Two hours. Malachi had scraped together two hours of sleep after his spontaneous swim in the river the night before, which was roughly two hours more than he had expected to get. The minutes spread themselves thinly throughout the rest of the late-night-early-morning hours after he had walked Mable back to the hotel, but he was grateful for each one.

It was only his fourth time or so conducting morning mass for St. Hilda’s congregation. He had been there a few days longer, but he had left a few of them for Father Richards – he intended to share their duties as equals, after all, despite whatever measure of authority he had been granted over the younger priest in accepting this position. All too easily could it have been Malachi with his privileges stripped away.

Besides, he had not fully… found his voice yet. Not for this church. It always took him several days to get a proper feel for what they truly needed to hear, and what he could do to best serve them.

This morning, however, the priest carried himself with confidence before his new parish. He was quick, but did not rush through the rites; authoritative, but not unkind. There was a nervousness that came with every new placement, but the Eucharist? From the enthusiastic way that he conducted it, it would not have been a stretch to assume that he could have recited every word of it backwards. That he would have, if given the chance.

By the time it was over, and his final blessing had seen most of the attendees out, Malachi stood at the foot of the few steps up to the altar. He maintained a polite smile as a few parishioners insisted on lingering near, expressing- greetings? Praise? Complaints about Father Kemble? He couldn’t even tell, it was all so mixed together.

Both Reynolds siblings got similarly few hours of sleep.  Edmund had stayed out for quite a bit longer after Mable returned to the hotel, apparently lost in the winding cobblestone streets of Whitby since before sundown.  Mable, for her part, stayed awake until her brother came through the door, and was then scolded for getting her clothes so thoroughly soaked.

She left out the part about being joined in the river by Father Brennan, and was only scolded more for leaving by herself after dark.

Regardless, Edmund was easily convinced to attend the church service the next morning, but the two set off later than expected, waiting until the very last minute for Mable's clothes to dry.  They entered through the doors of St. Hilda's church as quietly as the hinges allowed and found seats quickly in the back rows, settling down in respectful silence for the rest of the service.

Edmund hadn't expected for Mable to take such an interest in the words Father Brennan preached, and he didn't know how to feel about it.  She even brought the Bible from their hotel room along and flipped through it when her attention wandered from the tall man at the altar.  Edmund did not bother.  He could only just barely make sense if sermon; he would not have half as much luck reading.

Mable was eager to stand and greet Father Brennan the moment the service was over, but Edmund urged her to stay seat until the church emptied a bit.  He didn't want to make a scene, or distract the Father, or push through the congregation to the front when they'd not even participated in mass.  Eventually, Edmund stood and took Mable's hand as she lead him to the front, but seemed to get nervous once close to the Father.

Knowing his sister well, Edmund took the first step towards the man and smiled in an awkward greeting.

"Father Brennan.  I hope we didn't interrupt with our entering."  He was about to mention the state of Mable's clothes he'd returned to, but stopped.  Was it appropriate to discuss such things with near strangers?  Edmund wasn't sure, but he didn't think so.

"This is my sister, Mable.  I - well, you saw her before, but she was quite tired.  Mable, would you like to say hello?"

Instead of replying, the girl shuffled her feet from behind Edmund.  "Hello, Father," she said, quiet but kind.  "The service was very nice."

The young couple standing to his left had plastered on their smiles mid-service, and they had not let them drop for more than a few seconds since. They were to be married soon, as they had told him immediately after the concluding rite, and naturally (as they’d put it) wished for him to be the one to conduct their ceremony. Father Richards was great, they’d said, but Father Brennan just felt right.

The way they’d looked at him when they said that was rather telling. He gave an awkward laugh and thanked them for their trust before pretending like he’d heard someone else call for him.

(Why was it always so hard to just stay on the holiest path? A curse upon that awful, wonderful tradition that was granting communion to a parish on their knees. It should have been an excommunicable offense, for how many sinful thoughts it encouraged.)

Thankfully for the struggling addict priest, a voice did address him soon after and he did not have to pretend for long.

Praise the Lord.

He stopped himself from making the sign of the cross as he turned to address the siblings, his smile having eased into something more genuine.

“Edmund. Pleased to see you both here,” Malachi greeted first, hands folded neatly behind his back.

“Don’t worry, you did not interrupt,” he assured, despite the fact that their entrance kind of… had. It had not been an unpleasant distraction though. He was pleased to see them. He focused on Mable for a moment when she spoke up, though her quiet demeanor certainly contrasted with her excitement the night before.

“Hello Mable,” he returned, “thank you. How are the two of you doing?”

Mable looked at her brother rather than responding to the Father, and Edmund took that as his cue to take over for just a little longer.

"We're alright," he gave, glancing up at the man and then away just as soon.  Edmund's eyes lingered over the man's shoulders or at his chest rather than his face.  "A long night and a busy morning, but we had breakfast."  There was a small smile at that, just a pleased quirk at the corner of the boy's mouth.

"Oh, that reminds me - Mable?"  Edmund turned to his sister, squeezing her hand to get her attention.  She blinked at him once and then again in realization.  Excitedly, she dug in the pocket of the thin jacket she was wearing and produced a small, dirty coin.  Mable held it out to the Father.

"It's a shilling!  My brother got it yesterday while he was out and wants you to have it!"  The girls voice was a touch closer to what it it had the night before.

"To thank you for the room," Edmund elaborated.  "I know it's not much, but we'd both like you to have it."

There was something about Edmund that reminded Malachi of himself. When he was younger – much younger – his eyes had strayed similarly from the gazes of those he met. Nowadays there was no room for such discomfort in his life. If he did not hold himself with the absolution of God-given authority, he knew that no one else would grant him that either.

Some people were born that way, but most weren’t. It was a learned discomfort.

His smile almost faltered as Edmund’s appeared. Just like Mable had sounded so pleased when she had mentioned eating food the night before, her brother spoke as if meals were a rare commodity, to be celebrated each time they had them.

If he were a more openly expressive man, the priest’s surprise might have shown on his face when a shilling was held out before him. As it was, there was a subtle lift of his brows.

They wanted him to have that? Even though they probably didn’t have any money of their own? And for the love of God, why did it feel like his eyes were watering?

Nothing fell, but a redness pricked at them as he stared at the offered coin. He wanted to tell them that it wasn’t necessary, they could put it to better use than he could, he didn’t want (nor did he need) it. But Mable sounded so proud of it, and Edmund probably needed to give it for pride’s sake.

Malachi took it, turning it over in his fingers. His voice was thick when he said, “thank you.”

He couldn’t help it. They were so kind, and they even came to church to see him despite not even being Catholic. After taking a breath, his smile was renewed, and he slipped the coin into his pocket.

“What are you two doing now? Have you had a chance to walk through town in the daylight yet?”

While his sister watched the Father's face intently as the coin was offered and accepted, mindful of the sudden redness in his eyes, Edmund only noticed when the man spoke.  His eyes widened as he took in the man's face, and he turned for just a second to look at his sister, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

Mable gave him a look, unreadable to anyone except her brother, and they both turned back to Father Brennan, an understanding reached.

"We've walked a bit, but I'm not sure of we really know our way around yet," Edmund responded, and Mable nodded in agreement.  "It's a very pretty town, though."

"Very grey," Mable offered, though the comment was not a criticism.  "I like the beach and the port the best, so far.  What about you, Father?  Or is the church your favorite?"

The girl stepped closer, lowering her voice.  "It's okay if it isn't, we won't tell anybody!"  Edmund pulled his sister back beside him, and offered the Father an apologetic look.

Malachi took the girl’s quiet promise in stride, responding with an amused huff of breath and a brighter smile.

The church kind of had to be his favorite. It had to be his priority wherever he went, not just in Whitby. Saint Hilda’s was a very beautiful, sturdy church, and he did feel more at home within its nave than he felt anywhere else in town.

If he was not obligated to hold it with such high regards above everything else, though? He supposed there were other parts of town that he enjoyed just as much. Many he was yet to discover, but his faith was full that they would be there. So he hummed his consideration, and in the meantime offered a polite nod of farewell to one of the older parishioners that glanced his way.

“The church is one of my favorites,” he ceded, “as are the more winding streets.”

Whether the streets themselves technically counted as places or just passageways between them, Malachi appreciated their endurance. Built over hills and flats, split between forks and narrow alleys, leading away yet leading towards something else.

More of the remaining congregation filtered out, leaving but a few stragglers catching up with one another in the pews. Malachi watched them before turning his focus back to the siblings.

“If you aren’t busy with anything else, perhaps the three of us could find our way around? I could do with some fresh air.”

Edmund could see why the Father might take comfort in the winding streets and alleyways of Whitby, even if he could not relate.  The buildings could be suffocating, sometimes, in their proximity to each other.  He missed the open air and fields of the farm so badly, but this was home for the time being.  He would have to get used to it, and learn to love it like the Father did.

"A walk would be nice, if you're not busy," the boy said, not needing to look at his sister to feel her rock on her feet with excitement.  "I think we could use from fresh air, too."

Mable nodded in agreement, thick loose curls bouncing with the movement.  "Yes, yes, I need fresh air so desperately you know.  I'm feeling sickly being inside so long - no offence, Father, the church is very nice.  Very elegant!  Hey, could you hold the bible for we while we walk?"  the last question was directed at Edmund, who took the book without a second thought.  Mable turned right back to Father Brennan, twice as expressive now that she had a free hand.

"Do you think we could walk down to the beach?  The weather seemed nice and sunny, I think it's wonderful for a beach day as long as you don't mind getting sand in your clothes.  But my brother's going to stay by the rocks, probably, so you could too if you don't want that.  If you think the beach is a nice choice, I mean.  Please?"

The suggestion was, in part, a selfish one. Malachi did want to aid the children in learning their way around town and settling into their current home, and if that meant being there with them each step of the way, he was more than willing to do it.

He also just really wanted to get out of the church and not listen to confessions or tidy up or do anything else for a while, and exploring town with Edmund and Mable gave him the perfect excuse to do just that.

“No offense taken,” he answered in turn, quick as ever. Being inside for so long made him feel sickly too.

Not that he would ever tell anyone that.

It was nice and sunny, Mable said… sunny. Which meant torture for a figure clad in black. Malachi nodded all the same, already stepping away to grab his hat from where he’d left it in the sacristy. He held up a finger to signal them to wait, and within a few moments reappeared, donning his saturno.

“The beach sounds perfect,” Malachi smiled, and waved for the siblings to lead the way out of the church.

Edmund did not think it was possible, but Mable somehow got even more excited when the Father retrieved a strangely round hat with a wide brim.  She tugged on his hand where they were connected and giggled, throwing hair over her shoulder and twisting at the hip.  Edmund couldn't help a small smile at her display.

She confidently lead the way towards the church doors, and Edmund only let her go to hold the door open for her and Father Brennan.  In that short time, Mable attached herself to the taller mans side and was already babbling about - something.  Fifteen years and Edmund could still just barely keep up with her.

"What should we do first, do you think?  I guess swimming would not be possible, not this time, but perhaps we can find some shells!  I don't think my brother is in the best attire for digging, or you for that matter.  Do you ever wear - not those, Father?  Or do you sleep in that long black coat?"

The thought must have amused Mable.  She giggled to herself, one hand covering her mouth and the other finding Edmund's again.

"Don't be rude, Mable," the boy chided lightly, only to be ignored.  His sister was too interested in Father Brennan, staring up at him and grinning, already comfortable in his presence.

Edmund tried to relate.  This was only his second time seeing the man, but his first properly - the dark did not do him justice.  Thankfully, he seemed more tangible in the daylight.  Less like a monstrous shadow out to get them, less like their dad, and more like... just a tall, friendly man.  He seemed strange, but not cruel.  Nice to walk with so far, at least.