The year of training had done little to help Roman understand her memory loss, and now that he was back, her situation felt even more hopeless. Still, he rose early the next morning, intent on getting his chores done before noon so he could have more time with Sienne. The cows had been milked and the animals fed, but he hadn’t had time to muck the stable before his father pulled him aside.
“I want you to call on the neighbors this morning.”
Roman wiped the sweat from his brow, careful not to replace it with something far worse. “The Parsons?” His father had sold them a calf the week before. Hopefully they weren’t returning it.
His father shook his head. “The ones south of us. They’ve hardly spoken to us over the years.”
Roman’s hands stilled over the pitchfork’s handle. “The ones with a daughter my age?”
His father shrugged. “I don’t know how old she is. The priest simply said she’s sick, and he wants all of us to pitch in to help fund treatment.” He handed Roman several notes. “I guess the father has been coming every morning for years to pray for her. The old priest didn’t take him seriously because he kept coming. He figured if the girl was really sick, she would have died by now.”
Roman’s heart beat faster, as if the words meant something, changed something. “And the new priest believes him?”
His father rubbed the back of his neck, brow furrowed. “I think this priest is less concerned about whether it’s true. He’d rather make sure we’re taking care of each other. Maybe then the truth will come out.”
Roman’s chest filled with air, ready to fuel a shout that he knew the truth. That it wasn’t a sickness that could kill her but a sickness of the mind. But the words sounded foolish in his own mind. Even after studying the body for a year, he didn’t understand it. What made him think he could fix it?
His father headed back to the fields, and Roman contemplated the surprisingly generous number of notes in his hand. They wouldn’t help. Short of a miracle, there was no solution to her problem. That was the real reason her father went out each day to pray for her.
But what if she didn’t need her problem solved? What if Roman was willing to take her as she was? They could grow old together, falling in love every single day. He would woo her every morning and wed her every afternoon if it meant he could bring her home with him every night.
Eventually, her parents would grow old. They would need someone else to take care of her. Would it be so terrible if they left that task to him?
Hope burned in Roman’s chest. It had been over a year since he’d asked Laban to let him call on her. Surely her father would take him more seriously now that he was older and more educated. Now that Roman was still making an offer even though he’d had time away to rethink it, Laban would see his sincerity. He would accept.
Roman raced down the road to Sienne’s home, even though crossing through their properties would’ve been much faster. She wouldn’t know him yet today, and he didn’t want to risk scaring her off. Not today.
Laban answered the door, making Roman’s memory of his previous request hit him in the gut as Laban stood with his same hulking form and curious expression.
“I’ve come on behalf of my father.” Roman’s words came out in short gasps as he passed over the crumpled notes. “He wishes to help fund Sienne’s treatment.”
The man blinked several times, the skin around his eyes turning red. “That’s—that’s very kind.” He held the notes back out. “But I can’t accept. There is no treatment.”
Roman shoved his hands in his pockets without accepting the money. “I’m sorry to hear that. I still care very much for Sienne.”
Laban squinted at him. “Are you friends?”
“Of sorts,” Roman said, even though it burned to know he’d already been forgotten. “I’d very much like to be more, though.”
Laban lowered his hand, and Roman could practically see the debate in the older man’s mind over whether to keep the money and turn Roman away or whether to let Roman say his piece until Laban could give the money back.
“I know about her condition,” Roman rushed on, not willing to lose his chance. “And I choose to love her anyway.”
Her father grunted his disbelief.
“I’d wed her this afternoon if you’d let me.”
The air between them grew thick as Laban’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you would.” He took a step forward, forcing Roman back. “And what do you think it would do to her? What if she got pregnant?”
Roman swallowed hard, his face heating. He supposed he hadn’t thought it through as much as Laban. What would it do to Sienne if she woke, stomach swollen with a pregnancy she didn’t remember? And yet a part of him longed for that in their future, for a child with her honey-blonde hair and an infectious giggle. He hadn’t even known it was what he wanted until her father suggested it. And now he ached over the idea that it might not be possible.
“That’s what I thought,” Laban muttered, tossing the money at Roman’s feet. “We’ve tried everything. Spent every last penny on treatments in the city. Now we’ve settled here to live out the rest of our days—in peace.” His voice rose with the last two words, and then he slammed the door in Roman’s face once more.
Roman left the notes on the porch and returned home to his chores.
He was almost late meeting Sienne that afternoon. Part of him couldn’t stand to see her after being rejected by her father, but the other part of him couldn’t stay away. He’d never truly be able to.
“Hello,” he called out softly, not wanting to disturb her as she bent to pick one of the hydrangeas he’d planted the summer before.
She jumped anyway, then laughed as her hand covered her heart. “You scared me.”
Roman smiled, keeping his distance more than usual. It was voluntary torture to be in her presence every day, to start fresh each morning. “Sorry. I’m Roman, your neighbor.”
“I’m Sienne. It’s nice to meet you. We just moved in a few days ago.” She came close to the fence, studying him with something more than curiosity. “You must be the man who came to the house this morning.”
He pulled at his collar, wishing he’d changed clothes after finishing his chores. But then he would have missed her. He leaned against the fence, picking at a knot in the wood.
“My father sent me.” He winced. Did that negate the fact she’d thought of him as a man? When had she even started thinking of him as a man rather than just the neighbor boy?
“It was kind of you—both of you.” Sienne’s smile was genuine, but her eyes held pain. “I wish it were a simple fix.”
“There’s nothing simple about the mind,” Roman said. “Memory is complex, and it’s only a fraction of what our brains do. Trying to fix one element could easily break another. It’s like trying to hold a flowing river in your hands.”
“The brain?” She leaned her elbows on the fence beside him so they were nearly touching. She wasn’t usually so quick to come near, but his father’s generosity must have made her feel safe with a stranger.
“I’ve been studying it for the last year while training to be a physician.” The words didn’t hold the excitement he’d once had. He’d enjoyed the schooling more than he’d anticipated, but knowing it was fruitless to return to his studies, knowing her parents had already exhausted all their options, left him far less motivated. Sienne had always alluded to their troubles in the city, their need to move out to the family’s land. He’d never realized it was because they’d spent all their money on an impossible cure.
“I’m sure that’s intriguing, but it wouldn’t help me. It’s my heart that’s failing.” Her eyelashes fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings, but for Roman, everything slowed, her words echoing in his head with a strange finality.
“Your heart?” His voice came out strangled.
Sienne bit her lip and looked away. “I suppose the truth won’t shock a physician-in-training. The doctors in the city gave me a month to live, maybe two.”
He shook his head, unable to take in her words. It wasn’t possible. She’d been here for years, and she’d always seemed perfectly healthy. Well, except for her memory.
“You’re sure it’s not your memory?”
She laughed lightly, her hand rising to her necklace. “Unless you count my lost pendant. I searched for it all morning, but I can’t remember what I did with it. I must have lost it in the move.”
“But you came out here,” Roman said, letting his words draw out as he tried to put the pieces together. “You came out here because it felt like it might be at the edge of the woods.”
“Yes.” She eyed him strangely. “How did you know that? Are they teaching you mind-reading tricks while you learn about memories?” Her cheeks flushed, and she took a step back, as if she might not want him knowing her thoughts.
His mind raced backward through the day, through his life. Her father hadn’t been worried about her forgetting a pregnancy. He’d been worried about it killing her faster. Except her heart condition hadn’t killed her. Not after one or two months. Not even after eight years. Because for her, eight years hadn’t passed.
She wasn’t just forgetting each day; she was reliving a single day.
Lenora had been right all along. These woods were cursed.
“Are you all right?” Sienne asked.
Roman could have stood there all day taking in her sun-streaked braid and smooth skin, but he’d already wasted an entire year studying the wrong thing. Ignoring the truth because it hadn’t made sense. Hadn’t seemed believable.
Without warning, he rushed through the gate and squeezed Sienne’s hands. “Please, listen and give me a chance. Trust me.”
But instead of talking or waiting for an answer, Roman turned around and pushed aside the rock, digging out the five handfuls of earth that led him to a bright red stone. Sienne gasped and reached for it, but he held it back.
She planted her hands on her hips. “How did you—?”
“Your mother is going to come up the hill.” He could already hear her footsteps. “She’s going to be angry that I dug it up. She’s going to demand that I give it back. But this time, we need to get answers from her first.”