Midnight Runner: A Novel

by Marilee Jackson

  11

  Relief washed over Moira as she entered the small bedroom and found Brian still asleep. Watching him, she felt the ball of fear form in the pit of her stomach. She began to shake; she was so tired of being afraid of men. This fear was different from her fear of Artair. She had been in love with this man just a few hours ago. Moira was astonished to realize how quickly her warm, loving heart had turned to ice. This man got me pregnant. How could he? I thought he loved me too. Why would he do such a hideous inconsiderate thing?

  Up to this point she never thought anyone could be lower than Artair Bard, but she had been wrong. Brian stirred in the bed. Moira’s whole body tensed, and she pushed back firmly against the wall, hoping she could disappear into the timbers. Maybe then he wouldn’t find her and she would be able to leave undetected.

  Moira watched as Brian reached toward her side of the bed. His eyes popped open when he found her side of the bed cold and empty. Fear appeared on his face. He abruptly sat up and turned to find her smashing herself against the wall.

  “Oh, there you are.” Moira could see his relief. “I thought you had left me again,” he teased. His smile faded quickly when he focused on her face. “What’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet.” His concern made her sick to her stomach. Liar, she thought. If you knew the truth, you would be out cutting a yew branch. She winced at the memory.

  “Nothing” she said through thin, tight lips. Brian opened his mouth to protest. “I just don’t feel very well today,” She added before he could ask more questions.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Why don’t you come back to bed then? I’ll go get you something to eat.”

  “No! I don’t want any food!”

  Brian flinched at her sudden outburst. He had never seen her so upset.

  “Okay, no food. I need to tend to the animals, but you can stay in bed, if you like.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “For as long as it takes for you to feel better. If that’s what you want,” he offered.

  “Oh, thank you for your permission. I’m glad I can do what I would like, Brian.” Every word from her mouth was full of irritation. Moira didn’t raise her eyes to his, but she could feel his puzzled stare burning into her face.

  Brian stood and quickly pulled on his clothes. He stopped next to Moira on his way out the door. He hesitated before lowering his head to touch his lips to her forehead. Moira felt his chapped lips brush her soft skin and flinched away from his touch.

  “Moira . . .”

  “I don’t want you to catch it,” she explained, seeing the alarm on his face. She was trying to sound casual. The last thing she needed was for him to become suspicious and never leave her alone, just like the Bards.

  Nodding his head mechanically, he muttered, “I’ll be back soon to check on you.”

  “No, don’t you worry about me. I’ll be just fine by myself,” she said.

  Looking bewildered, Brian left the room still buttoning his shirt.

  He never even asked me if I wanted children, Moira thought. She sat down on the bed and sobbed as the miserable tears she had been fighting finally fell.

  * * *

  Brian worked blindly through the morning hours, his mind on Moira’s uncharacteristic outburst. He was sure he heard her retching a few times. Maybe she was just sick or having a bad day. Everyone was entitled to a bad day now and then.

  Around lunchtime, Brian went into the house to get something to eat and check on Moira. He peeked through the bedroom door and was pleased to see her sleeping soundly. Satisfied her morning tirade was due to an upset stomach and an inadequate amount of sleep, Brian returned to his duties on the farm.

  * * *

  Moira was relieved when she heard Brian retreat from the doorway. The last thing she wanted was to have to talk to him. As far as she was concerned, she had spoken to him for the last time. But she couldn’t pretend to sleep all day. She had to come up with a plan. She feared she would end up losing her nerve and staying in another abusive situation. As soon as she heard the back door close, she jumped out of bed and tried to pack her few meager belongings. After the fourth interruption of dry heaving, she wished she had taken Brian’s offer to get her something to eat. Throwing up food was so much better than the dry heaving. She looked around the small bedroom she had once thought she might share with Brian forever. She was overcome with sadness.

  The last few months here had almost felt like home. Her chest ached at the thought of leaving, of never seeing Barra, Dolidh, or Brian again.

  Where was she going to go now? She couldn’t even think about staying in Oidean for one more day. She couldn’t go to Allail yet. If anybody saw her in this condition, they would never believe she was of noble birth, much less hire her as a maid. What kind of person finds herself with an unwanted pregnancy and unmarried too? She scoffed at the thought. She racked her brain trying to remember the other villages on the way to Allail. Then it dawned on her she couldn’t head toward Allail. She had already told Brian that was where she was headed. If he were to go looking for her after she disappeared, that would surely be the first place he would go. Moira only knew the way to Allail; she wasn’t sure what was in any other direction from Oidean. Oh well, she thought. It doesn’t matter. There’s bound to be another village in another direction.

  * * *

  Exhausted both mentally, from worrying about what was going on with Moira, and physically, from his extended labors outside, Brian stopped at the water pump and washed his face with cool water before entering the house. Quietly he tiptoed to the door of the bedroom and looked in on Moira. She was still sound asleep. Relieved, Brian let out a whoosh of air.

  Returning to the kitchen, he found himself some bread and cheese, lit an oil lamp, and then took both of them into the front room. He took his Bible down from its place on the top shelf and dropped into one of the chairs. When he finished his dinner, he kicked off his boots and began to read from the familiar book. He was trying to take his mind off the uneasy feeling he had been fighting all day. Now that the dark of night was settling in, it was getting worse. Something was definitely not right; he just didn’t know what it was or how to take care of it. He turned to Isaiah 41:10: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” It was his favorite. It always gave him the peace he needed when times were tough.

  After staring blankly at the same sentence for what felt like hours, Brian stood up to stretch.

  The clock chimed eleven. Brian rubbed his eyes and took his half-eaten plate of food into the kitchen. After stoking the fireplace, he finally and reluctantly went in to join his wife. Brian moved slowly to the bed, trying not to wake Moira. He hated seeing her unhappy. He leaned over, blew out the lamp, and lay down gently into the bed.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes after he came to bed, Brian’s breathing had become deep and rhythmic, and Moira knew he had finally fallen into a deep sleep. Irritated by how long Brian had kept her waiting, she finally got up and pulled her small bundle of clothing and food from under the bed. Moira grabbed an extra quilt out of the closet and wrapped it around herself. This time she wouldn’t freeze. Stopping at the door of the bedroom, Moira turned to look at Brian. Her brow creased as she imagined him waking to find her gone. Finally, as the clock in the front room rang out the last chime of twelve, she left silently, once again, into the cold, dark night.

  12

  For hours Moira walked in the cool night air. While she was relieved that this time it wasn’t quite as cold, she also knew that meant the sun would be up sooner than it had on her last nighttime runaway. Moira was becoming uneasier with each step. The combination of the shorter night and not knowing how far it was to the next village was taking its toll. She had been confident that she was doing the right thing five hours ago when she shut Brian’s door for the last time, but now that she was far away, alone, and unaware of wher
e she was, it didn’t seem like such a brilliant plan.

  Maybe she should have given up on her dreams and stayed to be a wife and a mother. Would it really be that bad? I could turn around. He would take me back if I explain that I was scared. No! What are you thinking? she asked herself. Of course it would be that bad. You are not going to give up on your dreams just because you took a slight detour! You can fix this! she yelled in her head.

  “And I will!” she pledged out loud. She put her hand over her mouth to cover a yawn. She hadn’t slept at all the night before and it was beginning to catch up with her. She decided to stop and sleep sooner than she had originally planned. Once again she searched the forest for an acceptable place to sleep. It took her longer this time, but she found a decent-sized pile of fallen branches several yards off the road, hidden by a dozen large trees. She easily moved part of the pile, slid underneath, pulled the branches over her, and promptly fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  The sun was rising above the horizon when the small band of crude men sauntered into Oidean. They walked into the first building on the street. The sign above the door read “Dolidh’s Inn.” The group all took seats at the bar and the leader pounded loudly on the counter. “Hello! Anyone here?” he bellowed.

  “Hold yer horses. I’m comin’,” Dolidh called from the kitchen. She came out and was startled to see so many men so early in the morning. “What can I do for you?”

  “We want a shot an’ a room for the night.” The leader removed his hat, revealing a head of bright orange hair.

  “Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” Dolidh asked.

  “Look here, woman. We are thirsty and tired of looking for my stupid foster daughter. Just get us some whisky! Got it?” he boomed.

  “Fine, but don’t you yell at me like that in my inn ever again, you dog.” She straightened herself to her full height as she got the men what they wanted. The orange-haired man narrowed his eyes and glared at Dolidh.

  “Who’s that you’re lookin’ for? I know everyone that shows up here,” Dolidh said.

  “My foster daughter. She ran away a few months ago. We’ve been looking for her since. Her name’s Agar. Moira Agar.”

  Dolidh looked at the unkempt man for a few minutes. “What did you say your name was?” she finally asked.

  “Artair Bard. Why? You seen her?” Artair asked.

  “No, I haven’t heard of anyone by that name,” Dolidh answered. “And I know everything that goes on in this village.” It can’t be the same Moira—it just can’t be. This man is disgusting. Moira’d never be around someone like this, Dolidh assured herself.

  “If it’s all the same to you, we’ll still take a look around,” Artair said with a sneer.

  “Suit yerself.”

  * * *

  When the men were finished with their drinking they left the small inn to look for Moira. They started asking the villagers for any information. No one had heard of a girl named Moira Agar. Artair was getting angrier with each no he received. He had been looking for Moira for months. She couldn’t have disappeared into thin air.

  A short blonde girl walked out of the mercantile store, and Artair stopped in front of her.

  “Do you know a girl named Moira Agar? She’s a runaway and I aim ta take her home,” he asked.

  The woman took a frightened step back. “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “The only Moira I know is Moira MacDonald. What does she look like?”

  ”She’s a wee thing, pale skin with raven-black hair, and eyes the color of emeralds,” Artair said.

  A wicked smile lit the woman’s face and her eyes sparkled. “I know exactly who that is and I know where to find her. She is married to Brian MacDonald. Follow me, and I’ll take you to their house.” The woman started walking toward Brian’s farm with a skip in her step. Artair grinned, showing a row of yellow, rotting teeth.

  * * *

  Brian slowly opened his eyes in the gray early morning light. He was hesitant to start the day after the problems that occurred the day before. He blew the air out of his lungs, took a deep breath, and rolled over to check on Moira.

  Ice clutched his chest when he saw that her spot was empty. He jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen; it too was cold and empty. He looked in the front room. No Moira. He checked the other bedroom and out in the barn. He decided to try the bakery, hoping she had felt well enough to go to work. He left the barn and headed down the street.

  The bell above the door rang as he pushed it open and entered the bakery. A young girl was standing behind the counter displaying the fresh baked bread and pastries. “Morning,” Brian said in greeting the baker’s daughter.

  “Hello.” She giggled as she noticed that Brian was wearing nothing but his long winter underwear.

  “Is Moira here this morning?” Brian asked, his voice on the verge of hysteria.

  “No, she hasn’t been in yet.”

  Brian didn’t let the blushing young girl finish before he turned and walked outside. “Dolidh!” he shouted, quickly running the short distance to the inn. A small band of men he had never seen before stared after him is disbelief.

  Brian pushed the door open roughly, causing Dolidh to look up from the counter. “Brian, what in the—” Dolidh stopped when she saw that his face was white as a sheet. “Barra, come quick!” Dolidh hollered over her shoulder toward the kitchen. Barra ran through the doors, wiping his wet hands on a dirty towel.

  “What’re you bellering for, woman?” He turned and looked at Brian, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Brian, that’s a strange getup you’ve got on there!” Barra let out a huge belly laugh when he saw Brian’s bare feet.

  “Moira,” Brian said, staring blankly at his friends. His eyes focused on the staircase at the back of the room. Brushing past Dolidh, Brian clumsily made his way to the stairs, knocking over two tables and four chairs on his way. He ran pitching himself up the stairs to find the room that had been Moira’s. Dolidh and Barra exchanged confused looks and followed Brian up to the second floor of their inn.

  “Brian, what’re you doing?” Barra asked, scratching his balding head.

  “Moira, s-she’s g-g-g . . .” Brian collapsed on the empty bed.

  “We know. She came and told us yesterday. We’re so happy for you,” Dolidh gushed as she wiped at the tears streaming down her face.

  “Huh?” Brian pulled his eyebrows together as he gawked at his friends. “You’re happy Moira is gone? Why?”

  “What do you mean Moira’s gone? Gone where?” Dolidh asked shaking her head.

  For the first time since he came through the front door, Brian actually looked at his friends. “Why’re you so happy for me?”

  “Brian, I’m sure it can be overwhelming, but you’ll be a grand da.” Barra smiled encouragingly.

  “A what?” Brian demanded.

  “Oh, can you believe it? A wee babe! It will be so beautiful having you two for parents,” Dolidh gushed.

  “Wait, are you trying to tell me that Moira is going to have a baby?” Brian felt like he was going to throw up or maybe pass out.

  “Yeah . . .” Barra said, exchanging a confused glance with Dolidh. “She found out yesterday. I was sure she would have told you by now.”

  “Was she happy about it?” Brian closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

  “She was surprised. Don’t you think, Barra?”

  “Yep. Maybe not quite expecting it. She did act a wee bit strange when she left, though.” Barra rubbed the stubble on his chin.

  “Why da you ask, love?” Dolidh said.

  “Because she has disappeared. She’s gone. I can’t find her anywhere.” His head was beginning to ache just above his ears. Brian stood. Moira was gone. She was pregnant. He was going to be a father. But why leave? To where? Brian asked himself. What did I do? Why doesn’t she want to have my baby? She’s my wife. He walked out onto the landing and half fell, half slid down the stairs.<
br />
  “Brian!” Dolidh’s tears were no longer tears of joy. “Are you all right?” Brian didn’t answer. Mechanically he picked up the tables and chairs he had upset on his way in.

  “Sorry about the mess.”

  “Mac?” Barra asked.

  “I’ll leave you to your day.” Brian turned toward the front door.

  “Brian, where’re you going? What’re you going do?” Dolidh called from the top of the stairs. Spinning on his heels, he looked up at Dolidh and Barra.

  “I want my child. I swear I won’t rest until I have found them both.” Brian’s eyes were black with anger, his face a mixture of agony, fear, and resolve. Dolidh jumped when the door slammed shut behind him.

  Brian got to his farm just as a fat orange-haired man was coming out the front door. “What are you doing in my house?” he demanded.

  “I’m looking for my property,” Artair said, hissing at him. “You have my property. Oh, sure, you may’ve married her, but she is my property. Give her back.”

  “What are you talking about? What property?” Brian demanded.

  “Your wife is my foster daughter. She ran away months ago and I want her back. My house is in desperate need of cleaning and I bet her backside could use a good smackin’.” Artair laughed and hit one of his companions on the back.

  “You’re lying!” Brian said. “She was on her way to Allail to live with her aunt after her father died.”

  Artair hooted with laughter. “Is that what she told you? Her father ran out on her no-good mother a long time ago. Her ma died when she was six, and she has been living with us ever since.”

  “No.” Brian glared at the band of miscreants.

  “Aye, mate. She lied to you.”

  “Lies or not, Moira is not anybody’s property. She is my wife and I will never give her to you.”