A Time for Dew
Roary watched the door close behind the boy. He let out an expectant sigh and ran his fingers through his shock of mangy hair. What a charming and amazing fellow. Who would have ever imagined she would have a son like that? He was so quick of wit, ready to have a semantic battle and so very interested in all things ancient and celtic. What fun he was to ramble about the shop with, though it was a bit odd that he had absolutely no interest in the Faery section of the store. He seemed far too interested in the makings of man for that type of goings on. He walked toward the back of the shop, thinking about closing up, when he heard a rattle that was distinctly out of place. Backtracking through the aisles he was very, very surprised to find a rather long lanky looking dark-haired boy, with a curly head of hair curled up on the floor obliviously reading in the far corner of the ancient legends section. He cleared his throat softly to gain the boy's attention. When this did not work, he tried a rather more loud cough. Still, the boy did not glance up. Finally, he inquired, "Good readin', is it?"
That startled the boy so much that he scrambled about, dropping the book in an effort to stand up. He had been right about long that was for sure. The boy was tall and definitely on the lean side, with liquid brown eyes. This one was definitely his mother's son. Absolutely had to be with those eyes looking right through him. "Ye've dropped the book," he said.
Sean leaned down and gathered it up, wiping down the spine with the side of his sleeve. He smiled up at him, clearly chagrined. "I'm very sorry. How much is it? I mean in dollars? I think I would like to get it, if I have the funds with me," he added.
Roary smiled crookedly. This one was a charmer. "Well now, I'll have to have a look at it, won't I," he said. He took the book from him and rolled it over in his hands, the worn leather binding smooth to the touch. The boy liked the old books and had an eye for quality, that was clear. "This one might be a bit out of your range, lad. It's a vera' old volume and there are not a lot like it to be found. Was there a particular story you were interested in?" asked Roary.
Sean looked completely broken-hearted about the book. Roary felt rather like a cad for not pricing it down, but it was an expensive item and he did have to make a living after all. The boy looked at him for a long while. He was appraising him. "I heard you talking with my brother earlier. He seemed to think you were okay," he paused. The look on his face seemed to say that he was trying to decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Roary wondered, was it good for young Ian to like him? Did he want the lad to? Of course he did. You always wanted people to like you. Why did it seem more important then that these boys like him? Was it his strange evening out by the sea? Or was it something entirely different, something to do with their mother? On second thought, he really did not want to know. He would just settle for thinking it was human. When he glanced back up, the boy was staring at him like he had grown horns.
"I said, do you have a name, sir?" repeated Sean. "Mine is Sean Carroll."
"Oh, sorry, drifted for a bit, vera' glad to meet you. Ye may call me Roary, Roary James."
"I am not sure my Ma would approve of my calling you by your first name, but as long as it's just you and me," he said, "I think I will."
He back-stepped into the corner as far as he could go, then waved to Roary to follow. "I have something I am going to show you, but it has to be just between us."
Intrigued, Roary followed the boy further into the stack. Sean reached into his pocket and pulled out a broach. Holding his palm open he showed it to him. "I found this all covered in sand and salt by the sea just after I got here today. I'm lucky I held onto it, what with it being almost all the way out on the edge of the rock and all. And you would not believe what I saw, well never mind that, the point is I really need that book," he managed to get out in one breath.
Roary was dazed. He could not believe what he was seeing. There it was, the prize he had been searching for, sitting right in the palm of this strange boy's hand. Sitting there all clean and glistening and beautiful, even more beautiful than he had imagined. Why had it never occurred to him to search the shore? He was so caught up in this thought that it took a long while for it to come to him. When it did, he could hear her voice so loud in his head, he expected Sean to hear it too.
"God bless, I've already failed," he wandered away from Sean finding his way to the back office and sinking into his one comfortable chair. He did not realize he had spoken aloud, or that the boy had followed him until he heard a scraping sound and the thunk of another chair being settled next to him.
"Failed at what?" said Sean.
"Well, perhaps not failed," Roary smiled weakly at the boy. "No one has disappeared or anything so that is a good sign." Thinking it would be a good idea to change the subject, he asked, "Why this book?"
Sean pulled the book from his hand, stuffing the pin back into his pocket. He opened it as if he knew the exact page to go to without looking and pointed to a sketch on the page. 'There," he said, "That's why."
On the page, was a tidy sketch of the broach that now sat tucked in the boy's pocket. Roary had forgotten it was in this particular tome. It was a fine drawing, all in pen and ink, a bit weathered from age but clearly of the very same piece of jewelry. He flipped to the front of the book. It was dated some 120 years prior, one of the reasons the book was so expensive. He read the inscription below the sketch, certain the boy had not been able to make that out.
"I think it says the pin comes from the time of King Lir, some 180 years before that book was done up," said Sean.
"How the blazes did ye know that?" asked Roary.
"I like languages, and my Ma was always going on about learning Gaelic, so I took a couple of night classes with her. I don't think she remembers much but a bit stuck with me, I guess," he said with a shrug. "I'm studying Latin now," he added with a puff of his chest.
"Well, it happens that ye are right, which makes that wee bit of metal ye have in your pocket about 300 years or more old," he said. "I would tell ye I would trade ye the book for the broach, but we both know that would not be a fair trade," said Roary. He smiled and flipped the page, "Och, look here now, it's the old tale of the Children of Lir. I guess that makes sense with the design and all."
"What's that?" asked Sean.
"Well," said Roary, "let me give ye a brief overview of how it goes."
Lin found them with their heads together, talking softly and obviously enjoying themselves, not too much after the tale had begun to get interesting. She heard them before she found them, flipping back the curtain to catch them so engrossed they did not even notice her grim entrance.
She had finally managed to get Ian to tell her where he thought he might have abandoned his brother. It had been so lovely when he had arrived, late though he was, bearing the beautiful amber silk like a prize. He looked so proud. She just could not stay mad at him. So they had ordered dinner, and ordered for Sean too, expecting he would barrel in at any moment. But he had not come. He simply had not shown up at all. Finally, her patience completely exhausted, hope turned into panic as she began to flash back to his incredible good fortune by the sea and all of the other amazing moments of good fortune he had been graced with over his young life (the boy had more lives than a cat); she simply threw her purse to her Mom, grabbed Ian by the collar and ran for the door. He had led her directly here, mumbling all the way.
Here of all places, to Roary James' blasted shop. She should have known they would both end up here somehow. But tucked up in the office with him? That was just too much. "What in blazes are you doing in here, young man?" she demanded in her absolute most severe tone.
Sean's head snapped up so fast Roary thought it might snip off if it had not been so well attached. "I, um, well, I was just talking to Ro, I mean, Mr. James, Ma," he said rather guiltily.
"And it did not occur to you that you were missing your dinner?" she asked looking pointedly at him.
Then she swung her gaze to Roary. "I don't suppose a grown man might have wondered what a 14-year-old boy was doing out and about on his own? You did not think to remind him that he should probably be getting back to his family, did you?" she said with every bit of sarcasm she could lace into her voice. Which was actually quite a bit, as Roary winced listening to her.
"Get up," she said to Sean. "Your Nana is tired. On top of a full day of travel she has had to deal with all of your shenanigans today." Lin gave Roary one last disgusted look, flipped the amber silk over her shoulder and slammed out of the shop.
"I'm thinking ye had best follow," Roary said. "Take the book for now, but mind that ye take good care of it unless ye have 300 of your dollars to be paying me for it. I'll be expectin' it back when ye are done wit' the story." He shoved the book into Sean's hands and pushed him toward the door.
"Thank you, I will take good care of it. And thanks, well, for everything," said Sean on his way out the door. He ran to catch up with his family, tucking the book under his coat. He had a strange feeling his Ma would not be happy he had it with him.
Roary watched from the window as they walked away. He had completely failed if his job had been to keep the boy from finding that broach. Yet nothing bad had appeared to happen to him yet. So, perhaps he had time to talk with Lin. Perhaps there was a way yet to get her to understand that she really could not be taking the boys down to the sea. And should not be taking them anywhere near those swans. He rubbed his hand where he had injured it.
Then it hit him like a cold wave. A very large wave of cold dread. What the hell had he done? How stupid could he have been?
This time when he walked back to the shop, he did not get a cup of tea. He poured himself a nice long shot of Tullamore Dew, and he did not take a long time to put it down his throat.
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