Betsy

by Kirsten Osbourne

  “That’s wonderful, Betsy. You have a good evening, too.”

  When Charles left the building, Betsy slumped down into a chair, feeling both excited and exhausted after their conversation. What was she getting herself into?

  Chapter 2

  When Betsy returned home, the house was abuzz with activity. Her sister Dorothy and her husband Carter were visiting with their son, Philip. They lived in a lovely home on the edge of Nowhere. Carter practiced law alongside Cletus.

  Edna Petunia was making silly faces at the baby in the kitchen, while Gertrude, another one of Betsy’s sisters, was frowning as she helped to prepare vegetables for dinner. Gertrude was a librarian and almost always wore a sour expression on her face, even when she wasn’t peeling an onion. Hattie and Katie, the two youngest girls, giggled as Philip reached toward Edna Petunia’s bosom. He—like the rest of the family—knew that was where she kept her peppermint sticks.

  “There’s my little auctioneer!” Cletus said proudly as she walked into the family room.

  Betsy giggled. “I just sweep the floors.”

  “You keep them in business, Betsy. If it weren’t for you, I’m sure the whole place would have gone bankrupt by now.”

  Betsy smiled softly. “Work was fine today.”

  Cletus detected a hint of something in her words. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing—"

  “Betsy’s got a secret! Tell us, tell us!” Theresa shouted.

  Hope brought a plate of chocolate chip cookies into the family room and began passing them around. Cletus took a handful.

  “Don’t go spoiling dinner, now!” Gertie’s shrill voice could be heard from the kitchen. “There’s cake for dessert!”

  “What’s your secret, Betsy?” Theresa never forgot anything.

  “Absolutely nothing at all!”

  “Yes, but you’ve got a sly smile on your face as if you are hiding something.” Cletus Sanders was no fool. He knew when one of his daughters was trying to sneak something past him.

  “It’s nothing, really.” Betsy knew she was blushing again. The number of times her face had turned red that day had to be a record.

  “Please, Betsy! You have to tell us!” Katie chimed in as she came into the family room.

  “There’s a new collector at the auction house. He wants me to work for him!” Finally, Betsy blurted out her news. She hated attention, but she realized her family wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

  “And quit your work at the auction house?” Cletus frowned. It was a steady, well-paying job, and those could be hard to come by in a small town like Nowhere.

  “No, that’s the best part. I would do it after work, a few days a week. He has four younger siblings he’s raising on his own.”

  “He does? What happened to his parents?” Theresa wanted to know.

  “They died. He didn’t say how, but it was recently.”

  “Oh, my. That’s just awful.” Hope grabbed another cookie.

  “Well, I don’t know how I feel about you spending so much time with another family. You already work a full-time job.” Cletus looked sternly at Betsy. He loved that his daughters were so independent and hard-working, but he also felt it was his job to teach them balance. He loved his job, but he also loved his wife and family, and the life they’d built together.

  Betsy felt sad as she thought about Charles all by himself, trying to raise his siblings. “Cletus, he’s really hurting. I could tell from the way he talked to me about it. I believe I could really help this man and his family. That’s what we learn about in church every week, isn’t it? Helping our neighbors?”

  Cletus smiled. “You’ve got me there, Betsy.”

  Just then, Edna Petunia came into the family room. “Dinner’s ready! Where’s Betsy got you, Cletus?” She leaned down and gave him a big kiss on the lips. Betsy still hadn’t gotten used to all the affection her parents showed one another. It was wonderful that they loved each other so much, but they seemed like a pair of teenagers the way they constantly were kissing and hugging.

  “Betsy has gotten herself a second job.” Cletus couldn’t help but be impressed.

  “I didn’t accept it yet—” Betsy tried to explain.

  “There’s a man involved!” Theresa shouted as she and the others joined the rest of the family in the kitchen. The table was set with two extra places for Dorothy and Carter, and Katie sat with Philip on her lap, giving his busy parents a break.

  Betsy sighed. She loved her family, but they sure knew how to make a mountain out of a molehill.

  The next day at work, Betsy waited until Mr. Fitzsimmons had gone home for the day before she said anything to Charles. She didn’t want Mr. Fitzsimmons to get the wrong idea.

  “I’ve thought about it, and I can help you with cleaning around the house.”

  Charles’s face broke out into a huge, relieved grin. “Thank you so much, Betsy. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  Betsy nodded in response. She felt nervous, but also excited.

  “Are you ready to leave for the day?” Charles put his hat on. Betsy nodded. She grabbed her sweater and keys and locked up for the day.

  Charles led Betsy down one of the side streets in Nowhere until they came to a small, dilapidated house. The step creaked as Betsy stepped onto the porch. Surely, the family couldn’t live in such a place. But Charles pulled a key from his pocket and entered the house. He motioned for her to come inside.

  Betsy immediately smelled something rotten, but before she could think of what it could be, she was hit in the stomach and knocked to the ground.

  “David!” Charles yelled in frustration and picked up a small boy off of Betsy. Charles set the boy aside and bent down to help Betsy up.

  “I am so sorry about this.” Charles looked mortified about his brother’s behavior, but Betsy thought he should be embarrassed about the smell instead. She still couldn’t figure out what it was or where it was coming from – but she was going to have to do something about it fast. She could barely breathe.

  “David, you must be more careful about running in the house! You could have hurt Betsy!” Charles sternly reprimanded his brother. “Everyone, come in here!” Charles waited until all three boys and a tiny girl were lined up in a row. The little girl was smiling shyly at Betsy, and Betsy immediately felt a pang of love in her heart for the sweet child. “Everyone, this is Betsy. She will be here three days per week to help us around the house. You will listen to her and respect her. Is that clear?”

  The children all nodded their heads at their older brother.

  “Okay. Good.” Charles turned to Betsy. “Introduce yourselves to her, please.”

  The tallest boy stuck his hand out stiffly for Betsy to shake. He had blonde hair and chubby cheeks. “I’m Matthew. I’m in charge when Charles is at work.”

  The next boy in line had darker hair and did a little curtsy. Charles coughed, and he straightened up and shook Betsy’s hand like Matthew had. “I’m Samuel, but you can call me Sam.”

  “He’s our practical joker.” Charles tone made it clear that he was not amused.

  “I’m David!” The boy who had barreled into Betsy as she had entered the house threw himself at her skirt and wrapped his arms around her legs. She couldn’t help but be touched at the little boy’s warmth.

  “I’m Amy, and I’m the only girl. Are you my new mama?” Betsy’s heart sank, and she swallowed hard to keep from crying.

  “I’m Betsy, and I’m going to help your brother out around the house. You know, he’s very busy, and he works hard to make sure you all have what you need. I’m not your new mama, but I hope I’ll be your friend.” Betsy was pleased with what she’d said, since she wanted to let the girl down gently, but she saw Charles shaking his head and frowning. She would have to ask him what that was about later.

  “Now it’s time for you all to get out of the way. We need some grown-up time.” Charles looked sternly at the children and they di
spersed…David bounded outside first, followed by the rest of his siblings at a slower pace. “I’ll show you the kitchen next.”

  Charles walked a few feet into the kitchen, which was smaller and filthier than the front room had been. Pots and pans were piled high in the sink. There seemed to be a stove in the corner, but you couldn’t get to it because there were crates filled with sacks of flour and produce all over.

  Charles watched Betsy carefully. She seemed to be struggling to keep a neutral face, and he was worried she would run away from the house and never come back again. He was ashamed of how messy the house had become, but every time he tried to clean it up, it just went right back to being messy again a day or two later. He knew he needed help, and that Betsy was exactly the person to give it.

  After the kitchen, Charles brought Betsy into the single bedroom. There was one bed in the middle of the room, and almost everything was covered in several inches of dust. There was a stack in the corner of clothes covered in dirt that was nearly as tall as Samuel. “The younger kids share the bed, and Matthew stays here.” Charles pointed to a cot underneath the room’s only window.

  “Where do you sleep?” Betsy flushed red as she spoke the words.

  “Usually in the front room, there’s a straw mat I put out on the floor.”

  Betsy nodded in understanding. Back in New York, there had been a few times when some of the girls had to sleep on the floor. And there were times when Cletus slept on the floor of his own bedroom, claiming it was good for his back.

  Betsy saw a lovely large blue vase on the floor next to the cot. It seemed out of place in the disarray. “What’s that?”

  “That was my mother’s vase. She loved to put fresh flowers in it – it was passed down throughout her family for years. Matthew likes to have it near when he sleeps.”

  “Well, it’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” Charles paused for a moment and stared at Betsy, trying to gauge her reaction. “And that’s the house.”

  “All right, then. I’ll start in the kitchen!” Betsy’s tone was bright, but she was a little worried that she would be there all evening cleaning. “You didn’t mention anything about cooking. What do you plan on having for dinner?”

  Charles’s face fell. “I forgot about that today! I was so excited to bring you here – I usually just make a stew.”

  “A disgusting stew!” one of the children yelled from the other room. Betsy stifled a laugh.

  “It turns out I’m actually a decent cook. I’ve been learning from Edna Petunia. If you show me where a few things are, I can make you something for dinner tonight.”

  “Really?” Charles seemed giddy at the prospect of Betsy preparing a meal. “Anything other than stew would be a real treat. I’ll pay you a higher wage, of course. You really don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. I think I’ll enjoy it. I’ll get more practice at cooking. In our house, Edna Petunia is in charge of the kitchen. Come to think of it, she’s in charge of just about everything.” Betsy explored the tiny pantry and decided to make a chicken pot pie.

  “By the way, Charles?”

  “What is it?”

  “Earlier with the children. It seemed like you didn’t like it when I said I’d be their friend. Did I say something wrong?”

  “Oh – I want to make it clear to them that you and I are the adults in this house, and therefore the authorities. Otherwise, they’ll only misbehave and form bad habits.”

  Betsy nodded. She thought Charles was going overboard, but they were his siblings, and he was in charge. “I understand.”

  “Thank you, Betsy.”

  She cleared off a section of the narrow table and got to work. As she worked, Charles gathered the children in the front room and began reading to them. Amy and Samuel listened quietly, but David couldn’t stop getting up and racing around the house. Since Matthew was older and more advanced in his studies, he went into the bedroom and worked on some lessons.

  Betsy had her work cut out for her. She finished rolling the crust and put the filling inside, then made her way through the mess to the stove. While it was baking, she found some old rags in the bedroom. She ripped them into smaller pieces and began dusting the kitchen as quickly as she could. Next, she got out the mop. There were still so many things she needed to do, but she thought if she got the kitchen in order, that would be a start.

  The pot pie had cooked in no time at all, and Betsy gathered the children and Charles into the kitchen for their dinner. When Betsy heard the church bells chime eight o’clock, she gasped.

  “I had no idea it was so late! I need to get home or my family will be worried about me.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? This looks delicious.” Charles looked hopeful, and Betsy hated to disappoint him.

  “No, they said they’d save me a plate. Thank you for the offer, though.”

  “Thank you, Betsy. Let me walk you out.”

  As Betsy and Charles walked toward the front door, David tried to sneak a bit of the pot pie.

  “David, you’d better not touch that pie until I’ve served you a slice!” Charles’s voice boomed loudly. David sheepishly pulled his hand back.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” Charles looked out into the dusk. Nowhere was a very safe town, but he didn’t like the idea of Betsy walking on her own.

  “I’ll be fine. I’d rather you ate a hot dinner.” Betsy smiled.

  “Well, thank you. You’ve done so much for us tonight.”

  “It was barely a start. I am looking forward to when I come back on Friday. I have a lot left to do to get things in shape.”

  Charles pressed Betsy’s hand into his. “Thank you, Betsy. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  Betsy felt her entire body reacting to Charles’s touch. She could have stood on the front porch like that for the rest of the evening without complaining. It felt wrong when she finally pulled away from him, but she knew she needed to get back. Her family would be worried sick.

  “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow at the auction house.”

  “Good night, Betsy.”

  As Betsy hurried home, all she could think about was the incredible warmth of Charles’s hand in hers.

  Chapter 3

  For the next few days, work at the auction house seemed interminable. Nothing seemed to be to Mr. Fitzsimmon’s liking, and both Betsy and Charles felt the wrath of his displeasure. But each evening, after the older man left, Charles would show Betsy something incredible he’d found in the auction lot. Sometimes it was a beautiful old leather-bound book or journal, a unique piece of jewelry, or even an ornate spyglass.

  Betsy loved the late afternoons when she had Charles and the auction house to herself. She also loved being at the Brooks’ house, but it was much more chaotic with all the children around. She found herself adjusting to the new arrangement quickly. The children were sweet. They certainly could be unruly and mischievous at times but they had good hearts.

  Betsy made slow but steady progress around the house. The first step was dusting all the surfaces in every room and mopping the entire floor. She picked up all the clothes in the bedroom, washed them, and hung them up to dry on a line outside. She organized the pantry and labeled all of the food so Charles would know what he had and what he needed. She also taught the children how to keep their house tidy.

  “You’re a natural. You know that, right?” Charles said one evening, a look of wonder on his face.

  “A natural at what?” Betsy was washing dishes as David dried them.

  Charles walked up to Betsy and spoke quietly. “At being a mother.”

  Heat rushed to Betsy’s cheeks, and she looked down at the sink. “Oh, I’m just doing what any woman would do in this situation.”

  “You and I both know that’s not true.” With that, Charles slipped back into the front room, where he was reading a book.

  “I dried all the dishes, can I go play now?”
Even though David was learning to help out, he still had very little patience.

  Betsy laughed at his eager face. “Sure, David.” She began to put the last of the dishes back in the cupboard.

  Less than a minute later, she and Charles heard a loud crash in the bedroom. They both went running in.

  David was on the ground, his little face frozen in an expression of horror. Lying next to him in pieces was his mother’s prized vase. Betsy had never seen Charles look so angry. His face turned an ugly dark red.

  “I’ve told you a thousand times to be more careful! Look what you’ve done!” he yelled at his younger brother. David began to sob.

  “There, there.” Betsy stepped a little closer to David. “Don’t move too much. I don’t want you to get hurt on any sharp edges.” She took her handkerchief and wiped his tear-streaked face. Charles stormed out of the room in disgust.

  Betsy carefully helped David up and he curled up on the bed, still crying. She got a broom and a dustpan and began to sweep up the bigger pieces of the vase. While she was cleaning, Amy came in the room.

  “What happened to Mama’s vase?” The little girl looked forlornly from the pile of broken glass to David, who was rocking back and forth on the bed.

  “There was a little accident. Nothing to worry about.” Betsy tried to soothe her, but Charles stomped back into the room, and Amy jumped back in fear.

  “You were very bad, David. As your punishment, no dessert or treats and no playing outside for the next two weeks.”

  “But Charlie—” David sat up in protest.

  “I will not discuss this any further. You ruined Mother’s favorite vase! We can never get it back!”

  Betsy had never heard Charles speak so cruelly before. She didn’t know what to do. She hated to see Charles yelling at his siblings like that. They were only children. But she also didn’t want to disrespect him in his own home.