By Moadine
For Disclaimer and Author's Notes, see Prologue.
Chapter Two:
“What did you do, Charlie?” Rose hissed as soon as she had closed the door that separated the bedroom from the living room.
Charlie retorted with a question of his own. “What was I supposed to do- leave him bleeding in that alleyway, maybe?”
“How about taking him to a hospital?”
“Rose,” he sighed, “He told me that they threatened to finish the job if he went to the cops and the cops would definitely have wanted to interrogate him at the hospital. There was nowhere else safe to go.”
“So you bring a stranger in here, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to stop him if he tried to attack-”
“Rose, look at him. Does that man in there look like he could hurt a flea in the condition he’s in?”
His wife opened their door a little and risked a look into the living room. Will was still sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket, staring into his mug of coffee and shaking noticeably. He hadn’t even bothered to turn on the TV to distract himself. Rose lifted her eyes to the ceiling as she sighed in defeat, turned around and closed the door behind her.
“No. He looks… helpless,” she conceded.
“Exactly.”
She opened and shut her mouth, as if hesitant to say something. Then, resting one hand on her growing stomach, she finally managed to say, “All right, he can stay.”
“Thank you.” Charlie brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “I promise you, the first sign that he’s going to be trouble and he’ll be out on the streets.”
“All right.”
“Okay. I’ll start dinner while he takes a shower and you relax. Sound good?”
Rose wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and gave him a gentle kiss, trying to forget that there was a complete stranger in the next room. “Sounds great.”
As Charlie went back into the living room, Rose couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. She didn’t like this. No, she didn’t like this situation at all. She ran her fingers through her dark brown curls, took a deep breath, and re-entered the living room as well.
Charlie, on the other hand, felt as if he was going through a test to prove his worthiness as a father. He ushered Will into the bathroom, got him a towel, and started to make dinner. After a moment or two, he heard the shower start running and he smiled to himself.
“Hey honey, you want salad and chicken for supper?”
“Sounds good,” came the reply from the living room.
“Good, because that’s all we have left in the ‘fridge. I’m going to have to go shopping tomorrow after work.”
“No, I can do that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Charles, I am not an invalid.”
His smile got wider at her comment. “Of course not, darling. I was just making sure you wanted to do the shopping.” With no argument to fight, he heard her turn on the TV. Meanwhile, he set about mixing the salad.
Ten minutes later, Will came out of the bathroom sopping wet and clad only in a towel.
“Oh!” Rose exclaimed, nearly jumping out of her seat. “I think I should get you some of Charlie’s old clothes.” Politely averting her gaze, she charged off to their bedroom. She was back before either of the men could start feeling too awkward. “Here. You can keep these.” She handed him a gray shirt that was now too small for Charlie and a pair of faded old jeans. Then Will was turned around and gently pushed back into the bathroom.
As their guest changed, Rose glared at her husband through the doorway to the kitchen. “You couldn’t have gotten him clothing before he went into the shower?”
Charlie shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t think about that.”
“Well think about this. What is he going to do while you’re at work and I’m shopping?”
“I was actually thinking of going to look somebody up,” Will said, coming out of the bathroom as he pulled the shirt over his head.
Both husband and wife took a moment to look at him. Cleaned up, he looked much different than what he had looked like coming through their door. Both could see that he had a lean, well-muscled body and the bluest eyes either of them had seen, topped off by unruly, almost shaggy, light brown hair.
“I thought you had nowhere to go,” Charlie asked in confusion as his wife continued to stare at their guest.
“I don’t. I came here looking for my brother. We- we had a disagreement a long time ago and disowned each other. With the death of my father a month ago, I decided to try to make up with him. Last time anyone in my family heard from him was about five years ago. He was living in L.A. at the time. That’s why I came here.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry, Will. I never thought-”
He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Not your fault. You didn’t start the bloody disagreement between him and me.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help you, let me know.”
“’course.”
Then Charlie smiled and changed the subject. “Salad’s ready and the chicken will be ready in a few minutes, so let’s eat.”
So the Winfield family, with the addition of Will, sat down to their meal and began to talk about the events of the day, starting with Charlie’s bad day at work.
*****
Later that night, the man who had called himself William Ashton tossed and turned in his bed in the guest room. He muttered mostly gibberish in his sleep, but had anyone been listening, they would have heard him at one point distinctly mutter the phrase, “Four. Not one. Four.”
On to Chapter 3
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