Chapter 3
Chapter Three
W ilson held a young child on each knee and sat awkwardly at the table. This was not going the way he had anticipated.
His thought was that he would knock on the door, Charity would answer, and she would step outside while he presented all the finer points of his plan, convincing her that a marriage of convenience was in her best interest. And that would be it.
They’d get married within the next few days, and her children would have a father and she would have a protector and provider and he would be doing the good deed of a lifetime.
Was that really what he thought he was going to do? Swoop in and be the savior here?
Seemed like one man wasn’t nearly enough for all the chaos and problems that he’d seen just in the ten minutes that he’d been sitting here.
“That’s fine. Would you like to talk about it right here?
” he asked, trying to sound calm. She just told him that this was all the privacy they were going to get.
And he understood what she was saying. She couldn’t just leave her kids.
Although, he kind of figured she could probably step outside for a few minutes.
But whether it was because she didn’t want to, or because she really was concerned about leaving her children, he could go with the flow. Something told him that he was going to have to learn to go with a lot of flows if this plan worked out.
This is how You’re going to shape me, Lord? Send me into a family with five small children and a woman who…is a little bit more stubborn than she seemed last time I’d been in her vicinity?
He knew her from church, although they didn’t exactly run in the same circles. She was, of course, involved in all things children, while he, a bachelor with no children of his own, was not.
He had plenty of nieces and nephews, but somehow, it never seemed to be as chaotic at his mother’s house, even when all of her grandchildren were there, as it was in Charity’s house this morning.
She lifted a shoulder and looked around. “It really has to be. I have one kid who’s bleeding and broken glass that really should be cleaned up, and I ought not to leave kids unsupervised in here until that’s done at least.”
“I can clean up the glass, if you just tell me where the broom and dustpan is.” He didn’t mind.
He actually enjoyed growing up in a big family, and while he didn’t remember the chaos, he remembered the camaraderie, always having someone to play with, and while he did remember having to share, as an adult he knew that having siblings had taught him many valuable lessons about life, loving people the way they were, not being able to change anyone but himself, and knowing that there were other people who were going to be affected by the decisions that he made.
Big families were not popular in America anymore, but maybe that was part of the overall problem. Because so many good lessons were learned when people grew up with lots of siblings.
He had never considered how hard it was on the parents to raise such big families though.
“It’s behind the door right there. If you don’t mind?” she asked, and he’d be willing to bet that she didn’t typically put her guests to work, but today seemed to be an anomaly. Maybe guests didn’t typically show up when she had someone bleeding.
“I’ll get it,” he said, standing and realizing that he had one child in each hand. How was he going to work a broom and dustpan?
“Serafina,” Charity said, holding out her hands.
This time, the little girl went. He’d felt bad for Charity last time when she tried to get her to go and she wouldn’t.
He figured it was probably just the newness of someone else making the little girl want to stay and giggle with the silly story he’d been telling her.
As soon as she went, the little boy in his other arm started fussing for his mother as well.
“I can take him, but if you don’t mind?” Charity said, lifting her brows.
“I don’t mind at all. Although I was wondering how I was going to work a broom with two kids in my arms, I think I can do it with just one.”
She nodded, barely cracking a smile. She’d probably figured out a long time ago how to sweep and hold kids and probably do dishes and stand on her head at the same time too, if the chaos in the house was any indication.
“Just you and me, kiddo,” he said to the little boy as he walked toward the door where Charity had indicated the broom was. The kid stared at him with big eyes, and Wilson made a face, causing him to laugh.
He’d always been pretty good with his nieces and nephews, but he supposed it was a little different when a person could get tired of them and leave, versus being forced to stay forever and ever, amen.
Thinking about it like that, it seemed like a pretty big responsibility, and he wondered again if maybe he hadn’t thought it all through.
But once more he was reminded that God had clearly shown him that this was the way he should be going. Still, just because he knew what the Lord wanted didn’t mean that he was going about it in the right way. Was there a better way?
God was silent on this. Sometimes it seemed that God’s silence meant that maybe he just needed to look around and figure some things out. After all, God had given him a brain, and He probably expected him to use it.
It was a little harder than he thought, juggling the kid and the broom and the dustpan and getting all the glass swept up.
He dropped it once and had to start again.
The boy wiggled in his arms, and he almost set him down, but he wasn’t sure whether he could keep him out of the glass or not, so he wrestled the boy with one hand and the broom with the other.
It seemed like neither hand was winning.
“Here. Let me give you a hand with that.” Charity’s voice came from behind him as he dropped the dustpan for the second time.
Turning, he saw she had her hand out for the young boy.
With the daughter in her other hand, she couldn’t grab him securely, so Wilson took the boy by the arms and put him next to her so she could just wrap her arm around him.
She was closer than he expected, and… It felt odd.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it though, since there was the glass cleanup and the talk after that he had to get through.
“Thank you. I guess I’m not used to wrangling two things at once.”
“No problem. I was able to grow into it, and I think it’s easier than having it dumped upon you. You don’t have to clean that up. I can set these guys down and do it myself.”
“I have it,” he said. He wanted to be able to talk to her, and with the glass on the floor, she wouldn’t be comfortable.
With two hands, he was able to do it in just a few seconds, and he practically followed Charity back out to the kitchen.
“I take it the blood stopped?” he asked, walking to the garbage can that he’d spotted earlier.
“I think so. I was afraid he was going to need stitches, but I think he’s going to be okay.”
“You said that so calmly.” He was teasing a little. Obviously she was used to things not going the way she expected them to.
“I wasn’t being very calm when you came in.”
“I noticed.” He wasn’t sure what to say.
He could hardly deny that she’d been yelling at her child.
After seeing the chaos in the house, he couldn’t blame her.
In fact, if anything, he would have to ask how she was able to be so sane despite all the craziness around her.
“Is that the way it usually is?” He couldn’t help but ask.
There was a small part of him that said he really didn’t want to know.
Or maybe it would be better if he didn’t know.
After all, knowing might make him want to change his mind. And he hadn’t even asked her yet.
“Some days it’s worse,” she said with a forced smile. Like she was going to smile despite everything that had been happening around her.
“I see.” He nodded, putting the broom and dustpan back where they belonged and then coming back over to the table where she seated herself.
“Please sit down,” she said as he stopped beside her.
He hadn’t gotten a ring.
How could he just now be thinking about that? Wait, did he need a ring? He wasn’t really thinking that this would be a real marriage. Well, a real marriage as in lifetime commitment, yes, but…they weren’t starting it the way normal people did.
But he wasn’t going to have time to explain all that to her. He figured he would probably be doing well if he managed to get the proposal out without being interrupted.
“Mommy, I want another color!” The girl who had opened the door for him stood in the opening to the kitchen, a container of playdough in her hands as she waved it in front of Charity’s face.
“Did you clean it all up and put it back in the container?” Charity asked, sounding a lot more calm than what he felt.
“I did!”
“All right. I’ll get you a new color, and then you’re going to have to play quietly with it until I’m done talking to Mr. Wilson, okay?”
The girl nodded, glancing at Wilson before she looked back at her mom.
“Excuse me for just one second, please,” Charity said, taking the playdough and giving him an apologetic smile before standing up with a child in both arms still.
“I can hold one of those kids for you if you want me to,” he offered, realizing that he probably should have offered before she got up.
“I think I have it,” she said, already taking two steps toward the door.
“All right,” he said, sitting back down from where he’d gotten up in a half crouch.
Several minutes later, she came back into the kitchen.
“Maybe this time, we’ll have enough time for you to get it out,” she said, laughing a little.
“At least you’re not crazy yet. I’ve been sitting here thinking I would probably be insane with all of this chaos.”
“There are days I feel like it,” she said.
“Mom, my head doesn’t hurt anymore. Can I go play?” The boy who had been bleeding walked into the kitchen, his hand at the back of his head holding a bloodied tissue to it.
“Just sit down and color for a little bit so we don’t start that bleeding again.”
“I feel fine. I want to take this off.” He ripped the tissue off the back of his head, and while it didn’t look like it was gushing, there were copious amounts of blood on it. In Wilson’s experience, it took a little while before a cut that was bleeding that bad stopped completely.
“Oh goodness, I think you’re bleeding again,” Charity said as he stood with his back toward her.
“Can you hold the baby, please?” she asked, looking at Wilson. “I’m so sorry.”
“Of course, and don’t apologize,” he said.
She didn’t answer but hurried to grab a tissue and guide her son into the other room.
It was a few moments before she came back out, apologizing for leaving him so long.
The little boy on his lap was doing just fine, and Wilson said, “Maybe you could tell me his name. I’ve asked him a couple of times, but I can’t understand what he’s saying.
If we’re going to be spending so much time together, I should know what to call him at least.”
“That’s Evans,” Charity said, smiling and appearing relieved that he wasn’t upset.
She’d no sooner settled herself than the little girl with the playdough was back asking for a different color. This time, Charity sent her back into the room without getting her a new one.
“If you want to talk to me, you better spit it out fast.”
“Will you marry me?”