Married... to the church.  Oh dear.  Mable is sure Father Brennan does not mean for it to sound so sad, but she can't help the grimace on her face as he speaks.  She smooths it out as best as she is able to when he tries to reassure her, but Mable is still unconvinced.

"I'm sure you would be able to help just as many people whether you were able to get married or not," she said dubiously, but shook her head.  "As long as you're happy, Mr. - Father Brennan, I think that's all that matters."

She gave the man a bright smile from below the brim of his hat and patted his arm.  Yes, his happiness was all that mattered, and if he found it in the church, who was Mable to criticize him?

"I hope my brother will be a good husband one day too, but I do worry about him.  He's a trouble maker, you know, and he's not nearly as tall as you, Father Brennan.  Tragic, don't you think?  Our dad was very tall - maybe taller than you, even.  It's a shame my dear brother isn't."

As Mable spoke, she again stuck out a hand again to point at nothing in particular, as if scolding a child, and her voice took on a tone that bordered on frivolous.  If that wasn't enough, it was obvious from her suppressed grin that this was a common topic she used to tease her brother.  She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"There's hope for him yet, I think, but not for long.  If he doesn't grow soon, he may have to follow you into priesthood."

Whether that was true or not, it was not Malachi’s place to decide. He could not claim happiness either, not if he was being honest, but happiness? Love? Those things paled in comparison to what the church offered him: not only the opportunity to guide others towards the light, but salvation.

No, he would never fall in love. No one was worth losing that over.

The universe would, naturally, laugh in his face a few nights later.

But for now?

For now, he was resolute.

Malachi could not help but think of his niece when Mable touched his arm; she reminded him of her somewhat.

“A troublemaker?” repeated Malachi, with no small amount of amusement. He lifted his chin and faced forward as they walked, and hummed faux agreement.

There was nothing wrong with being short, of course. He certainly wished he was shorter, but he understood that other men might have the opposite issue with similar insecurities…

“Have you tried watering him?”

He rose a brow, offering her an inquisitive glance. “Perhaps more sunlight would do the trick. He is still young, I do believe there’s hope. And if not, these robes do come in much smaller sizes.”

Mable had been hoping Father Brennan would play along with her teases, but had not been expecting what he said and couldn't help a shout of laughter as she caught on.  The sound of it echoed down the street, and the girl covered her mouth quickly in surprise but continued to giggle.

How long had it been since someone had humored her?  Too long, that much was obvious.  Usually, it would be her brother in Father Brennan's place, but he had more to worry about since setting off for New York.

...Had it really been that long since she laughed with her brother?  Surely not, but then - Mable couldn't remember a time recently when the two of them had time to sit and play like they would on their farm back home.  Yet another thought to bring down Mable's spirits, and one she should send away with the shake of her head.

"Speaking of water," she said innocently, turning her head just slightly towards the river they walked beside, "have you ever gone swimming in a river, Father Brennan?"

Oh! That made her laugh. The sudden sound of it surprised him as much as it seemed to surprise her.

For the second time since meeting her, Malachi was made aware of just how infectious her energy was. What seriousness he had managed to pull over his face was broken by a half-smile, and his hands loosened from their habitual hold behind his back to rest more casually at his sides.

His attention was drawn beyond the path and to the water flowing steadily below.

“Subtle,” he commented.

Was it really a good idea to swim in the river at this hour? That was not even a question that really needed to be asked, but here he was, considering it seriously. It did not look as rough as it could have been, he supposed.

“You’ll get your clothes all wet,” Malachi warned, “but if you really want to, we can walk down there. If you promise to hold onto me.”

He did not need her going too far and getting swept down the river.

Mable's smile turned from guileless to sheepish at Father Brennan's comment, and then thrilled as he continued, once again humoring her.

Father Brennan was very quickly becoming one of Mable's favorite people, possibly ever.  Right below her brother, of course.

"I really want to, I really really want to!" she insisted happily, jumping slightly from foot to foot.  "My clothes will dry overnight, it's really no worry at all, you know!  I'll hang them up over the chairs in the room and they'll be good as new come morning, possibly even cleaner than now!"

Leaving the hotel room with the man had been the best decision she'd ever made, Mable was sure.  Adults were usually so boring and uptight and mean, but Father Brennan was so nice, and Mable could hardly contain her excitement.

"Will you really let me?  I promise I'll hold on, and I won't let go - even though I am a very good swimmer, I'll be very careful Father Brennan, can we really?"

Was it even possible to deny her when she was smiling and asking so happily?

No. He suspected not. That made Mable a very dangerous little girl, and he suddenly understood how her desire to travel could take someone all the way across the sea. Her poor brother probably did all sorts of reckless things for her, all for the sake of that happy smile.

Malachi did take another few moments to consider, weighing the risks against the (admittedly worse) possibility of disappointing Mable, and finally gave a nod.

“Yes, we can, really,” he answered with a smile. “Just hold on and be careful.”

They had only just passed by the bridge, so he motioned for them to turn around and started back towards it. Not to dive off of it – God no – but it looked to be an easier path down to the water, beside the bridge. Malachi quickened his pace to walk ahead of her once the street gave way to dirt and sand, and when he had gotten close enough to the water that the ground beneath was damp and compact, he held out his arm to Mable.

“There might be slippery rocks under the water,” he warned for good measure.

Mable might have known the affect her smiling face and joyful pleas had on the people around her, or she might not have.  Either way, she laughed, so obviously delighted at getting her way and followed Father Brennan back to the bridge and beside it.

She took the arm offered to her and used it first to balance as she took of her boots and set them aside, already knowing they'd take longer than a night to dry thoroughly.  The girl's socks, mismatched and discolored, followed before she stepped into the water.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, but not unhappily.  "The water is cold!"

That fact did not stop Mable from taking another careful step deeper into the water, letting it run over her feet and ankles in an almost soothing fashion.  The rocks were indeed slippery, but Mable tested each step before committing and used her handhold on Father Brennan when she thought she'd fall, but even that was barely needed.

"There was a small creek on the farm back home," she said meanwhile.  "It was not very deep, but me and my brother would go in all the time.  To bathe and wash out clothes or refresh ourselves if we'd been out long.  He always said there were fish too, but I never saw one."

It had been so long since she'd been able to dip her feet into water like this.  They never had time on their way to New York, and then they'd been on a boat for who knows how long, and then the road again... Oh, she had missed this very much.

Upon noticing the girl start to remove her shoes, he figured he ought to do the same unless he wanted to track water and mud through the presbytery. Keeping his arm held up steady for Mable, he took off his shoes and socks and tossed them over to where she’d set hers.

A similar sound escaped him in the form of a quiet gasp when he touched the water. God, she was right, it was cold. But if that fact alone was not enough to deter her, then he would not let it shake him either. He took another step beside her, and felt the hem of his trousers cling to his legs as they were soaked with water.

“That must have been nice,” said Malachi, keeping his eyes on Mable for any signs of imbalance.

“I am sure you’ll see plenty of fish here. Perhaps not while it’s this dark out, of course…”

Might feel them, though. He was pretty sure there were fish that nibbled on people when given the chance.

He took another step farther, and the bottom of his cassock was wet too. At least there was a refreshing quality to it, in the summer night’s humid air.

“What kinds of things did you have on the farm?”

What did she have on the farm?  Mable tilted her head as she thought about it, humming quietly.

"Not much," she admitted.  Even if they did, it would have been in the house where she was loathe to go.

"This might shock you, but my brother and I didn't have a lot of money growing up.  A lot of land and trees and grass, things like that we made do with.  Oh, we had some cows for a while!  And they had a baby, but it was still born.  We had to sell the cows a bit after that..."

She and her brother had enough money to buy food for winter after that at least.  Mable still frowned at the memory and kicked up with her foot, splashing water up and onto her dress.

"We had a small house too, but it wasn't very nice, and my brother and I didn't like to be inside much."  Mable shrugged, purposefully not elaborating on why.  Instead, she squeezed Father Brennan's hand and looked up at him.

"Tell me about London, and your family!  Why don't you and your brother get along?"

Malachi watched the girl’s face as she spoke – at least, what he could see of it in the moonlight that reached them.

Whereas she had seemed all too happy to tell him all about the land itself, with its open skies and mountain ranges and trees, Mable again appeared to cut herself short before she could say much about the details. It did not sound as if they’d had many animals like a regular farm might have, and he supposed that was why she had said that it was not like a normal farm.

Some of the water from her kick made its way onto his sleeve. While he listened, his free hand dipped down to gently splash a bit of water in her direction.

There must have been something, or perhaps someone, that made their house feel less welcoming than the world outside. He could understand that.

“Oh,” that was a difficult question. “We’re very different, is all. He had a daughter quite young, as well, so a lot of the responsibility of taking care of her went to me.”

From the way he spoke about it, it did not sound as if he minded it, per se. Merely that it was a point of contention between them.

“After my father adopted me, he married a woman from London and we moved into the house that I grew up in. It’s a nice place, I suppose,” though not one that he had enjoyed living in. “I was not allowed outside much.”

Or at all. He would have killed to be able to leave and go outside the way that Mable described she and her brother doing – but he was outside now, at least.