A/N: Credit for some details of Locke's past goes to Kitt (the Jack of Spades) who also gets a lot of credit for faithfully kicking me in the butt to work on this.
The next day, he turned up at the store around mid-morning, in the lull between packing the kids off to school and the first of the settlers reaching town. Kat was minding all the young ones while I did inventory, and then I heard the jingle of the bell over the door and looked up. He was grinning, and clean-shaven, with a pale outline on his face where the beard had been. "You didn't even give me a chance to get used to it!" I called out by way of greeting. Kat looked up, grinning. I pretended to ignore her.
"You weren't just being polite?" he asked, and I shook my head.
"It was just a change! You need to give people time to adapt," I said. "It kind of looked good on you."
"Will you make up your mind?"
"Well, you're supposed to choose to suit yourself," I said. "I can see why you'd want to quit shaving. I know I don't enjoy it."
"What? You shave?" Kat demanded.
"My legs, yeah."
She made a face. "What if you cut yourself? Wouldn't that hurt?"
"Part of the short skirts, huh?" he asked.
"Well, more or less. By the end of the war most women did it." I went into the storeroom to count the bolts of calico. The dresses I remembered came a few inches past the knee, and on the women in the quartermaster's office they'd been olive-drab. Celes had elaborated on that for me – that the fashion had begun with military uniforms and spread to civilian style. The dress I'd been wearing when I was found had been unduly short in comparison to those I remembered, and brighter than a uniform. Red. Kefka's favorite color. "Don't worry, Kat, you could just go a few inches shorter and still look fine with heavier stockings. Or for that matter, who'd care the other way?"
"Well... maybe I should..." She was still fretting over what to do for her new dress for spring. All through the year in the cave, she'd never bothered, but I suppose she felt the need to make up for lost time now.
"I think they're doing that in Jidoor. Silk stockings and shaving their legs, I mean. But in Nikeah they're still wearing longer dresses."
"Oh, you've been investigating, have you?" I called out from the storeroom. "Feeling a lot of legs in Jidoor?"
"Terra!" Kat gasped, acting scandalized, but then I heard her laughing. I came out of the storeroom, with my ledger in hand. My inventory and bookkeeping were scattershot at best and worse that day than usual, because I wanted to be able to talk rather than follow what little system I had. I kept it all straight in my head, which I considered the main thing.
Locke was sputtering a bit. "We had a conference there, it's just, just noticeable, that's all! Jidooran women are dark, so, y'know, I mean..."
"Mmm-hmmm..." I replied, enjoying his discomfort and ticking off jars of molasses on the list.
"It's true! Like— well, look at you, your legs are longer than the rest of you, so I notice your legs." I was already wearing a shorter hemline, and I'd abandoned petticoats. Someone had to lead the charge for fashion, Kat said, and she was more willing to alter one of my dresses; for herself, she wanted a new one. It was oddly liberating to shed all those layers, and it had given her something to do. "Besides, I figured you'd want to hear."
"About legs?"
"And hats. They're about going out of style. You see these... little ones, like..." He mimed something close to his head. It didn't mean anything to me, since I'd never worn them, but Kat seemed interested. Then she had to scoop up Rosie, who seemed determined to crawl right into the stove.
"What about beards?" I asked, and he gave me a beleaguered look.
"If you're that determined, I can grow a new one any day now," he said.
"I just think it's funny... You always shaved just about daily, even when we were fighting Kefka, then you grow one after a three-week ride." And shave it off because I said so.
"Well... you wake up and there's Edgar, looking all put-together, maybe he had a valet stashed in his pack or something, and you think 'I have to at least try to groom myself.'"
"Well, Celes was about the same, and I never had that problem," I said. At one point I'd taken to wearing a bandanna like his to hide the state of my hair, after a particularly long sojourn on the Veldt. Nothing had ever seemed to completely phase her; even when she was wounded and drenched she managed, somehow, to look perfectly in charge of the situation. And she never seemed to sweat.
He shrugged. "I'm just a dandy at heart, I guess," he said, and gave me that winning smile again. I tried not to smile back at him for too long. I also tried to pretend Kat's eyes weren't burning holes in the back of my head, but my imagination wasn't quite that powerful. So I said, as if I'd just remembered, "Oh! I'm supposed to get mad at you today."
"Can't it wait? I have to write reams of letters," he said. "I'll pencil you in after lunch."
I kept losing count of the bottles of lamp oil. "You haven't written your letters yet? You must have really slept in."
"I had a very long trip, I'll have you know," he retorted, sounding huffy, though when I glanced at him I saw that he was grinning. I really was trying to keep count, so I didn't look up again. I heard the bell jingle, I heard his footsteps on the porch and going down the steps. I heard a happy squeal from Charles as he managed to pull Kat's knitting off the counter. I darted over to make sure he hadn't poked an eye out. He hadn't, so I picked up Kat's knitting, and then him. When I stood, she was standing there waiting.
"Just kiss him already," she said.
I never did get around to losing my temper with Locke, even though he came by that evening for dinner. As the days passed, he came by most evenings for dinner. "I'm going to really offend the Eiserts," he said cheerfully. I doubted it. Everyone in town knew he was really my guest. I think he only had the room at the inn for the sake of my reputation, because he spent most of his time at the house. He conducted his business by letter in the mornings, then dropped by the store to lounge around until I closed up shop, and followed me home.
Everyone seemed to like him well enough. After all, he'd enter willingly, even enthusiastically, into their interminable discussions about weather. I understood why they cared – the climate had changed, and knowing the weather was vital to farming – but my knowledge of the subject was limited to the basics. I'd plant the vegetables when Duane said so, but I didn't care to get into a detailed discussion of killing frosts. It endeared him to them, though, and he didn't seem to mind at all. When I thanked him for it, he pointed out that Kohlingen had been an agricultural area too, and that he was halfway used to it.
The time seemed to race by. Winter warmed into early spring, and the bulbs began to sprout and flower. Martin Collier brought me a few daffodils, and I arranged them in a vase on the counter. Locke asked, conversationally, where they'd come from, and I told him.
"Oh. Well, that was nice of him," he said, with a slightly fixed-looking smile, then fidgeted with the stove (which, finally, I didn't need to light anymore) suddenly remembered he'd left a letter at the inn, and headed back out. Kat mouthed "Jealous" at me, very clearly. I mouthed "You're crazy" back at her. And Locke popped back in the door, saying, "Was in my pocket all along." We both turned to look at him; he'd stopped in the doorway. "Should I be worried?" he asked. Kat giggled, and that set me off.
"Right..." he said, and deposited the letter on the counter gingerly. I covered my mouth with both hands. "Still have to write another," he added, and beat a hasty retreat. Kat had run off to the storeroom, and when she emerged, I threw a ball of yarn at her.
She caught it neatly. "He is!" she insisted. "He's jealous!" She tossed it back at me, and I fumbled it and had to chase it. "The reflexes that saved the world," she sighed, mock-disgusted, so I threw it at her again.
And I continued to ignore her. I was happy with things as they stood. I got to see him every day, and the kids seemed to adore him. We were still busy working out the plans for the celebration at the ever-more-frequent council meetings; sometimes we'd hold impromptu meetings if a few other members happened into the store at the same time. The plans were already in place – a circus was coming, for the town's children, and we'd arranged a dance in the Ellis's barn "so the young people can spend some time together," as Mr. Collier had described it. I wasn't sure if I officially counted as young. Perhaps not. But despite the lack of anything further to really adjust, we continued to reiterate the plans, to discuss the size of the barn, consider, reconsider, and eventually stick to the original plans.
"You don't have to leave right after the celebration, do you, Locke?" I asked about a week before it was to happen. The circus had been spotted down around the South Bend, aiming for a brief stop at Tailin, the even-tinier village at the south end of the country, before heading to the holiday engagement here. The news had sent the kids into a tizzy of excitement about the approaching holiday.
"I don't know yet," he explained, patiently, and I realized I'd asked before. "I won't know till Hamley writes back to tell me when they're going to get there. I hope not, but I might."
I nodded, covered the bread dough and set it aside to rise. "I wish I could tell you for sure," he said. "I'd like to stay here a while longer." I leaned against the sink, looking at him curiously. The tan where his beard had been had evened out. I didn't see any insincerity about him, but I wasn't sure I'd have recognized it if I'd seen it.
"I thought you liked traveling so much," I said.
"Well... not so much that I like traveling, I just get restless if I stay too long in one place. But I haven't here, yet." He shrugged.
"The constant adventure of waiting for what the kids will do next?" I suggested. Cassie had uncovered a mischievous streak; a few days before, I'd discovered her and Charles rolling large candles back and forth across the storeroom floor, while Rosie banged a taper vigorously against a shelf. Before that, she'd decided, for no apparent reason, to wash the day's eggs in whiskey; I'd found the empty bottle and nearly died of fright, which didn't abate until I'd performed a full head count and interrogation.
"Could be that," he said, grinning. "I tell you what happened yesterday?"
"No...."
"Well, I was taking advantage of your bath, you don't know how lucky you are—"
"Oh yes I do! You ever tried bathing five young kids in a number three washtub? Not to mention myself..."
"All at once?" he asked, faking astonishment. I stuck my tongue out at him. "Okay, you're right, you do know. Anyway, I left my boots outside, and Henry put a garter snake in one."
"Is it okay?" I asked. I'd have to have a word with Henry about how to treat the local wildlife.
"Yeah. I screamed to high heaven, they thought it was hilarious, but the snake was just slightly freaked out, I think."
The kids buzzed around in high gear for most of the next week. "I'd forgotten how easily excited kids can get," Locke noted. He was helping me sweep up in the store; it had been rainy the previous day, and the floor was covered in dried mud. He wasn't much help, but I wasn't going to pick on him. He was getting better, at least.
"I hadn't forgotten," I said. They'd been the same way over the solstice. "I just don't quite understand. Are they that bored? I mean, not that you'd be able to tell unless they told you..."
"Well... I dunno. When I was that age, it was just... well, we got gifts at a lot of the holidays, too. My grandparents didn't have much, but they were generous with it, you know? So that was part of it for me, but beyond that, I don't know. Just looking forward to the special occasion? It's hard to explain."
"Well, that's good enough, I guess... it is normal for kids, though?"
"Yeah," he said, and leaned his broom against the counter, squeezed my shoulders. "It'll all come back to you," he said.
"Some of it has, but I'm not sure I'll ever remember any more. It's just little things, images, people whose names I can't recall... I don't remember the governess that raised me, or Celes's mother. She says I'm just as lucky about her mother, but I want to remember."
"I didn't even know she had a mother, so we're even there," he said. I smiled, more because he was trying to cheer me up than anything else. "I don't even remember my mother, barely remember my father..." I turned to look at him, curious, then felt bad because he might not want to talk about it. "My mother died when I was little. Dad died when I was six or seven." He shrugged. "He was actually the one who taught me how to steal."
I'd opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't figure out what words to use. "See, I admitted it," he added, grinning a little. "It was just poaching, or grabbing a few vegetables here and there or swiping some coins. He had me do it because no one would blame a kid. My mother's parents took me in after he died, and they wouldn't let me keep it up. And Grandpa ran a curiosity shop, so I guess I come by all of it honest, huh?"
"I guess so," I said. "Locke, I am so sorry." I meant for all of it – his parents dying, his having to steal when he was young, the way I always used to tease him about being a thief, not knowing it might have been a sore subject – but I left it open for him to choose.
"About what?" he asked. "My parents? Well, it's not your fault. And it's been ages." I might have looked disapproving, because he added, "I just don't remember them, you know? You can't miss someone you never really knew in the first place."
"I can," I said. I missed a lot of things I couldn't even remember. "But I understand."
The circus finally arrived, with a parade of vomamoths, caged tigers and people in sparkly leotards. They set up the tents in the middle of the town square, and I spent most of the afternoon spooked by the relative quiet in the store, because all the kids were out there rather than with me.
About the circus itself, though, I think I was more excited than the kids were. Now that the anticipation was over, the older kids weren't all that interested. But I'd never been to one, or at least I didn't remember if I had. All the kids were fairly impressed with the animals, but Cassie did not like the clowns at all. I had to take her outside, and try in vain to sooth her.
Locke came out to let us know when the clowns were gone. "They were bad!" she informed him, still tearful.
"I know they were! You were very brave," he said, reassuringly, and knelt to hand her a fresh bag of peanuts. "They always scared me too," he added, failing to notice that I was glaring at him. I wanted to convince her things were safe. "You just have to remember, they can't actually hurt you."
She clutched the bag tightly with both hands. "But they were bad!" she insisted.
"They're gone now, anyway," he said, and she smiled tentatively. I beamed – it might not be the method I preferred, but she was happier now, and it had worked better than my attempts at hushing her. He was smiling at her, but then his eyes flicked up to my face and the grin broadened. "Let's get you back inside," he suggested. "The acrobats are about to start."
I took her hand and led her back in, but when she got scared during the tightrope walking, she climbed onto his lap, and she held his hand on the way home. "Sorry about that," he said to me sheepishly, that night, once they were all in bed. "I wasn't trying to steal your kid."
"Oh, Locke, it's okay! I'm glad she's accepting you. Anything that stops her being so scared and shy all the time is okay by me."
"I'm kind of flattered she likes me, really," he said.
"Well, you should be. She doesn't like many people." I paused, then went ahead and asked. "Were you really scared of clowns?" He laughed, but he didn't answer.