Page 1 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

Prologue

Oliver

Ten Years Ago

His hand was being pulled in the wrong direction, enclosed in Jesse’s who had taken it without reservation. Going to the left, Oliver knew, would only lead to a dead end, but he kept that bit of knowledge to himself. The longer they were in the maze, the longer they could stay in their own world. The one they had created in between the hedges.

The evening before, Jesse had assured him that today would be the day he’d successfully find the center of the maze without Oliver’s help, but it had been nearly twenty minutes, and they were completely off course. Another left turn, and they stumbled upon a stone bench nestled in front of a wall of white hydrangeas that climbed up the hedge.

“What is it with us and this spot? We always end up here,” Jesse complained.

Oliver smiled, foreseeing this moment happening when Jesse had declared he wanted to lead yesterday evening. “Afraid so.”

“Fine, you win. I give up. Lead the way.”

Jesse stretched to kiss Oliver on the cheek, and a blush spread down Oliver’s neck. There were moments when Jesse’s open and honest displays of affection sometimes took him by surprise. More than once, he wondered if those traits came naturally to Jesse by way of his American upbringing, or if it was part of his own unique personality. A little bit of both, he suspected.

They doubled back, retracing their steps until Oliver found the correct path. The maze felt like an extension of himself; it was simply a part of him. The complex network of plants and leaves mirrored the veins in his body, the breeze blowing through the warm summer air was his blood circulating through him.

With one last turn, the pair came across a straight and narrow path. They were close to the epicenter of the maze, and, in Oliver’s opinion, getting there was the ultimate goal; more so than finding the exit.

At the center of the maze stood an imposing marble fountain surrounded by nine statues, each of which depicted one of the nine Greek muses. When he was younger, he’d play a game with the stone goddesses while Benjamin, Oliver’s grandfather, told him their stories. Oliver would walk steady circles around them, trying to escape their knowing stares, but their eyes always followed his movements no matter where he went.

Jesse pulled them to a stop. “Who’s your favorite?”

The sound of the water flowing through the fountain paired with the rustling of the trees nearby. The birds perched on their branches were loud, demanding an audience, and it all came together to create Oliver’s own personal symphony.

Oliver confidently pointed to the statue directly in front of them. “Euterpe. I don’t really know why she’s my favorite.” Oliver shrugged, sheepish. “She’s beautiful, but sad at the same time. I’ve just always been drawn to her.”

“Which one is Clio?” Jesse asked. Oliver guided him around the other side of the fountain to the statue holding a scroll. There was a pause before he spoke again, his voice quiet. “I remember my mom mentioning her once when she told me about Cambridge. She was part of some club that was named after her.”

Oliver didn’t comment, but instead tightly squeezed Jesse’s hand.

From the outside of the maze, a man’s voice carried over the hedges. “Oliver! Come inside!”

Oliver’s eyebrows pinched together, his heart rate spiking at the unexpected sound of his father’s voice. “That’s my father. I can’t imagine why he’s here.”

“Jesse! We’re leaving!” another voice called.

“And there’s mine,” Jesse flatly replied.

Their day had been cut far shorter than Oliver had hoped, but he dutifully led them back the way they had come towards the beginning of the maze. From the center fountain, it was a longer route than going towards the exit, and he wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Eventually, they passed the hydrangeas again, and Jesse playfully bumped his shoulder. “Tomorrow. I’m confident tomorrow’s the day.”

Oliver returned the gesture. “Five quid says we wind up at the bench again.”

“You’re on.”

Tomorrow never came.

Chapter 1

Oliver

Two Years Ago

The train was packed with students donning their Oxford dark blue as they made their way to London for the annual Boat Race on the Thames. An undercurrent of excitement weaved through the aisles as the Oxford students laughed and assured their friends that this was the year they would take the title from Cambridge. But for Oliver Catesby, technical Lord and future heir to an Earldom title he didn’t particularly care about, there was only frustration that he was on the train in the first place.