05-09-2022, 04:41 AM
Well. That settled that.
A look of mild surprise crossed Malachi’s pale face at the stranger’s sarcastic tone. It was the only real reaction he gave, and even that was set aside when he was offered an apology.
“No need,” he softly dismissed, and kept quiet after that to let the boy speak.
No money, no luggage, no shelter. Most people tended to fight harder to get those things when presented with a chance, but not this one. Another good thing: perhaps that meant that he still had a sense of self-respect that was so often worn down in others like him.
That, or he just really wanted to protect that girl, at the cost of having to defend her on the street.
The casual manner in which the young man spoke of their troubles, with his shrugs and his weak explanations, only served to worry Malachi more. Drawing in a deep breath, he considered the unknown state of them and gave a quiet hum.
St. Hilda’s wasn’t that far, but it was far from a long-term solution. There was Father Richards and Mrs. Higgins to think about too.
“I will not push you,” said Malachi, lifting both hands in mock surrender. “But it’s only a matter of time before one of you gets sick or hurt out here.”
More of the obvious, and it wasn’t any of his business what they did… but it was his duty to help those in need. If that meant personal sacrifice, well, he was just one step closer to sainthood.
“What if I paid for it?”
Bad idea. Providing food and shelter at the church was one thing, but paying for two strangers to stay somewhere else? What if they up and decided to bleed him for all he was worth? What if the wrong kind of person caught wind of a priest putting up two youths young enough to be his children?
(Or was it worse if they didn’t know what he was up to, so late at night?)
“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he trudged on anyway. “It’s your choice if you don’t, but I would like to help you. I can at least do that – I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t.”
A look of mild surprise crossed Malachi’s pale face at the stranger’s sarcastic tone. It was the only real reaction he gave, and even that was set aside when he was offered an apology.
“No need,” he softly dismissed, and kept quiet after that to let the boy speak.
No money, no luggage, no shelter. Most people tended to fight harder to get those things when presented with a chance, but not this one. Another good thing: perhaps that meant that he still had a sense of self-respect that was so often worn down in others like him.
That, or he just really wanted to protect that girl, at the cost of having to defend her on the street.
The casual manner in which the young man spoke of their troubles, with his shrugs and his weak explanations, only served to worry Malachi more. Drawing in a deep breath, he considered the unknown state of them and gave a quiet hum.
St. Hilda’s wasn’t that far, but it was far from a long-term solution. There was Father Richards and Mrs. Higgins to think about too.
“I will not push you,” said Malachi, lifting both hands in mock surrender. “But it’s only a matter of time before one of you gets sick or hurt out here.”
More of the obvious, and it wasn’t any of his business what they did… but it was his duty to help those in need. If that meant personal sacrifice, well, he was just one step closer to sainthood.
“What if I paid for it?”
Bad idea. Providing food and shelter at the church was one thing, but paying for two strangers to stay somewhere else? What if they up and decided to bleed him for all he was worth? What if the wrong kind of person caught wind of a priest putting up two youths young enough to be his children?
(Or was it worse if they didn’t know what he was up to, so late at night?)
“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he trudged on anyway. “It’s your choice if you don’t, but I would like to help you. I can at least do that – I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t.”
