05-12-2022, 05:12 PM
Very far from home… yes, he supposed they were.
He would have been lying to himself if he thought to consider the place he came from as ‘home.’ It would have been just as much of a lie to drape that label over the city of London, or even over the estate his father left behind.
Malachi did not miss the village he was born in, but he could forgive the girl’s assumptions. It existed fondly in his memory, but everything was blurred, like a fog had been cast over it. Life for him would have been different there – he supposed it might have been easier, but now? Now he existed only in-between; he was as foreign to them as he was to the English men he grew up with.
“Young,” was his vague answer. Old enough to remember, young enough not to understand.
“There is no reason for me to go back. I have a good life here, and I’m afraid I’m too old to start over.”
A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. The River Esk flowed steadily as ever, following the gentle curves of the street he led them down. Cool light glinted off the water and sparkled across its dark surface.
“I’m sure that you and your brother will find the same. A good life, that is,” Malachi brought his hands behind his back. “You’re both young, and the world is wide. If you’re not able to find it here in Whitby, you will find it somewhere.”
He hoped for it to be true.
“Your brother said that you’re here because you wanted to travel… but I sense that there’s more to it than that?”
When Malachi glanced down at her, his smile had faded, but his expression was open, nonjudgmental. He did not wish to interrogate the poor girl, but he had to know if they were running away from something that could follow them here.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, Mable, but – will you tell me if you’re safe?”
He would have been lying to himself if he thought to consider the place he came from as ‘home.’ It would have been just as much of a lie to drape that label over the city of London, or even over the estate his father left behind.
Malachi did not miss the village he was born in, but he could forgive the girl’s assumptions. It existed fondly in his memory, but everything was blurred, like a fog had been cast over it. Life for him would have been different there – he supposed it might have been easier, but now? Now he existed only in-between; he was as foreign to them as he was to the English men he grew up with.
“Young,” was his vague answer. Old enough to remember, young enough not to understand.
“There is no reason for me to go back. I have a good life here, and I’m afraid I’m too old to start over.”
A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. The River Esk flowed steadily as ever, following the gentle curves of the street he led them down. Cool light glinted off the water and sparkled across its dark surface.
“I’m sure that you and your brother will find the same. A good life, that is,” Malachi brought his hands behind his back. “You’re both young, and the world is wide. If you’re not able to find it here in Whitby, you will find it somewhere.”
He hoped for it to be true.
“Your brother said that you’re here because you wanted to travel… but I sense that there’s more to it than that?”
When Malachi glanced down at her, his smile had faded, but his expression was open, nonjudgmental. He did not wish to interrogate the poor girl, but he had to know if they were running away from something that could follow them here.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, Mable, but – will you tell me if you’re safe?”
