Betsy--#8--Orlan Orphans Page 3

  “May I speak to you for a moment?” Betsy finally decided to ask. Charles looked confused, but followed her out to the front room. “I really think it was an accident. David feels very badly.”

  “It was all I had left.” Charles spoke softly, holding his temple as if it were in pain.

  Betsy didn’t know how to comfort him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “What am I doing, Betsy?” Charles’s eyes were shining. Betsy gently wrapped her arms around him, and he lowered his head onto her shoulder. Her heart rate seemed to double, and she tried to steady herself with deep breaths.

  “It will be all right. I don’t know how, but I promise you, things will work out.” She didn’t know where her words were coming from, but they felt true, and they seemed to ease Charles’s mind. They stood like that for a few moments until the silence was broken by Matthew, who had been playing outside.

  “Are you two going to kiss?” Matthew demanded.

  Betsy jumped back from Charles. “I should get back to the dishes.”

  Charles glared at his brother. “You shouldn’t ask impolite questions, Matthew.”

  Matthew laughed and went into the bedroom. Charles came into the kitchen and watched as Betsy dusted the pantry.

  Charles looked genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I know I lose my temper sometimes with the children.”

  “It’s understandable that you would be upset about losing your mother’s vase. It was very special to her.” Betsy didn’t completely understand what he was going through, but her heart went out to him.

  “I think the children need more structure. I’m going to take away their toys and limit their outdoor time. They’ll help you with chores or do their lessons, and that’s it.” Charles’s expression was firm.

  “Are you sure about that?” Betsy wasn’t sure why she was talking back to Charles. After all, he was paying her to do what he told her to do. She had no right to tell him how to raise his own siblings. He was their guardian, not her.

  “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. And I need you, as the other adult that the children see, to reinforce that with them. Is that clear?” Charles’s tone was cold toward Betsy—nothing like the sad, scared man who had laid his head on her shoulder a few minutes before.

  Betsy nodded. “That’s clear.”

  Charles was making it perfectly clear…she was his employee and nothing else. Betsy vowed that she would stop thinking about Charles’s strong hands or broad shoulders. If he wanted a firm authority figure, that’s what she’d be.

  “Matthew, hush! Help your sister sound out the words.” Betsy was cleaning out the icebox. Charles was still at the auction house, but had asked her to make sure the children were doing their lessons at home and get started on dinner. She knew he would be back any minute.

  The boys were in a rare state. Matthew was talking nonstop about a new automobile he’d seen in town. Samuel and David had found an empty crate and were taking turns hiding inside it. But that was how children were when their toys were taken away—they’d make a game out of anything. Only Amy was patiently sitting and paying attention.

  Betsy knew Charles would be upset if he came home and found that the children were not studying. But at the same time, she also felt that the children needed time to stretch out and play. It seemed wrong that they were being cooped up in their little house all the time. It was summer, so they didn’t even have school as an excuse for why they could leave the house.

  Charles had insisted on a strict schedule. When he got home from the auction house, the children were to begin on their lessons and help with chores. They rotated turns helping with dinner and cleaning each night. They were in bed by eight o’clock each night. What they did while he was at work was up to them, but he inspected the house as soon as he got home to make sure they didn’t cause more of a mess.

  Betsy was happy for the help with the cleaning—the house was certainly in much better condition now—but she felt sorry for the children. They were clearly unhappy, so she tried to think of small games she could play with them that could distract them from their chores.

  She thought about saying something to Charles, but he had a point. The children had food, shelter, and books. Technically, they had everything they needed. Betsy just thought they deserved a little bit more.

  “Betsy? Could we go outside and look at the stars? Papa used to show them to us, and we haven’t done that in a long while.” Samuel was tugging at Betsy’s sleeve.

  “I’m sorry, Samuel. Tonight we have chores and lessons to finish.”

  “We never do anything fun!” David joined in the protest.

  “It’s not fair!” Matthew shouted.

  Even little Amy stuck out her lower lip. “I want to do something fun, too.”

  “You have your lessons, and that’s that. Now, let’s start fixing dinner. That will be a nice break from reading.” Betsy tried to keep her voice even and firm. She wanted to make sure she was doing exactly what Charles had asked of her. But it was so difficult when she looked at the children’s sweet faces.

  Amy walked up to the icebox and stared right at Betsy. “You seemed nice at first. But now you’re not nice.” Betsy’s eyes started to well up, but she remembered Charles saying she had to be consistent, no matter what.

  “I’m sorry you think that, Amy. But right now, we need to cook dinner before your brother gets home. Can you go hand me one of the pots from that cupboard?”

  Amy dutifully found a pot for Betsy, and she thanked the young girl. Betsy knew she was doing exactly what she was supposed to…so why did she feel so rotten?

  Chapter 4

  When Charles got home, he saw that dinner—fried chicken—was on the table, and the house was spotless. He looked at Betsy approvingly. They had been following his system for a few weeks, and she had clearly taken his instructions to heart.

  “This looks wonderful.”

  Betsy tried not to think about the way Charles looked in a suit, or to imagine his hand pressing against hers again. She fought hard not to think about what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his arms. She forced herself to stop thinking about what his lips might taste like on hers…

  “Are you all right, Betsy?” Charles looked concerned.

  “I’m fine. I should get going.” Betsy hoped her face hadn’t betrayed her thoughts and feelings about Charles. The truth was, ever since she had started coming to the Brooks’ house, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was always on her mind.

  She knew it was foolish, but she imagined moving into their house and living there all the time. She would help with the children and be a constant presence in their lives, instead of just showing up three days a week and trying to be stern.

  Charles poured himself a glass of water. “Actually, why don’t you stay tonight?”

  “I should be going home. It’s getting late.”

  “You always cook us these delicious meals, and then you leave. Please, you should enjoy this meal with us. I’ll walk you home after, since it will be late.”

  Betsy eyed the door, then looked at Charles. His eyes looked almost hopeful. She knew it wasn’t going to help her get him out of her mind, but she didn’t care. “Okay, I’ll stay. Thank you.”

  Charles’s face brightened immediately. “Children, let’s show Betsy some appreciation for all of her amazing cooking.” He began to set the table—Betsy was shocked to see a man set a table—and motioned for Matthew to start serving the fried chicken. Samuel went outside and picked a few flowers, and Charles put them in a glass in the center of the table.

  Betsy sighed contentedly as the children began to eat their food. This feeling was absolute bliss. Charles was relaxed and smiling in a way she hadn’t seen in weeks. The children were behaving—maybe the strict routine had been working, after all.

  After dinner, Charles allowed the children to have some ice cream for the first time in weeks. David jumped up and did a little dance. After seeing Charles’s serious express
ion, he sat back down again.

  Once the children had finished their ice cream, Betsy tucked them all into bed. Matthew didn’t really need tucking in, but when Betsy offered, he accepted.

  “Goodnight, children.”

  “Goodnight, Betsy!” They sounded so sweet when they were sleepy and tucked under the covers. They seemed like totally different children than they had been just a few hours before. Betsy shook her head. She still had a lot to learn about raising children and families. What she did know was that this one felt good. She closed the door quietly, then went back into the kitchen and finished washing the dishes.

  When she had finished drying the last pot, she gathered her things and found Charles in the front room, looking through an old hat box.

  “What’s that?” She was curious. She hadn’t seen it around the house before.

  “Just some old books and notes my mother kept. This is her Bible.” He handed Betsy a faded, heavy Bible. She turned to the first page and saw his mother’s name in neat cursive script. Next to it was the name of Charles’s father, and below it, the names of their five children.

  “I’m so glad you have this to remember them by. It’s beautiful.”

  Charles seemed off in his own little world. “Thank you.” He remembered where he was. “I’m so sorry. I need to be getting you home, not boring you with stories about my parents.”

  “You’re not boring to me—ever.” Betsy still felt shy when she spoke to Charles so directly, but she wanted him to know that she truly enjoyed talking to him.

  Charles put the scraps of paper and books back into the box, then went into the kitchen and put them back on the top shelf of the pantry where Betsy couldn’t reach. So that was why she hadn’t seen the box before.

  On the walk home, Charles offered Betsy his arm, and she took it. She felt wonderfully safe with Charles by her side.

  He tried to get her to talk about herself. “I feel like you know every last detail about us by now. There must be so much more that we don’t know about you. Please? Anything.” He pretended to get down on his knees and beg. Betsy laughed.

  “There’s not much to tell. I was one of the oldest girls at the orphanage, so I’ve always been around children that were younger than me. I do like to help children.”

  “You’re wonderful with them. The children really adore you.”

  “They’re sweet kids. They really are good, you know?” Betsy truly believed that. She wanted to make sure Charles did, too.

  “I do. I know they can be a handful, but deep down, they are good on the inside. I need to remember that I was that way when I was a kid, too.” Charles seemed completely reasonable. This was a very different story than how he had reacted when the vase was broken.

  Betsy nodded. “Yes. I agree.”

  “As much as we love having you around…”

  Betsy’s heart froze. “What?”

  “I feel bad, because it means I’ve stolen you away from all the gentlemen who are trying to call on you.”

  Betsy almost snorted. “There are no gentlemen, trust me.” There was only one gentleman on her mind—and he was walking right next to her.

  “There must be. You’re beautiful, kind, and caring. Any man would be a fool not to want you.”

  “Thanks. That’s kind, but not true.” Betsy was getting nervous about his line of questioning. Was Charles trying to hint that she should spend more time away from the Brooks family? Maybe he thought he had everything under control, and she should get on with her life. The thought made her very sad.

  Charles stopped suddenly. They were still near the main street, not anywhere close to her house. Betsy turned to face him.

  “Are you all right?” She worried he had fallen ill.

  “I’m okay, but I have something to tell you.”

  Betsy braced herself. Usually, those words led to something bad.

  “Betsy—I’m falling in love with you.”

  Betsy gulped. That was not what she had been expecting. Charles Brooks was in love with her? She had no idea how to respond.

  “I think about you day and night, Betsy. You’re the one for me, I’m sure of it.”

  Betsy had dreamed of hearing these words, but now that it was actually happening, she felt lost. She whispered back to him. “I think of you all the time, too.”

  Charles tipped her head up by the chin and leaned down to kiss her softly. Betsy almost pulled back—she’d never kissed anyone before, and had no idea what to do. But she relaxed and let Charles guide her. He pulled her in close to his chest and wrapped his strong hands around her waist. He kissed her some more, and she let him. She felt the same warm, happy feeling she’d experienced at dinner, but it was much more intense now.

  When they stopped kissing, Betsy took a deep breath. She felt like she needed to say something before they went any further. “Charles, I can’t stop thinking about you, either. But I think we should take it slow. I haven’t known you long, and you have young children in your life. I think we need to get to know each other better before we start kissing each other in the streets at night.”

  When Betsy saw the hurt look on Charles’s face, she worried that she’d made a mistake spilling her heart to him, but she also knew it was important to speak her mind. If there was one thing Edna Petunia and Cletus had taught her, it was that.

  “If that’s what you want, Betsy.” Charles’s tone was kind, but his shoulders slumped as they began walking again.

  Betsy stayed quiet until they reached her house. Charles walked her to her door.

  “Have a good evening, Betsy. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Charles turned to walk away, but the door burst open.

  “Betsy Sanders, there you are! You had Edna Petunia worried sick, you know!” Cletus’s words pierced the still night air. “Don’t stand there sulking, son. Come in and introduce yourself.”

  Charles looked surprised, but followed Cletus’s instructions. Cletus showed him into the formal parlor and took a seat in his usual chair. Edna Petunia flew into the room and threw her arms around Betsy.

  “Betsy Sanders! Where in the world have you been?” Betsy winced as Edna Petunia shrieked loudly into her ear. Edna Petunia turned to Charles. “And who are you?”

  Charles managed to compose himself quickly. “I’m Charles Brooks, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

  Edna Petunia sniffed. “I don’t know if it’s a pleasure that you’ve kept my daughter out of the house until this indecent hour, young man.”

  “Please, Edna Petunia, Cletus, it really wasn’t Mr. Brooks’s fault.” Betsy felt she needed to defend Charles. “He asked me to share a meal with the family, since usually I just leave, and I thought it was good for me to stay. For the children.” Betsy’s words all came out in a jumble. She wasn’t used to expressing her opinions out loud. She usually left that to one of her more outspoken sisters, like Gertrude or Sarah Jane.

  “The young man can speak for himself, Betsy.” Cletus was glaring at Charles, who hadn’t even taken a seat yet. Betsy gestured at the sofa to let him know he could sit down, but Charles remained standing.

  “Sir, ma’am, you’re right. I take full responsibility for keeping Betsy out too late. It was not my intent to worry you in any way. She’s been a wonderful help to me and my family. I don’t want to cause any trouble with you. In fact, I’m grateful to you for allowing her to work for me.”

  “Hmph.” Edna Petunia snorted, but Betsy could tell she was only acting mad. The real anger had vanished from her face, and she wore a smirk now. Cletus was nodding approvingly. Cletus was impressed by a man who could admit his own faults—he’d said as much to Betsy on more than one occasion.

  “I should be going now.” Charles looked at Betsy mournfully, and she began to think about the kiss he had given her. She felt her face grow hot and tried to think about something else to take her mind off him. She worried her parents would be able to tell exactly what she was thinking about just by looking at her.

  Charles headed
for the door, but Cletus stood up and put a hand out to stop him. “One question, son. Since Betsy’s of a certain age, and I have fifteen daughters, I have to ask. Are your feelings toward my daughter honorable?”

  “Excuse me, sir?” Now it was Charles’s turn to look embarrassed. He put his hands in his pockets and stared at the door.

  “I need to know that the type of people Betsy is associating with are going to treat her well. And it should go without saying that my girls are the marrying type.”

  “Of course, sir. I can assure you that Betsy and I are strictly friends. We work together and treat each other cordially. Beyond that, I have no expectations.” Charles kept his tone even and steady, but he didn’t mean a single word he was saying. Of course he had expectations. He was falling for Betsy. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman…kind, patient, caring, great with children and an amazing cook. But he’d tried to explain how he felt—he’d even kissed her—and she had told him she wanted to take things slow. He assumed that meant that he had crossed a line, and she wanted to keep things professional. Well, if that was what she wanted, that was what he’d do. Betsy had become far too important to his family to try to end their arrangement. Still, it was going to be very hard not to kiss her again.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Cletus patted Charles on the back. “You can get on your way now.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Charles tipped his hat toward Edna Petunia, Betsy, and Cletus. “Good night, ma’am, miss. Good night, sir.” Betsy followed him to the door and watched as he set out for his house. She closed the door and found Edna Petunia staring at her.

  “Charles told us his intentions toward you. But what are your intentions toward him?” Edna Petunia giggled. Cletus came over to the two women.

  “I don’t want to know what you girls are cackling about. It’s time for me to go to bed, though. Good night, my love.” Cletus kissed Edna Petunia noisily for a few seconds, even though Betsy was standing right next to them. She tried to look away, but she was wedged in.