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Authored by
Bonnie
C - Brampton Library Writing Contest
The old man kept his threadbare jacket on, though it was unzipped and Rennie couldn't see what protection it offered against the cold. Still, he tugged it closed and hunched his shoulders, his gnarled hands fidgeting with his napkin as he stared blankly out a window.
Late afternoon sunlight glinted off the beads of melted snow on his grubby woolen toque and worn leather gloves as they thawed on the table. There were very few customers in the small town tavern this afternoon, but Rennie knew they were watching the newcomer, curious, as she was. Curious and wary.
He hadn't spoken a word since entering the tavern, choosing instead to gaze at the sky as the afternoon descended into darkness. Carl had been reluctant to serve him. Darla, the lone waitress, said nothing more than necessary when she brought him his order and removed his dishes, although she chatted amiably with familiar patrons.
Customers just entering the restaurant carefully avoided him upon first glance. The old man sat there a while, alone, taking temporary refuge from the winter weather. A small puddle formed around his boots, which had seen better days.
Suddenly remembering, he pushed his chair back and prepared to leave, pulling on his gloves and tugging his hat over snow-white hair. Rennie noticed expressions of relief on the faces of those around him, and even Carl seemed glad to see this vagrant leave.
The old man was oblivious to all this. However, as he bent to retie a shoelace a metallic object dropped down and hung from his neck. Rennie felt the atmosphere of fearful excitement increase as it sparkled in the sunlight. Everyone in the tavern wondered if he once belonged to some kind of gang.
The stranger stood abruptly and Carl, seeing he was just about to leave, scurried over with the bill, his courage to approach the man fuelled by profit, curiosity, or both. The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills, handing them to Carl.
The motion caused his unzipped jacket to open fully, revealing the large silver cross that hung around his neck. The tavern was silent as Carl boldly spoke the first full sentence he would utter to the stranger since the man arrived.
"Thank you, Mr. ...?"
A broad smile creased the old man's face. "Father Benedict. I arrived not too long ago, to head the clergy. After the passing of Father Lawrence, your mayor, who was a childhood friend of mine, sent for me to take over."
His gaze swept the room as the stunned townspeople stared. "I am sorry for your loss. Father Lawrence was a good man." With that, the newcomer exited the tavern and shuffled towards the town church as snow fell around him.
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