Maeve in the Morning

By Amanda Gale

She's been hiding a secret for decades. But in order to move forward, she'll need to reckon with the past.

Maeve Sheering always knew she could make a difference, even in high school, when she ran for class president to amplify women's voices. But her efforts were thwarted by Kyle Langahan, the bright but cocky son of scientists intent on taking down a local chemical company that was poisoning the town's water. And when their rivalry triggered events that led to the worst night of her life, she made a point of burying the memory forever.

Twenty-three years later, Maeve is living fabulously. Fiercely independent, wickedly sharp, and infallibly stylish, she's the communications director for a lawmaker passing a promising water safety bill. Then Kyle returns to his hometown, determined to hold the chemical company responsible once and for all. The problem is, his tactics undermine her own efforts to accomplish the same goal.

Their old antagonism comes to a head when Kyle partners with Maeve's boss, throwing them into a reluctant collaboration that could threaten the bill's future. More disconcerting still is that the more she gets to know him, the more she realizes that their differences could be the very qualities that bind them together. The discovery requires letting go of her defenses and facing her vulnerabilities—something she may not be prepared to do.

Easily read as a standalone novel or as the sequel to Catherine and the Wind, Maeve in the Morning is a story about facing demons and learning to trust others—and about how coming together for a shared purpose can lead to surprising self-discovery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda Gale
• Release date: Nov 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798227895868

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

Maeve took a final cursory glance at the last notecard and, exhaling, slipped it once again to the bottom of the stack. She tapped her foot a few times on the floor as she calmed her nerves. Get with it, Sheering , she scolded herself, lifting her chin and tossing back her thick mane of long dark hair. You’ve got this.

Across the stage, hidden behind the left-wing curtain, was her opponent. Kyle Langahan was standing with his arms crossed and his fingers pulling at his lower lip. In honor of the debate, he was wearing his navy blazer over his khaki uniform pants, blue shirt, and tasteful uniform tie. He was straight and serious, with not a modicum of humor. He didn’t even seem to care that she was there; he was watching the principal as he spoke at the podium, waiting for his name to be called as if he already had it in the bag. His patience annoyed her. It was as if he couldn’t even deign to be nervous. As if he knew the entire class was going to support him. As if this whole debate was just a waste of his time.

His smugness irritated her more than anything. You couldn’t even have a conversation with him. Kyle was always right—at least, he was to Kyle. And no one seemed to question it. They took his arrogance as knowledge, his staunchness as superiority.

Well, not Maeve. Maeve had talked with him outside the principal’s office before Mr. Heller interviewed them as candidates for senior class president. They’d been going to school together for four years, and she’d never really talked to him before; though they’d had many of the same honors classes, they always sat across the room from each other—his last name was L, hers was S. Their friend circles didn’t overlap—come to think of it, she didn’t even know who he generally hung out with. He talked to people, sure, but he had this attitude, so cold and impassive, like he didn’t have time. Maeve guessed that’s why his grades were so good: it was widely acknowledged he’d be valedictorian. Maeve herself would be second in the class. It was kind of a shame they’d never actually spoken.

Maeve had decided to give him a chance.

Hey, she’d saluted him brightly as they met at the end of the hallway, having left their respective classes to walk to Mr. Heller’s office. She’d smiled at him as they walked together, but he hadn’t turned to look at her. Are you ready?

Yes.

She’d waited for him to ask her the same question, but he hadn’t.

Congratulations on Princeton, she’d said. I heard you got in by early admission.

Thank you.

That was it. He gave her nothing.

Maeve tried again.

I got in early admission to Vassar, she said, offering him a polite smile. It’s such a relief to know where you’re going, right?

Yes. Congratulations.

They walked along in silence for a time.

I guess you’re going to be valedictorian, she said finally, unless I catch up.

You won’t catch up.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. What the actual hell? How are you so sure about that?

He shrugged. I don’t intend to let my grades slip.

They continued on down the hall.

So what did you do last weekend? she asked him, somehow knowing she’d regret it.

I went with my parents to a protest at Brown & Little.

She looked at him again. The chemical company right in Charlottesville?

Yes.

I assume this is related to the PFAS leak.

Of course. They’ve been ignoring regulations for years, but Virginia ClearStream lets them do it.

They do? I hadn’t heard anything about that.

My parents are professors at the Virginia Science Institute. They’re working on a paper on PFAS and its effects on our drinking water. They say it’s all connected.

And they dragged you along to the protest?

No, he said, a little testily. I wanted to go. I actually care about the environment.

Maeve wasn’t sure if he was suggesting she didn’t and decided against one of her typical snarky comebacks, just in case. She waited some time before speaking again.

Well, I also had an interesting weekend, she said, though he hadn’t asked. I went to a dinner in honor of Representative John Anderson. My dad’s a state senator, as you may know.

I know.

Well, then you also know he was key in passing the Land and Water Protection Act.

Yes, it was a decent start.

Maeve raised her eyebrows. Excuse me?

I said it was a decent start.

I heard you.

She let a few moments go by.

My dad’s cosponsored many similar laws, and he’s called for strict sanctions on Brown & Little. We care about the environment, too.

Kyle snorted. You have to make waves if you really want change. Politics is for sellouts and hacks.

Tell me how you really feel. Jackass, she added in her head.

Kyle said nothing. He was walking along, his hand on his backpack strap as it hung over his shoulder.

What did you do after the protest? she asked.

I bailed my parents out of jail.

Maeve burst out laughing. Finally, he looked at her. The seriousness of his expression told her he wasn’t kidding.

Oh. She cleared her throat. What, you didn’t get arrested, too, slacker? she joked.

My parents wouldn’t let me in the building.

Maeve did not know what to say to this. She was regretting her decision to try to make conversation with him. He was really quite impossible to talk to.

It’s probably just as well, she said. You don’t want an arrest record before you even go to college.

There are more important things in life than college, he said, surprising her with the firmness of his voice. I wish they had arrested me.

What good would that possibly do?

It would show them that I’m serious, that I won’t let them get away with poisoning us.

You can do that much more effectively if you’re not incarcerated.

It’s all a distraction. They turned the corner; Mr. Heller’s office was at the end of the hall. Maeve eyed it longingly: this conversation couldn’t be over soon enough. If you want to make a difference, you have to keep your eyes on the prize. You can’t worry about yourself. You can’t let emotion get in the way of your goal. No distractions. That’s what my parents say.

I just mean that there are ways to make change that don’t involve potentially ruining your future.

No offense, but how many protests have you been to?

‘No offense’ is the kind of thing people say when they’re about to say something rude but don’t want to look like an asshole.

You didn’t answer my question.

Maeve inhaled, her jaw working and her eyebrows turned downward. I haven’t been to any protests, she admitted. But I’ve worked in my father’s office and sat in on General Assembly sessions. I’ve been behind the scenes and watched him further the same goals you do, without pissing everybody off. I just think it’s better to work within the system.

Then you’re incredibly naive.

Maeve stood still and glared at him, resisting the urge to kick him as he walked ahead of her into Mr. Heller’s office.

Things hadn’t gotten any better inside.

Ladies first, Mr. Heller had said, smiling across his desk at her. He leaned back in his chair and swiveled in it casually. What issue will you run on? How will Maeve Sheering improve the school?

Maeve sat straighter and lifted her chin a little higher. Well, she began, I’d like to focus on wellness. I think we can be doing more to make sure students feel safe and healthy at school.

Mr. Heller nodded. I see. And what do you propose for the improvement of health and wellness?

For starters, I’d like to institute a student mentor program between older and younger students. If a younger student needs some guidance, an older student can share their wisdom and support.

Uh huh. Good. What else?

I think we can take girls’ health more seriously here. For example, I’ve talked to a lot of girls who feel that male athletes’ health is prioritized. A lot of treatments in the trainer’s office are catered specifically to male needs and aren’t as effective for girls. Our needs should be more normalized.

Mr. Heller said nothing. The corner of his mouth twitched. Oh? he answered, folding his hands and swirling a little in his chair.

And it isn’t just athletes. We should have free tampons in all the girls’ bathrooms. We shouldn’t have to miss class to run to the nurse’s office. We have…

She trailed off, thrown momentarily by the change in Mr. Heller’s face. It was something between a smirk and a grimace, and she watched it in profile as he turned from her, his face now beet red.

She cleared her throat and continued, making her voice steady. We have girls getting late notes after nurse visits, and it can be embarrassing. Or sometimes teachers won’t let them leave mid-class. It’s time for us to be more evolved.

Mr. Heller suddenly laughed. Ah, he said, rubbing his face in his hands. Ah, okay.

What’s so funny?

It’s not that it’s funny, it’s just— He cleared his throat. This isn’t something we need to waste time on here, missy.

But getting your period is a fact of life. It isn’t something to be ashamed of. I think your discomfort is part of the point, which⁠—

That’s enough.

Maeve stopped talking and glared at him. Beside her, Kyle shifted in his seat but said nothing.

Mr. Heller leaned forward now and clasped his hands on the desk. I advise you not to bring this up in the debate tomorrow. It’s inappropriate, and you’ll make the wrong impression.

What impression would I make?

Mr. Heller didn’t answer, but Maeve knew what he meant. Fire burned within her, making her blood boil and race.

"It’s only inappropriate to you, she said coolly, before she could stop herself, because society is misogynistic."

You saying I’m misogynistic?

I said society is.

You’re pushing the line, young lady.

It just isn’t a big deal. She’d reached a point she always did in these situations, when the tumbling of nervousness in her belly made way for all-consuming resentment—of patronization, of unfairness, of stupidity. I’m talking about a normal bodily function, and you’re telling me it’s inappropriate.

You’d better start showing some respect. Or you’ll be removed from the running for class president.

Maeve’s glare turned to ice, but she leaned back in her seat, momentarily silenced.

Mr. Heller turned his attention to Kyle. He now sat straight at his desk, giving him his full attention.

Your turn, Kyle. What issues will you focus on as class president?

I’m very concerned about the pond behind the school, Kyle responded. It’s completely overtaken with algae. It’s inhospitable for life. I’d like to form an environmental club. I’d like to test the phosphorus levels of that pond and, if we find them high, which we will, I’d like the environmental club to create a floating island with plants that will reduce those levels. It’s probably the result of urban runoff. We should petition the Brown & Little factory in town to make them clean up their waste. We should also contact our state representatives to get them to change the laws that let them get away with it.

A floating island, you say? Mr. Heller was writing on a notepad. Interesting. A noble enterprise.

Maeve discreetly rolled her eyes. A floating island? That was possible, but tampons weren’t?

Mr. Heller put his pen down and smiled at Kyle. Go on. How does that work, exactly?

It’s essentially a floating wetland housing native plants that can reduce the phosphorous levels, preventing algae from thriving. The roots grow through a mat and into the water.

That actually does sound cool, Maeve allowed, hating to admit it. What’s the benefit to the school? Just curious.

Kyle turned and stared at her.

It helps the ecosystem, he said, slowly, as if she were incapable of understanding. We all have to live here. Protecting our resources is the single best thing we can do for the school and the community. Conservation is the only important issue there is because our future depends on it.

"Well, I don’t know that it’s the only important issue, Maeve countered, deliberately quashing her irritation to make her voice casual. My issue affects futures, too. You have no idea how girls’ mental health is affected by things like this."

I’m not saying it isn’t. I’m just saying it won’t be an issue at all if none of us are here because we’ve destroyed our Earth.

Earth won’t be destroyed if there’s algae in the pond, said Maeve, beginning to feel her patience slip. You want to feel like it’s the end of the world, try waiting in the nurse’s office with your period and hoping you don’t bleed onto the chair.

"All right, all right, said Mr. Heller, waving his hands, a little desperately, in Maeve’s opinion. Just calm down. That’s quite enough. He turned to Kyle. My apologies for the interruption. Go ahead and finish."

Kyle cleared his throat. I took it upon myself to draw up written plans, he said, digging into his backpack. These files explain how to make and maintain the islands, as well as the levels we’d aim for. It would be a great assignment to add to the science curriculum. Students can continue to monitor phosphorus levels and test quality. We could even plant a butterfly garden.

Well, it’s plain that you’ve done your homework. I like your ideas very much.

Kyle nodded. Maeve looked to the side, frustrated.

After the interviews, Kyle and Maeve had exited into the hallway together before going separate ways toward their classes.

You might have said something in there, she told him, slinging her backpack onto her back.

He looked at her. What are you talking about?

She didn’t want to explain it to him; she was ready to just get to her class. When Heller was being all Heller. Skeeving out just because I said the word ‘period.’

Kyle flushed but didn’t look away. I don’t know what you think I should have said.

You could have stood up for me. Told him it was a good idea. Objected when he called me ‘young lady’ and ‘missy.’

For a flicker of a moment, the corner of his mouth ticked upward. I don’t think you need a guy to stand up for you.

Maeve narrowed her eyes. Look at him, she thought, with his curly brown hair and his tallness and his pretty green eyes. He might have even been cute if it hadn’t been for his personality. She shook her head. Just look at him.

Of course I don’t! she told him. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t help.

It isn’t my job to make your case for you.

I’m not asking you to make my case for me. The fire was rising higher; he was completely missing her point. But as a boy, you already have a leg up with Heller. You could call misogynists out on their shit, instead of leaving it all to girls. Civil justice sort of demands it.

You weren’t exactly supportive of me, either.

You weren’t being laughed at.

Well, now you know, he said, hitching his backpack higher, why you can’t work within the system.

And with that, he’d walked away.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Maeve Sheering to the stage.

Maeve stood straight and inhaled to steady herself against the quick pounding of her heart beneath her ribcage. Here we go, she told herself. No time to fixate on the past. She took a step onto the stage, glancing once more at Kyle as she did so. He had turned his head to watch her take her place behind her podium. Their eyes met, locking for an unexpected moment of shared purpose and understanding. And just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the sharpness of antagonism. Maeve raised her chin and stalked calmly to the center of the stage, where she shook Mr. Heller’s hand and turned to the left to stand behind her podium. Where is he? she wondered, a little desperately, her eyes searching the crowd for one person in particular. Though she wanted to impress her classmates, his was the opinion she truly cared about.

And now please welcome Kyle Langahan.

Maeve did not turn as Kyle emerged and took the podium beside her. A group of football players toward the front grew rowdy, knuckling each other and laughing, cheering Kyle on. Sitting among them, on the periphery of the group, was the one she was looking for.

Nate, she breathed, inhaling deeply, not even caring that her carefully constructed stone exterior was melting before the eyes of the entire senior class. There you are. The most attractive guy in the school, at least in her eyes—brown hair, average height, cute but in a quiet way—he’d occupied her dreams since junior year, when they’d worked on a Shakespeare presentation for their honors English class. He’d been nice to her, but shy, unyielding; they hadn’t spoken since, but she’d thought of him every day. He wore the same easy, calm expression as always, and she smiled in spite of herself.

Go Kyle! one of the boys shouted, his hand at his mouth. The others cheered and clapped. Nate, still smiling, clapped, too, but said nothing.

Maeve braved a brief glance at Kyle. He was staring forward, serious as always, seemingly immune to the ruckus right before his eyes.

Maeve shook off her thoughtfulness and hardened herself once more. She looked out into the crowd. The entire senior class was here, and she had to convince them she was the right woman to get the job done. She gazed upon them and understood again what a tough job it would be. Some of them would ignore her; some would laugh. Still others would hate her, either for speaking her mind or for doing something they themselves could not. But she felt strongly that they needed her voice, whether they appreciated it or not. She couldn’t change the world, but she could change her school. Maybe by putting herself out there, she could show other girls that they could put themselves out there, too. Maybe she could show the boys that her voice had power, and value.

Biff! someone shouted, and a murmur of laughter followed.

Maeve furrowed her brow and looked toward the front of the room, to the right, where the group of boys sat huddled together goofing off. What the hell was biff?

Ahem, Mr. Heller said into the microphone, and the tittering in the room quieted.

Thank you, seniors, for joining us for the class president debate.

We were forced to!

The room erupted in laughter. Everyone was now looking toward the boys in the right-hand corner. Mr. Heller stiffened and boomed into the microphone.

That’s enough!

The room was silent.

Maeve glanced to her right at Kyle. He was standing straight and still, hands on the sides of his podium, staring stone-faced into the crowd.

She faced forward once more, then suddenly turned back to her right. Kyle was now looking at her. Their eyes met. His face remained impassive. He turned again toward the class.

Mr. Heller waited a moment until he was sure he wouldn’t be interrupted. Then he relaxed, took the microphone in his hand, and addressed the class.

You’re here today to hear from two of your talented classmates, he said. Each candidate for senior class president will begin with a one-minute opening statement. Then we will allow questions from the audience. You will vote for senior class president at the end of the day.

The room hummed with mumbling and snickering. Mr. Heller tapped the microphone, and the noise died down once more.

Mr. Langahan won the coin toss— he began.

Go Kyle!

Mr. Heller ignored this outburst and continued.

—and so he will give his opening statement first. I expect everyone to give the candidates their full attention.

Maeve’s heart pounded as Mr. Heller stepped to the side of the stage, where a chair was waiting for him. Kyle had been watching him as he took his seat. At the principal’s nod, Kyle turned to the crowd and began.

Fellow seniors, he said, welcome, and thank you. I’m here to speak with you today because I want to bring you on a journey. Let’s be frank. We live in an affluent town in an affluent county. Most of us are members of privileged families, with many advantages. As such, we have many opportunities that others in our community do not. I’m talking opportunities not only to better ourselves but also to better the world for other people. And we should. We should make the world a better place. It’s our responsibility to do our part to give back to the community.

Kumbayah!

Laughter once again from the crowd. Maeve was now seriously annoyed. In the audience, the group of boys were nudging each other and snickering; around them, kids were beginning to show they were over it, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes.

Maeve glanced at Kyle, who was standing straight and silent as before, his face stony and his jaw set.

After a moment, as the room quieted, he continued.

As your class president, I will improve our school by helping us improve ourselves. For example, I want to start by doing something about the contaminated pond behind the campus. This is an easy project that can have huge ripple effects in the environment. I want our science classes to make floating wetlands⁠—

Wetlands!

—that can counter the toxicity of the water and ensure more life can flourish there. It’ll be not only valuable, but also fun.

Wetlands!

Oh, grow up, murmured Maeve, rolling her eyes, before she could stop herself.

Kyle closed his eyes a moment, waiting for the laughter to subside.

Ah, excuse me, said Mr. Heller, rising, his finger in the air. That’s enough. Enough!

Maeve settled behind her podium, shaking her head. Her eyes were drawn to the boys to the side. They were all goofing off and snickering together—all except Nate, who was watching her with a smile on his face, his eyes twinkling slyly.

Maeve’s heart tumbled in her chest, and her breath came a little more quickly. She smiled back at him, goofily, conscious of all the eyes on her but unable to prevent herself from falling under the spell.

The boy next to Nate shot Maeve a mischievous grin and nudged Nate with his elbow. Nate did not respond, but continued looking at her with that smile. Maeve blinked a few times, trying to gather her thoughts.

Our school excels when it comes to making our own lives better, said Kyle, his voice firm as he spoke very close to the mic, demanding everyone’s attention. There’s the gardening club, the spirit club, and of course the yearbook and prom committees. We should celebrate them, and we should continue to take part in them. But it isn’t all about us. It’s about looking at the world outside our own doorstep and recognizing that not everybody has it as easy as we do. If that’s their burden to bear, then this is ours. Thank you.

Maeve clapped along with the audience. No denying it, his speech was very good. He really did care, she had to give him that.

The group of boys walloped and cheered; everyone else clapped politely. Kyle ignored it all, staring stonily forward. Holy hell, thought Maeve. He wasn’t kidding about no distractions.

Mr. Heller rose and spoke into his microphone.

And now we will hear from Miss Maeve Sheering.

Biff!

Maeve sighed with exasperation. At Mr. Heller’s nod, she turned to the crowd.

She cleared her throat.

Greetings, fellow seniors, she began, and thank you for this opportunity to speak to you today. I think my opponent here—she turned and gestured to Kyle, offering a conciliatory smile—has some very good, unique ideas about how we can make a difference in this world. She faced the class once more and put her hands on the sides of her podium. I, too, want to make a difference in the world, but I want to do it by starting at home. As your class president, I’d advocate for many changes, little changes that, by making your lives better, would provide a safer, more positive environment that can support us as we go out into the community. She paused. I agree we need to look outside ourselves, but I think before we do that, we need to clean our own house, so to speak, she added, ad libbing.

She paused. The room was silent, everyone’s attention rapt. To the right, the group of boys nudged and shouldered each other; Nate was watching her seriously, hands folded in his lap.

Um, she began, blinking to clear her head. I believe that in order for us to do our best for the community, we have to have confidence in ourselves and the guidance to achieve it. The first thing I’d do is institute a student mentor program. I don’t know about you, but when I was a freshman, I felt lost and overwhelmed. I was lucky enough to have my sister, who was a senior, to help me figure out what to do. But not everyone has an older sibling to help. That’s why I’m proposing establishing a program to provide student-led guidance for all incoming freshmen and for any other student who needs it.

Light clapping from sporadic hands throughout the room. Maeve took a breath and continued.

I also firmly believe that in order for us to grow as a school, we all need to be represented equally. Many people don’t realize this, she said, but the last six senior class presidents have been boys. In fact, since the school went co-ed thirty years ago, there have been only two girl presidents.

She waited for a reaction from the room, but it was silent. She swallowed, then cleared her throat and spoke more forcefully.

What this means in practical terms is that girls are underrepresented. As a result, this school largely is set up for boys, and there aren’t a lot of people to advocate for our needs.

There was murmuring throughout the room, and a few giggles. Maeve took this as a sign that she had gained their interest, and kept going.

There are many things we can do to level the playing field for our female students, she said. The first is hiring a female athletic trainer so girls feel comfortable participating in our sports teams.

A boy in the group to the right let loose a high-pitched catcall, and a rumbling of laughter followed. Maeve leaned closer to her mic to make sure she was heard.

I think girls’ uniforms should include a pants option in addition these skirts. I’d also like to speak to our English teachers about opening up the canon to female writers. This year in AP English, we’re reading six books by men and only one by a woman. We need to be more aware of women’s voices so we can fight misogynistic tropes we witness every day.

She was losing them; she could see in the way they were whispering to each other or studying their fingernails, yawning. Maeve glanced over at Mr. Heller, who was watching her, and at Kyle, who was still staring out into the crowd. A hum of bored murmuring was beginning to spread throughout the room. She knew what would get their attention. Setting her jaw, she gripped the side of the podium and leaned into her mic once more.

Also, she said, talking above the din, we need to destigmatize the mere act of being female. We need free tampons in all the bathrooms.

This time, the reaction was extreme. The entire room seemed to explode with noise, the gasps and laughter and exclamations all jumbling together until, like an animal, it seemed to roar from below. No one was taking this seriously.

Maeve was irritated.

You can pretend it’s funny, she said, almost forgetting she was on stage and speaking into a microphone in front of her principal, "but