Page 23 of Dancing On Air

Chapter4

“Thank you for the apples,” said Tom, the butcher, unloading them from the back of Eleanor’s wagon. “I see you have one more bushel. Do you have another stop to make yet?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” said Eleanor, closing up the back of the wagon, not telling him any more information as to her plans.

“Well, come inside, please. I have some meat scraps I’d like to send to the abbey. Mayhap you could use them to make something for the orphans.”

“Thank you, that is very kind of you,” said Eleanor, following him into his shop. “Tom, where is Finnian? I had hoped to pay him a visit while I’m here.”

“I wish I knew,” said Tom, putting down the bushel of apples and walking behind the counter to pack up some meat scraps for her. “He keeps disappearing. I’m afraid he might be out stealing again, though he denies it.”

“Where is your wife?” Eleanor looked around the shop. It was very quiet. Usually, Tom’s wife Alice always worked with him.

“She’s at the church. Praying for Finnian. She does that a lot lately.” Tom shook his head, seeming as if something was really bothering him.

“What’s the matter, Tom? You seem troubled.”

“I am,” he admitted, using brown paper to wrap up the meat. “Finnian’s actions have caused trouble between me and my wife.”

“How so?” she asked curiously.

“I’m afraid that in anger, I accused Alice of being the problem. I told her she should be watching over the boy better.”

“I’m sure it’s not her fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault.”

“I realize that, but the damage is done. Plus, I’ve had other vendors coming to me telling me Finnian has stolen from them.”

“Is it true?”

“I’m afraid so. I recently found a pair of shoes in his room that we didn’t buy him. And often I find bottles that smell like whisky.”

“What do you tell the other vendors?”

“I can’t admit the boy is a thief. It would ruin my business. I told Alice we need to send Finnian out on his own, but she won’t hear of it.”

“I’m sorry he is being such a problem. I thought once he had a family, he’d stop his stealing. This is my fault.”

“Nay, Lady Eleanor. Don’t say that.” He handed her the package of meat. “My wife and I haven’t been blessed with children, and when Finnian came to live with us, we thought our prayers had been answered. But now, instead, it seems as if it is naught but some kind of curse.”

“I’ll talk to the boy. Mayhap I can help him see that he is hurting you and Alice.”

Just then, the door to the butcher’s shop opened and in walked Finnian.

“Lady Eleanor.” The boy stopped in his tracks.

“Hello, Finnian,” she said with a smile. “My, you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.”

“Where were you, boy?” growled Tom. “There is work to be done.”

“You don’t own me. Quit telling me what to do.” Finnian hurried toward the back of the shop, but stopped when something fell to the floor from under his tunic.

“What’s that?” asked Tom.

“It’s mine,” said Finnian, reaching for the pouch, but his father got to it first. He opened it and pulled out one shilling. “You were out thieving again, admit it.”

“What do you even care?”

“Whose pouch is this?”