village was, but she knew that if she entered this town running like a maniac, she would end up in a sanatorium. She had to remain calm and stick to her story. “My husband and I were moving to Oidean when we were attacked and robbed by bandits. I barely escaped but my husband . . . oh, my husband . . . he’s dead.” Moira practiced her lines once again, pretending to sob. She had to be convincing. Her pulse quickened when she thought about what would happen if people didn’t believe her.
She continued to walk through the night. There was no sign of life anywhere around her. Her stomach grumbled and she felt faint. There hadn’t been enough time to save up and pack so she had no food left. She began to fear the worst. She pictured herself dying of starvation and falling to the forest floor, where her emaciated remains would be ripped apart by wolves. The worst part was that nobody would ever know what had become of her.
Would it have been so bad? she wondered, wrestling with her conscience. Brian said he would take care of her. Would it have been so bad to be his wife? Moira slumped down on a moss-covered log to rest for a minute.
It would have been, she decided. It would be better to die of starvation in the lonely forest than be a mother and wife.
She raised her arms above her head, stretching. Her eyes stung, her muscles ached, and her head throbbed. She covered a yawn. She had never been exhausted when she worked from sunup to sundown for the Bards. She scanned the horizon, taking in what she decided would be her final resting place. It was a nice enough area, better than any cemetery she had ever seen. She was sitting in a meadow surrounded by tall leafy trees. The grass was still wet from a recent rainstorm. The fading sunlight glinted through the trees, casting an unearthly orange glow around the peaceful and welcoming clearing. Glancing to her left, she saw a number of large shadows in the distance. Those are some big trees, she thought as she slid backward off the log, closed her eyes, and waited for the hunger pains to overcome her.
“Wait a minute.” Her eyes flew open, and she struggled to pull herself off the damp forest floor. Trying to make her eyes focus, she squinted at the shadows to her left. There were definitely trees, but just past the trees were different shadows—shorter and wider with smoke snaking out of chimneys. Slowly the fog of fatigue and hunger lifted from her mind. They were houses. It was a village. After wandering blindly through the night, afraid she had been walking in circles, she had finally found another village. Moira could barely keep her eyes open. She was so relieved by the sight of the village that all she could think about was sleep. She let herself slide back down onto the decaying leaves and fall asleep.
The sun was up and the sky was a pale blue when Moira’s eyes fluttered open. She stood and brushed the leaves and dirt from her dress. Walking the last few yards into the small village, she continued practicing her lies. “My name is Moira. My husband was killed by bandits . . . we were moving to Oidean . . . they took everything we owned . . . I have nothing left in the world.”
Moira sat down in the grass under a large tree as she watched the small village come to life. This village was smaller than Oidean; it was roughly the same size as Trom. She watched the children head to school and the women depart to the market for their daily shopping. Her stomach lurched as she saw the farmers head out to take care of their morning chores. Her face fell into a frown at the sight. She missed Brian.
Moira was so engrossed watching the morning mayhem that she didn’t see an old hunchbacked woman coming up behind her.
“Excuse me, my child.” The old woman reached a gnarled hand and touched Moira on the shoulder. Moira jumped at the light tap. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle ya.”
Moira pressed a hand to her heart, trying to regain her composure. “That’s all right. I just didn’t see you standing there,” Moira said as her breathing slowed and returned to normal.
“I see,” the old lady said, narrowing her eyes. “I’ve never saw you before. You lost? Do you need help?” Moira knew this was her chance. She drew a ragged breath and began her sob story.
“My name is Moira Bard.” She choked on the last name she had decided to use, but quickly covered it up with a sob. “My husband and I were moving to Oidean when we were attacked by a mob of bandits. They robbed us and took everything we owned. They killed my poor Artair because he tried to protect me.” She paused for effect, wiping away the fake tears that had started to fall. “I barely escaped with my own life . . . and now . . . and now, I’m a pregnant widow!” Moira wailed and let the tears roll freely down her face.
The old woman cocked an eyebrow and looked Moira up and down. “Hmmm.” She looked at her recently pressed dress, her mostly clean black hair, and her tear-streaked but unsoiled face. She pursed her lips and cleared her throat. “Do you have any kin?”
“No, it was just the two of us. We were going to start our own family.” Moira patted her belly and dropped her eyes to the ground.
“Hmmm. I just wanna know one thing. Did you do your old man in yerself?” Moira stopped her pathetic sniveling and looked straight into the old woman’s cloudy gray eyes.
“No, I’m not a killer. I just—”
“Never mind that. I don’t care what you’ve done. Just so long as you’re no killer.” She waited for Moira’s reaction and then continued. “People round here call me Mama Ross. You can stay wit me ’til the babe comes. I know a thing or two about birthing. I’ll take care of you. Just don’t steal from me. Come on now.”
Moira followed the hunchback down the road to a small building that looked more like one of Brian’s storage sheds than a cottage.
“Here we be, lassie.” The old woman led Moira into the yard.
Moira stopped just shy of the gate. “What is this? Is this where you live?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
“You have something better? Maybe you wanna go back where you came from?” The old woman cackled and pulled Moira through the gate to the front door. Inside, Moira looked around the small room. It was quite a bit smaller than the Bards’ cottage. There was a bed to the left of the door right under the window. In the middle of the room was a table and on the back wall was a small wood stove with an even smaller cabinet next to it.
“Where will I sleep?” Moira asked the old woman.
“That quilt you’re wearing will make a nice mattress on the floor. You can’t think I’d give up me bed. I’m just an old woman, gonna die soon, and I needs to be in comfort.” She smiled a toothless grin at Moira.
“Fine. There’s just one thing. I don’t want to be seen by anybody. I don’t want anybody to know I’
m here, so I won’t be leaving the cottage. Is that all right?”
“That’d be fine. You can be my house girl. Always wanted someone to do my chores for me.” The old woman cackled until she coughed.
* * *
For months Brian searched for Moira. He sold most of his animals to pay his way. He searched in every church and in every house in every village he came across. Nobody had seen Moira. It had been almost eight months since she left. He knew that the baby would be coming soon if it hadn’t already.
He sat on a stool in a bar, his tattered, unshaven face hanging over the pint in front of him. He didn’t even know the name of the village he was in. All he knew was that he was far from home. He looked around at the unfamiliar faces in the crowd and wondered what he was doing. The faces of happy strangers swam in front of his drunken eyes and he decided he was done. He had tried. At least he could say that.
“Ya a’right?” the barkeep asked just as Brian passed out. He fell off his stool, hitting his head on the way down. “Get ’im outta ’ere!” the barkeep roared.
“Lousy drunk!” one of the men said as he grabbed one of Brian’s arms.
“Can’t hold his whisky!” laughed another as he grabbed his other arm. The other two just cursed as they grabbed his legs, unhappy having to stop what they were doing to throw him out into the street.
* * *
“Ouch!” Moira bumped her enormous belly into the stove for the eighth time that morning.
“Moira! Where’s breakfast?” Mama Ross asked.
“It will be ready when it’s ready!” Moira yelled over her shoulder where the hunchbacked, cloudy-eyed, white-haired old woman slept. For the last eight months, Moira had been waiting on Mama Ross. The only way Moira made it through was by telling herself it was only temporary. The baby would be here any day now, and then she would leave.
In the twilight hours, Moira would take walks alone in the wood. It was on one of these that she had found a couple on the far edge of the village. She would sneak through the forest unseen and watch them from a stump. They were a lovely couple without any children. This was where she was going to leave her baby. She couldn’t leave it here; Mama Ross was already too close to her the end of her life to take care of a baby too. But a few days now and then, Moira wanted to keep the baby and find Brian. Today was not one of those days.
“Where are my eggs?” Mama Ross asked when Moira dropped a plate of boiled potatoes and cabbage onto the table in front of her.
“There aren’t any eggs left.”
“So go an’ get some!” the old woman croaked.
“You know I don’t go to the market!”
“If he’s not found you yet, he’s stopped looking. Go an’ get me eggs.” Moira looked at the ashen-faced old woman. In the months Moira had been here, nobody had mentioned someone coming to town searching for a missing girl.
“Fine. I’ll be right back.” Moira turned and headed out to the market.
There were clouds gathering across the sun when she stepped out into the road. A cool breeze blew her hair into her face. Moira was unsure when she had seen a more beautiful day. Maybe it wasn’t that nice of a day; maybe she was just happy to be outside. It didn’t matter either way. She started to whistle to herself as she walked along the road into town. A small, familiar bald man was walking out of town. Moira turned to the side and ducked her head as he passed. It was the coin purse man again. The Bards must still be looking for her. Waiting to make sure he was gone, she continued on her way. Entering the town, she glanced back to make sure he hadn’t turned to follow her. Relieved, she rounded the corner by the pub and stopped. She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp.
There was Brian, lying unmoving in the road beside the bar door. He was skinnier than she remembered and he had a full beard instead of his characteristic stubble. Moira felt like her legs were made of lead. She couldn’t move. What had happened to him? She didn’t know how long she stood there in the street staring at his unmoving body. She eased down to the ground and put her hand under his nose. She felt shallow puffs of air. Breathing a sigh of relief, she tentatively moved to caress his face. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. At that moment, thunder ripped through the sky and the clouds released a torrent.
When the water hit Brian’s face, he stirred and his eyes fluttered. Moira jumped to her feet and ran as fast as her swollen feet would carry her.
Moira ran, water saturating her hair and streaming down her face until her dress was soaked. She felt like she was walking through quicksand. As thunder rumbled in the distance, a blinding pain shot straight into her back, causing her to cry out and fall to her knees. Panting on the ground like a sick dog, she looked around to see if she had been struck by something. After a few minutes, her breathing returned to normal and she was able to stand upright. She took a few more steps and another pain seized her, causing her rotund belly to tighten. She arched her back and howled. Pressing both hands into her lower back, she panted through the pain. Slowly, breathing hard, she made it the last of her way home.
“Where are the eggs now?” Mama Ross asked impatiently, drumming her bony fingers on the tabletop next to her uneaten breakfast.
“Brian . . . I . . . pain,” Moira panted, trying to explain. She put her hands on her engorged belly. “Oh!” Moira exclaimed, a look of shock and horror on her face. Mama Ross followed her gaze to the floor and they both saw a puddle under her feet that had nothing to do with the sudden downpour outside.
* * *
Brian opened his eyes just as a short woman with dark hair turned and ran from him. “Oh.” He grabbed his head with both of his hands as he sat up. “Where am I?” But nobody was there to answer his question. He watched the small woman running away. For some reason he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She reminded him of somebody he had known in a previous life. He let the cool rainwater revive him.
Standing up too fast, Brian was forced to grab the wall behind him for support. He tried to take a few steps on severely shaky legs. He felt as if his feet had been cut off. Using the building to steady himself, he looked down the road after the small dark-haired woman.
“Wait a minute!” he yelled, squinting through the rain. On trembling legs, he followed after her. The heavy downpour flooded his vision and he couldn’t make out which way she had gone. He had no choice but to check every house along the way.
Brian had devoted his life to look for her. He had never thought about what he would do if he found her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to come back. “I just want my child.” He moaned and punched a nearby tree.
He searched the village all day. No one knew who she was or had even seen her before. He rounded the last corner on his way out of the village when he spotted a small house that almost blended in. It looked more like a dilapidated storage shed than a house that somebody would live in.
The sun was setting as he walked through the gate into the overgrown yard. He raised his hand to knock when a blood-curdling scream came from inside. He turned to his left to peek through a grimy window. His chest constricted and he couldn’t breathe. There was Moira lying on a small kitchen table. An ancient, white-haired woman stooped down at her feet. Brian watched as this woman wrapped his daughter in a blanket.
Brian stumbled backward and fell with a splat into the mud. He couldn’t breathe, and his vision began to swim as he realized he was crying. The baby was perfect. His baby was flawless. He had to speak with Moira. They could be a family—it was possible. He needed a drink and some time to think. Brian carefully got up out of the mud and headed back into town to put something into his empty belly and have a bath.
14
Mama Ross gently placed the soft pink bundle into the small bed where she slept. “Mmmm,” she breathed out. “I love the smell of a new babe.” Mama Ross looked over at Moira, who was still lying on the kitchen table staring vacantly at the dirty ceiling. “Moira, did you sniff your girl? Did you smell the smell?” Mama Ross smiled a huge toothless grin. Mo
ira rolled her sweaty head over and glared at the older woman.
“After all the pain and agony it caused me, all the time I have lost because of it, you want me to do what? I have no intention of smelling it.” Moira began to cry. A chill crept into the room, and Mama Ross shivered.
An hour passed before Moira moved from the table. She got up, went to the basin, washed herself, and curled up in a chair and went to sleep. Mama Ross stood, watched her breathe for a few minutes, and then turned and joined the small sleeping baby in her bed. After Moira was sure the crone was sleeping, she got up and stole the small bundle from the bed. She had to leave now or she never would. The baby felt perfect in her arms. Moira looked down at the soft pink face and gently caressed a cheek. Her tiny eyes fluttered open and looked at Moira. Mother and daughter stood staring at each other for a few minutes. Moira wiped away the silent tears that had slipped down her cheeks. She wanted to keep this beautiful girl. But she knew she would never be able to take care of a child emotionally or financially. She knew leaving was best for both of them. She wrapped a quilt around her tired body and grabbed whatever food was in the cabinet. Silently, she and the baby disappeared into the night.
* * *
Brian left the tavern feeling much better with a belly full of food. He slowly walked back to the small shack. Once more he rounded the last corner in the village and stopped to watch the dark house where his angel lay sleeping. She was waiting for him to come and carry her home.
A dark figure slipped out the front door. Brian squinted. It was Moira; he was sure of it. He stepped back into the shadows of the closest building. He waited for her to get out of sight, and then he quickly ran to look through the greasy window of the small shack. The old woman was asleep on the bed. He saw the mess still on the kitchen table, but he didn’t see the baby anywhere. He turned the direction Moira had gone. His stomach twisted with anxiety. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as his pulse accelerated and his knees were weak. If Moira got away from him this time, he might never see his daughter again.
Midnight Runner: A Novel Page 9