Page 50

Claire

O utside, the world was white again, covered in a thin blanket of fresh, sparkling snow. The horses’ hooves made satisfying crunching sounds as we followed the western trail from Summerhurst into the woods.

“Overgrown now,” John remarked as he ducked out of the way of a tree branch on Ghost’s back. “Usually every spring, I’d go through and clear it. Two years has caught up with it.”

Poppy was quiet under me, following Ghost’s lead, but she was responsive to my every move and touch. It was easy to see why Danny said she was good for a beginner; she knew exactly what to do and was highly responsive to direction.

We rode for a long time through the forest, our path obscured by the overgrown brush. Eventually, though, John dismounted and began to lead Ghost off the trail.

“It’s off the main path,” he explained. “Not much farther.”

I copied him, leading Poppy through the trees until we reached a wide-open meadow.

Tall, brown grass swayed in the winter wind, giving way to a flat area with a large, partially frozen pond that was fed by a small spring falling from a rock wall beside it.

A willow tree, naked of its leaves, curved over the water.

The meadow was beautiful even in winter.

Peaceful and secluded, it felt hidden away from the world—a place where one could go to escape.

We led the horses to the pond for a drink, and John spread out a thick blanket underneath the barren willow tree, then motioned for me to sit with him.

I settled beside him, watching the spring trickle water into the pond.

“This was always my favourite spot,” John said. “Sometimes for hunting or fishing, but also just to get away from everything. I never brought anyone before.”

I gave him a skeptical look. “Even Kimmy?”

He gave me a small, affectionate smile.

“Nope. Just you, compound girl.”

“You haven’t called me that in a while,” I said with a laugh.

“Maybe because you aren’t one anymore.”

I sighed. “Wish everyone else felt that way.”

“They will,” John replied. “But I want you to know that your life isn’t about making everyone else happy at your own expense anymore. You’re free now.”

Touched, I reached out and took his hand. “I’m just afraid of what might come. Especially once they figure out…”

I trailed off, biting my lip. Asha’s words about my fertility had been hitting me harder since the fire.

The Valley needed people—babies. Being able to provide that might’ve been my one saving grace in a community that distrusted me.

Worse, maybe Asha was right; maybe John would come to resent me for it.

“Figure out what?”

The look he gave me was so tender, so kind, that I wanted to weep.

Instead, I managed to clear the stone of emotion lodged in my throat and said, “You know about my implant, and…it’s why we’ve never had to be careful, right?

I can’t get pregnant, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.

Theoretically, my implant’s functions can be deactivated remotely, but…

it seems unlikely that we’ll find an opportunity to do that. ”

I took a breath. “I may never be able to give you children. I didn’t want to talk about it when you proposed, because I was just so happy, but…it seems un fair not to bring it up. Especially since people will wonder eventually.”

“That’s between us,” John said curtly. “Not their business.”

“Maybe. But what about you?” I asked, fidgeting. “I don’t want to take something from you that you really want. If…if you had second thoughts about—”

“Second thoughts?” he interjected sharply, a crease forming between his brows. “You think I didn’t consider this before I asked you to marry me?”

“I don’t know,” I conceded. “But we never discussed it at length before because…well, when we first started sleeping together, we weren’t sure where it was going.”

John huffed, amused.

“Maybe you weren’t,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “After our first time together, I knew I wanted more. My hang-up was that you didn’t seem so keen on me .”

I smiled in spite of myself. “I was. I just didn’t want to think about what that might mean at the time.”

We were quiet for another moment before John put an arm around my shoulders and pulled my bulk against his, laying his head on top of mine.

“What if I couldn’t give you children? It’s possible. I haven’t tested it out, have I?”

A reluctant giggle escaped me. “I guess not.”

There was a keen whistle of wind through the woods, and I shivered.

“Would you not want me anymore, Claire?” John asked quietly. “Not love me anymore?”

A painful lump rose in my throat at the thought.

“Of course I’d still want you,” I whispered.

“Then you already know how I feel.”

He tilted my head back and kissed me, slowly and sweetly.

My heart felt all aflutter when we broke apart, and he rested his forehead against mine, closing his eyes and breathing deeply—the way he did during moments he wanted to savour.

I allowed my own eyes to flutter closed.

I imagined coming back here in the spring, with the wildflowers abloom, the willow tree thick with leaves, and the sun shining.

A new place for us to share, to mark our new beginning .

“So, you haven’t dreamed of a family?” I asked after a moment.

John shrugged. “I didn’t have high hopes I’d even get married before you. There was nobody I wanted to do that with. Becoming an outrider was my dream before.”

“And now?”

He kissed my forehead. “Now, my dream is you.”

I sighed as he ran a hand through my hair.

“What do you want?” John asked, reminding me that for the first time, what I wanted actually mattered.

I bit my lip. At the Cave, I’d known that I’d have to apply to have a child one day, and that it was expected of me.

I also knew that a group of faceless bureaucrats would be the ones who’d decide for me either way.

I’d resigned myself to motherhood the way that one resigns oneself to household chores: necessary, inevitable, unavoidable.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I always just assumed I’d have to. But…I think for now, I want to have a life that’s just about us and the people we love. I want to enjoy our time together, now that we’re not as focused on bare survival.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Well…if one day, you had our baby, I’d be happy.

I’d work hard to be a good husband and father to both of you.

But if all I get is to watch you get stronger, sweeter, more beautiful as the years pass…

to grow old with you, and know that we spent our lives happy together?

That’s more than enough for me. You are enough for me. You’re everything.”

Happiness swelled inside of me. He was more than I deserved, this man I was marrying. He was more than I’d ever have dared to ask for. My throat ached.

“Damn it, John,” I choked out. “Do you have to be so wonderful?”

He laughed and kissed the top of my head. “You bring it out in me.”

“Smooth,” I teased, and he chuckled again and gave me an affectionate squeeze.

“Before we know it, this trial period will be over,” he said after a moment. “I know it’s hard right now, with the way everyone’s been. They’re just scared. I know they’ll come around; they’re family.”

I nodded hesitantly. “I just…I’ve always been looking for my place, I suppose. Even back at the Cave, I felt like I was searching for it.”

“I know. But sometimes, you have to make a place for yourself. Find a space where something’s missing and fill it. ”

I shot him an accusatory look. “You’ve been talking to Jenna.”

“Yep,” he replied without an ounce of regret, his eyes serious.

“There’s a place for you here, Claire. But if you’re hoping for someone to give you permission, they won’t.

You’ve gotta claim it, and not give a shit what a few bad apples say about it, because you fucking belong here. Prove it to them.”

He’s right. I recalled the conversation we’d had when I first started to live at the camp with him and Kimmy. He’d called me out on my arrogance about learning to survive…and he’d been right then, too. I could always count on him to tell me what I needed to hear, to jolt me out of my fear response.

“Alright,” I sighed. “I need some paper, a pen, and Jenna. And maybe a ride to the Lodge.”

John grinned. “You got it.”

The schoolroom was at least orderly…even if I wasn’t sure how it had housed all the school-aged children in the Valley.

The room wasn’t small, but with 40 desks crammed into it, it felt a little claustrophobic.

I sat behind the teacher’s desk at the front, flipping through the documents that Dr. Irons had left behind, making notes with a pen.

“It was cramped,” Jenna admitted as she helped sort through the paperwork. “We traded off days between the older and younger kids. I mentioned to Dr. Irons that the council should build a schoolhouse, but…I don’t think he took it seriously. I was only his assistant for a couple months.”

I nodded absently. There’d been a whole file cabinet full of his lesson plans, as well as files on each of the students.

Useful, but as I expected, his curriculum was lacking.

Much of it was too advanced for the age groups he was teaching, and his lesson plans involved no aspects of experiential learning.

Worse, the younger children’s education was clearly being neglected in favour of the older kids.

The schoolroom had books—all stacked in piles on a forlorn-looking bookshelf at the back of the room—but clearly lacked the space to store them. As a result, its selection remained relatively limited, and the books present were mostly classics and Old World science textbooks.

“How bad is it?” John asked, reading my expression.

I tapped my pen against the desk. “Define ‘bad.’”

He chuckled. “How much work is it?”

I took a deep breath before replying.

“I’ll need to create a new curriculum,” I said.

“Some of the professor’s lesson plans can be repurposed, but…

everything is in dire need of an update.

It won’t be easy. We’ll need materials, and I agree with Jenna that a schoolhouse will be needed eventually.

We can make do with switching between age groups for now, but going to school two days a week just isn’t enough.

Which means we’ll also eventually need more teachers. ”

Jenna blew out a breath. “That’s a lot.”

“It’s almost like leaving a crusty old bastard in charge of education for like thirty years was a bad idea,” John quipped. “Whatever you need, let me know. If we can’t make it here in the Valley, I’ll add it to the scav list.”

“Books are the main thing,” I said, massaging my temples. “As many books as possible, on every subject. Fiction and nonfiction.”

“We have books,” Jenna supplied. “There are boxes and boxes of them in storage in the Lodge cellar. Some were used for school in the past. But the others are unsorted. Oisín wanted to get them all catalogued, but…”

John’s expression briefly darkened, but I pressed on.

“Good, thank you,” I said, encouraged. “Well, any time anyone finds a new book from now on, they should deliver it to me. I’ll come up with a filing system for all of them. Finding storage will be another problem, but…”

“We can keep them in the cellar for now,” John supplied. “But it sounds like we’ll be adding a library to that schoolhouse.”

I buried my face in my hands. “This is a huge project. They’ll never go for this.”

“Claire, this is why you have to do this,” Jenna insisted. “You’re the only one who knows what we’re missing. You know so much that nobody else does, and it’s not their fault, but they don’t know what they don’t know. You can help us rebuild some of what’s been lost to time. ”

“I don’t want to be the rowdy outsider that comes in and tells them they’ve been doing it wrong for decades,” I replied with a sigh.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jenna said. “You just have to show them what you can do.”

The certainty in her voice gave me strength. I’d only known Jenna a short time, but she believed in me. And even if I never had children, I could make a difference in the lives of dozens of kids just by doing the job I’d been trained to do.

“Alright,” I said, standing. “Let’s get started.”