Instead of commenting on their business-based separation (partly because he fears it would be rude; but also because he feels he already knows the story: back in Shantown, there’s an inn at the heart of everything—directly across from the church, actually—that was run by a kind couple during Jarl’s youth; they’ve retired since, being far too old, now, and their kids have actually taken over; but while it was just the two of them, their running of Shan’s Inn had been much the same as the Rose’s: Ciara on day shift and Connor on nights), Jarl simply smiles and accepts his cuppa, thanking the older man quietly.
“My pleasure,” Tobias replies, just as quiet and with a twinkle in his eye. “Everyone deserves a good cuppa.” He laughs quietly at himself before gesturing at the plate of pastries sitting beside the tea set. “And cake!” There’s a charming amount of enthusiasm in him as he points to the little, sugar powered Irish tea cakes; their round, vanilla bodies complimented by various fruits on the side. “Especially if they can’t sleep.”
He looks knowingly at the younger man.
Jarl blushes. He doesn’t say anything, though. Tobias nods and hands him a little plate for his cake—because they both know he’s going to take at least one to be polite—before filling his own which was already waiting.
Although, why he got himself another plate…
(Ah, the big plate is for guests.) Jarl smiles as he thinks of this. One of the many reasons he knew Shan’s Inn and its owners was this very thing: tea and sweets—for free—even though he was never staying there.
He was a guest in a different way, they’d always said.
Like family.
~
Jarl places one of the cakes on his little plate while thinking of Ciara and Connor.
When he was particularly little and liked caramel on literally everything, they’d laughed and entertained him by drawing little faces and shapes and animals on cakes or cookies he called too plain.
Sometimes, they even let HIM draw the things, regardless of the mess.
Jasey ended up loving them, too.
~
“I hear you’re a priest—with a parish to the south?”
Jarl swallows his bite of cake before it melts in his mouth, nodding at Tobias during the interim. “Yes. Shantown. Little place.” The brunette takes a moment to break and breathe deep before smiling softly. “There’s actually a place like this, there, and the couple that used to run it… you remind me of them.”
“O?” the innkeeper prods with a grin, happy—as Jarl thought—to hear this, “We do?”
The younger man nods, relaxing into the counter he unconsciously began to lean against. “Aye. Both of you.” He lifts his hand and makes a V with it before bringing his fingers together as he pulls it down with a smile. “Their names are Ciara and Connor. They used to run Shan’s Inn in shifts just like you two do.”
“Ah…” Tobias nods as his smile turns a bit sad; “It’s a bit of a strain, it is… not being able to see each other… but we’ve learned to make the best of the hour or so we have between shift changes—are they…?”
“O, yes!” Jarl hastily assure the man, realizing how he was making things sound. “They’re still together and very happy. They just don’t run the inn anymore; their kids do.”
“Ah, kids,” the ravenette gives a wistful smile; “We were gonna have some, you know; but this place… eventually, we decided it was more important and, if we loved it right, it could be like our only child.”
Jarl feels his heart pang. There’ve been plenty of people back home with similar stories, people who worked all their lives and couldn’t spare any time for their own children or never hand any to begin with.
Jarl swears he would have had similar stories (from a child’s perspective—which he doesn’t hear enough, really, he should probably get on that when he returns home), himself, if it weren’t for his grandmother, Sorcha, being so loved by everyone that none of them could stand her kids or grandkids being uncared for: Jasey and him both have gone their whole lives being something of village children—adopted by all—especially after people began learning Sign for Jasey.
(He wonders, now, if he’s been spoilt.) [Probably.]
“Well, if I may… I think you did; it’s a lovely child.”
(“… Thank you so much, Reverend.”)
Comments (0)
See all