Page 40 of Sugarplum Dreams
“I see. Well, all I have to do this morning is make pancakes, so I guess it’s a special occasion.”
“Is it a special occasion when the dad is in the kitchen?” Charity said, and the sound of her voice made him turn and get warm all over.
She had Evans on one hip, and Serafina held her hand as they stood there. But he didn’t notice the children as much as he noticed the rosy cheeks of his wife, the smiling eyes, and the way her hair waved around her face. Maybe there was a little bit of sadness on her face, and he wondered at that. Was there something wrong? Was she regretting the fact that they had gotten married yesterday?
He hated that he hadn’t been with her last night, didn’t know what she was thinking, couldn’t talk to her as the doubts rolled in and help her keep them away. He had a few doubts of his own, although mostly they were related to whether or not he could be a good husband and a good father, stepping into someoneelse’s role and taking on five children at once. It felt like a huge undertaking and one he wasn’t sure he was ready for.
He wouldn’t have minded having her snuggled up against him, telling him that everything was going to be okay. That they would trust in the Lord and do the best they could. Wasn’t that what being married was? Having someone beside you to stand shoulder to shoulder with you while you faced the world. To remind you of what the Bible said when you forgot, just as you reminded them.
“I think it’s a special occasion when Mom is in the kitchen with Dad,” he said and was rewarded with a smile that reached her eyes and drove the sadness away. “The kids just said that it had to be a special occasion when we made pancakes. So, I think we have to make something up, since it isn’t anyone’s birthday, and yesterday was Christmas.”
“Well, since yesterday was Christmas, we can celebrate our wedding today,” she said, lifting her brow and looking around at the children who clapped and cheered, like she’d suggested they all eat cake for breakfast and watch cartoons all day.
Wilson laughed. Sometimes children were just the easiest thing ever, and then sometimes it didn’t matter what a person did, he couldn’t make them happy.
He heard that about women too, but Charity didn’t seem to be like normal women. She seemed to be happy no matter what or at least able to talk herself out of being upset.
Maybe someday he’d be able to tell her how much he appreciated that about her.
“Mr. Wilson said that I could run the griddle,” Gifford announced to his mom as soon as the other kids were quiet enough for him to talk.
“Oh, he did?” she said, tilting her head and lifting her brows.
Gifford nodded, big nods where his chin bumped his chest with every downward turn of his head.
“Is that okay with you?” Wilson asked, although it was probably too late.
“If you think you can handle it.”
“Oh, I know we can.” He figured he’d be right there, able to supervise in case anything went wrong.
“All right then.”
“And we don’t need a recipe. He said the recipe is in his head.”
“Impressive. So he’s made pancakes a lot.”
“When I was a kid,” Wilson said as he got the measuring cup out and measured flour into a bowl, allowing Lavinia to dump it in, “I was responsible for breakfast one day every week. It runs in my mind it was usually Tuesdays. Pancakes was the meal that I always made. So yeah, I’ve made them for years, and I have the recipe memorized, although… I’m doubling it today.”
“I hope there would have been as many people eating at your house.”
“Terry was out of the house for years, and sometimes Isadora didn’t eat much. And then she complained the pancakes were just big globs of carbs, and she ate fruit or something instead.”
“Wow. I guess I kind of love big globs of carbs. I think I’ll take a double portion.”
Wilson laughed as he continued to allow Banks and Lavinia to help him measure the ingredients out and crack the eggs.
“Now, we’re going to stir it all up, but we can’t stir too much, because that’s the key to good pancakes. Just stir until it’s mixed, and no more.”
“Really? That’s the key?” Banks said, like he was remembering everything that Wilson told him for a future date.
It struck Wilson anew the responsibility he had to raise these children. They were looking at him, watching him, emulating him, and thinking about the things that he said and did. It feltlike a heavy responsibility. And of course it was, but it was a responsibility that every man who had a child had.
Gifford put the first pancakes on the griddle, and Charity set the table with Serafina and Evans, and while they were waiting, he walked over to where Charity stood, washing off the utensils that they’d used and putting them in the drainboard.
He wanted to put his arm around her and nuzzle her cheek, maybe kiss her neck and tell her good morning, but Pastor Connelly had said he needed to wait a year, and that seemed a little forward for a couple who was supposed to be courting, even though they were married. So, he leaned his hip against the counter and shoved a hand in his pocket, feeling a little awkward, because he couldn’t do what he wanted to do.
“Did you sleep well?”
