April 18, 2013

Pastor Jeremiah woke about dawn, as he usually did, winter, summer. The sounds of the capital waking confused him for a moment, then memory supplied a reason. Mother's birthday and the lead up to the annual Chapter House. He turned onto his side and looked at the next bed, Onan took up only half the space, young boy curled into a bundle, hugging a pillow because they couldn't bring his pet long-dog, and, the pillow damp from drool, blankets tugged free of the bed and cocooning him. He smiled at his son, tracing Vinca's mark on him in the shape of his eyes, in the smile, half mischief, half sweet, that echoed hers, in his burrowing into and stealing all the covers he could.

He heard a step, soft footed, almost a whisper and propped himself up on his elbow as Vinca came in, sockfooted, a sleeping Letty bundled in blankets in her arms. “'Give you good morning, Goodwife.”

“'Give you good morning, Husband-mine.” She bent and put Letetia in the other end of the bed from Onan, tucking her in and standing over her until she settled, then she turned her attention to Onan, checking that he was well, tucking the blankets around one foot that stuck out.

She wore a yayliq, like a proper Pachem wife, and an apron over kirtle and petticoats, but she did not move like a proper Pachem wife, she never had, and he loved her for it, despite it. She straightened up, looking down at their children, a faint smile appearing and vanishing.

“You are going out.” It wasn't a question. They were in Ilk Payiz, and there were delights from other worlds to be bought. “There is coffee.”

“Yes, I am.” Her smile broadened into a grin. “And yes, there is.”

He nodded, sitting up. “Wait for me?” He reached for his socks, laying across the box at the foot of the bed.

She nodded. “I'll be downstairs,” and he knew she would. If she had meant to leave him sleeping, he'd not have heard her bringing Letty in. He dressed, but left off his cassock, choosing covering his head with an informal skullcap instead of his hat. Most likely he and Vinca were the only people awake in the Guesthouse, it was almost like being in the Pastorage, but not quite, he'd not go bareheaded, and he noticed neither had she.

Like Vinca, he didn't put on shoes when he finished dressing, but he carried them down in his hands. He hadn't her knack for walking silent.

She was just pouring a second cup of tea when he came into the dining room. She looked up, smiled, and held out the first cup. He sipped, she'd left it unsweetened, with only the natural flavor of the leaf, just as he liked it. She lifted her own cup and touched her it to her forehead. He matched the gesture, smiling at her. “You will be back by mid-morning?”

Another sip, and she nodded. “I've already packed up everything so we can leave when I get back.”

I wish you wouldn't go, trembled on the tip of his tongue, but he left it there. She returned, and when they were home there was no such worry of her not returning, and for nine-tenths of the time they were in the capital, he had no such worry. “Go quickly then, so you can return as quickly.”

She nodded. “I will.” She looked down into the cup as if for an oracle, then up at him. “I probably won't be able to have coffee next year.”

He perked up, she forswore her coffee only when she was pregnant, or nursing, and Leticia was weaned … ? “If you are – “

“No, but I think I will be, I think the three we have already are handful enough,” she looked into the middle distance, to the front of the building, then looked at him, both hands holding the cup. “But, you're right, and I'm agreeable to try for number four.”

Pastor Jeremiah put down his tea and took her in his arms, rubbing his cheek against her yayliq. “Let few become many, as we are granted them, children are a joy and a gift.”

She buried her face in his chest, her cup bumping into his back as she returned his hug. “Children are sleepless nights and heartache.”

“And yet, we've three, and a hope of a fourth.”

“Ours,” she said, with enough solemnity to suit a Bishop's Harvest-Tide speech, “are exceptionally well behaved children, when they aren't being mischief incarnate.”

They stood there, wrapped in each others' arms, until she stiffened, looking up. “Speaking of our oyun, I think one of them's waking.”

He let her go, and she put the cups in the sink to wash later, while he went back up stairs to see if it was Leticia, or Onan who'd woken.