A Mother in the Making

by Gabrielle Meyer

  After he made his intentions known, her parents insisted that Marjorie allow him to court her. She was eager to finally please them, so she agreed.

  Preston was everything her parents had hoped for. With his wealth, success and good connections, it was supposed to be the match of the year. But by the time she realized Preston did not love her, it was too late to call the wedding off, and she was forced to leave him at the altar.

  Lilly sat on the bed and grasped the brass knob on the footboard. She studied Marjorie, her pretty blue eyes filled with a bit of uncertainty. “Do you have any work dresses?”

  Marjorie examined her trunk and put her hand on her chin. She had led a charmed life in Chicago and had very few serviceable dresses to begin with. She hadn’t thought to put any of them in her luggage when she packed so hastily. “I’m afraid not. I suppose I’ll have to make do with what I have.”

  Lilly shrugged. “I don’t mind if you wear these pretty dresses.”

  Marjorie walked the dress across the room and hung it in the large wardrobe against the wall. She put it in the back, since she would have no use for it until she reached California.

  Just thinking about the movies caused a trill of excitement to race up Marjorie’s spine, and she paused for a moment. Nothing else had brought her as much joy during the past few years as the movie theater, and she wanted to bring the same happiness into other people’s lives. If she could help them forget about their troubles, even for a little while, it would be worth all the hard work to get there.

  Lilly lifted her finger to her mouth and nibbled on her nail. “Papa might not like you in those dresses, though. I don’t think I ever saw Mama wear anything like them.”

  Marjorie’s attention returned to her task, and she took another gown out of the trunk, this one a soft muslin morning dress. She paused. “What was your mother like?”

  Lilly’s face filled with sadness and she dropped her gaze. “She was wonderful.”

  Marjorie lowered the gown and sat next to the girl. “You must miss her very much.”

  Lilly nodded but didn’t speak.

  “I’m sure she would be very proud of how you’re helping take care of Laura and Petey.”

  “Mama was very gentle and kind. She was never angry.”

  “And what of your father?”

  Lilly lifted her shoulder and toyed with a loose thread on the quilt. “Papa wasn’t home much before Mama died. He was usually gone by the time we came down for breakfast, and he often came home after Mama put us to bed.”

  “But he’s home more now?”

  Lilly nodded.

  “Do you like having him home?”

  Again, the girl nodded. “I like it very much—but I’m afraid that since you’ve come, he might go back to working as much as before.”

  “Did your mother ever ask him to stay home more?”

  “Mama always said we must never complain about how much he worked. She said he was a doctor, and doctors needed to make people well. Her father was a doctor, too, and she said it was our job to sacrifice so they could do their work.”

  Marjorie wanted to deny what the girl said. Yes, Dr. Orton had a demanding job, but his family should not have to suffer because of it.

  More than anything, Marjorie had wanted her own father present in her life when she was a child. He had always used his work as his excuse—and Mother had never pushed him to be present.

  Indignation rose in Marjorie’s gut. If Dr. Orton could make time to be home with his family now, surely he could have made time before his wife died.

  Marjorie looked off toward the window where the November landscape looked bleak against a pale blue sky. What kind of woman would Dr. Orton choose for his second wife? Would she be as compliant as the first Mrs. Orton? Would she keep quiet as he sacrificed his family? In the few minutes Marjorie had spent with him, she could tell he was authoritative and probably ruled with a stubborn set of principles—just like Marjorie’s father. He needed a woman who wouldn’t be afraid to stand up to him and tell him when he was being too rigid.

  Someone she wished her mother had been.

  But was Dr. Orton capable of finding someone like that?

  An excited bubble fluttered through Marjorie’s midsection—the same feeling she had every time she was about to undertake a new project. But this time, she wouldn’t leave the task half-completed. She would finally finish something she started. She would find a new wife for Dr. Orton—and she would make sure the woman he married was exactly who the doctor and his children needed.

  Marjorie could almost picture the lady in her mind now. She would be bold, vivacious and charming. She would stand up to the doctor when she needed to, and be an excellent mother to the children. Hopefully she was pretty and would look nice standing next to the handsome Dr. Orton—but that was a secondary concern for Marjorie.

  As soon as she had a moment, she would make a list of all the attributes Dr. Orton’s second wife should possess—and the first item on her list would be whimsical. He didn’t need a practical woman. Practical women forced their daughters into practical marriages and didn’t leave room for things like love and romance. He needed someone who would be his opposite, to balance his personality.

  Clearly Dr. Orton needed help with this important endeavor, and Marjorie was in a position to help him.

  “Don’t worry, Lilly.” Marjorie stood and lifted the muslin gown in her hands once again. She walked to the wardrobe and hung the dress inside. “I have a feeling your father will be around the house much more now that I’m here.” She would make sure of it...somehow.

  “Really?”

  “Why don’t you run along and play? I have some work to do this afternoon.”

  Lilly stood obediently and crossed the room to the door. “I like you, Miss Maren.”

  Marjorie paused and smiled. “I like you, too, Lilly.”

  A bit of Lilly’s sadness seemed to disappear. She slipped out of the room and left the door open.

  A new face peeked around the door and then disappeared just as quickly.

  Marjorie walked across the room. “Charlie?”

  After a moment, Charlie appeared in her doorway, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes lowered to the floor. “Hello, Miss Maren.”

  She hadn’t seen him since he took her bag. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  He dug his toe into the plush carpet and wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I brought you something.”

  “A gift?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Something like that.”

  “I love gifts—how did you know?”

  Again, he shrugged. “Most girls like gifts—at least my mama and Lilly do. Or did—my mama, I mean.”

  The corners of Marjorie’s mouth tipped down. She couldn’t imagine losing her mother as a child. What a horrible experience for these children to endure. Maybe, along with finding a new wife for Dr. Orton, God had brought Marjorie to this home to bring some life and enjoyment into these children’s lives. “Have you ever been to a movie theater?”

  That got his attention. Charlie looked up. “No.”

  “Would you like to go? Maybe to a matinee?” She didn’t have any money to bring them, but surely Dr. Orton would give her an allowance to spend on the children’s activities.

  Charlie’s eyes lit with excitement. “Could we?”

  Marjorie nodded. “I’ll even ask your father to come.”

  The excitement disappeared from his gaze. “He won’t take the time to come. Especially now that you’re here to take care of us, and he’s so busy with all the influenza patients.”

  Marjorie nibbled on her bottom lip. There had to be a way to get Dr. Orton to have some fun with his children. “You leave your father to me.” She offered him a smile. “Didn’t you have a gift t
o give me?”

  The tops of Charlie’s ears turned red and he brought his right hand out from behind his back. Nestled inside his palm was a dried rosebud. “My mama has a rose garden behind the house. This was from the last bush that bloomed this past summer—before she was sick. Mama and I picked the roses, and she showed me how to hang them upside down to let them dry.”

  Charlie extended his hand, and Marjorie gently took the rosebud.

  “Charlie—” Her voice caught. “This is a beautiful gift. But are you sure you want me to have it?”

  Charlie nodded. “I have others. I just thought—” He let out a breath and put his hands in his pockets. “I thought, since you didn’t know my mama, you might like to have something she loved here in the house with you.”

  Marjorie swallowed another lump of emotion. “Thank you. I will keep this on my bureau so I can look at it often. But this isn’t the only thing in the house that she loved. You, Lilly, Petey, Laura and your papa are all examples of things she loved dearly.”

  Charlie lifted his gaze and his expression softened. Without a word, he turned and left Marjorie alone.

  She stood in her doorway for a moment and fingered the delicate rosebud. It might have been plucked from life too early, but its beauty would live on—just as Anna Orton would do in her family.

  Chapter Three

  John sat in his home office and pulled a fresh sheet of paper out of his desk drawer. Now that he had secured a governess—even a temporary one—he could turn his attention to the next order of business on his to-do list: find a wife.

  He numbered the page from one to ten. Before he started his search, he would have a clear idea of what he was looking for. He was a man who liked to plan every aspect of his life and this important list would be the backbone for his quest.

  John put his pen to the page and wrote in bold letters the first thing that came to his mind: practical.

  His second wife would be practical, just as Anna had been. He pulled her portrait out of his desk and studied it, recalling all the things he loved about her. Anna’s attributes would fill numerous pieces of paper.

  But how many attributes could she have written about him? Wasn’t the picture in his hands proof of his many flaws?

  She had asked him for a family portrait after Laura was born, but he had kept putting it off, telling her he was too busy. The last picture he had of his wife, besides their wedding photo, was this one, taken just before they were married eleven years ago.

  John traced the photo with his fingertip. She had looked so young and vibrant before the cares of his medical practice and motherhood had wrinkled the edges of her eyes and created a few white hairs along her temples. Oh, how she had fussed about those hairs. But they had been a reminder to him of all her hard work and the life they were creating together. Though she had aged, she had only grown more beautiful to him.

  He just wished he had taken the time for a family photo. The children did not have a picture with their mother, and he did not have a final image of how she looked just before she was called to heaven.

  It was a harsh reminder of how he had failed his wife. He should have been home more—especially when she was sick—but he had been out of town attending a patient when Anna died.

  A knock at the office door captured his attention and he gladly put the photo back in his desk drawer. “Yes?”

  “Dinner is served,” Mrs. Gohl said. “The children and Miss Maren are seated.”

  John put aside his list for now and pushed himself up from his desk chair with a heavy sigh.

  Miss Maren was not what he had planned. But it appeared he was stuck with her—at least for the next two months.

  John stepped out of his office and found Mrs. Gohl waiting for him.

  “Dr. McCall phoned and said they had half a dozen new cases of influenza arrive at the hospital since last night.” Mrs. Gohl wrung her work-worn hands together. Though the wave of illnesses had subsided from the initial impact that had arrived at the beginning of October—and taken Anna’s life—there were still more cases reported every day. “He asked if you could go to the hospital after supper to consult with him.”

  It would be another long night. He would have to put off his list making until he returned home. Maybe tomorrow at church he could start the search. He really had no idea what his prospects were, since he had not considered another woman since he had laid eyes on Anna for the first time.

  John nodded his thanks to Mrs. Gohl and then walked through the front hall to the dining room.

  Miss Maren sat at Anna’s regular spot.

  John paused in the doorway, his stunned gaze riveted on her. “What are you wearing, Miss Maren?”

  The governess held Laura on her lap and moved the baby aside to look down at her luxurious dress. She glanced back at John, innocence in her gaze. “It’s just a simple evening gown.”

  The dress in question was definitely not simple. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too fancy for a quiet family meal?”

  Lilly hid a giggle behind her hand, and Charlie opened his mouth to comment—but John silenced both of them with a look.

  “It’s all I have,” said Miss Maren.

  “You have nothing less...ostentatious?” Or attractive?

  She shook her head. Laura reached for the silverware, and Miss Maren gently pulled her hand away. “This is what I wore for meals at home.”

  He cleared his throat, trying to avert his eyes from the beautiful woman seated at his table. “Meals in this home are much less formal.” He took his seat and Petey jumped off his chair and ran around the table. John lifted the boy into his arms while he addressed Miss Maren. “I must ask you to put on something more...suitable.”

  Miss Maren’s free hand slipped up to her neck and hovered over the exposed skin. “I only have one other evening gown—and it’s not much different.”

  “She’s right,” Lilly said. “I saw her dresses.”

  He ran his finger around his collar, suddenly feeling a bit awkward having this conversation. He tried not to stare as he lifted his hand and indicated her dress. “Surely you have something else you could wear.”

  “I suppose I could put on one of my morning gowns—but it’s hardly the thing to wear for sup—”

  “Does it show so much skin?” His voice sounded much gruffer than he intended.

  She had the decency to blush.

  Miss Ernst entered the dining room with a steaming tureen of tomato soup and must have sensed the tension in the room. Her green eyes darted to Miss Maren and then back to John. Red hair stuck out in disarray behind her white maid’s cap, and a spot of soup stained her apron.

  “It will take me a moment to change,” said Miss Maren.

  “We’ll wait.”

  Miss Ernst set the soup on the sideboard just as Miss Maren stood and handed the baby to her.

  Miss Maren exited the room and John couldn’t help watching her leave.

  No one said a word until she returned ten minutes later in a modest gown—though this one was made of a gauzy material, and just as impractical as the first. She took Laura from the maid’s hands and sat quietly in her seat.

  John said grace and then Miss Ernst ladled the soup into everyone’s bowls. The savory scent spiraled into the air making John’s stomach growl.

  They ate in silence for a few moments, and then Miss Maren spoke. “Lilly has been a great help today with Petey and Laura.”

  John looked at his eight-year-old daughter, always the mother of the group, especially since Anna had died. “Thank you, Lilly. Did you show her how to make Laura’s bottles as I instructed with the infant formula?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Good.” John smiled approval at his daughter. “But I expect Miss Maren to do the work from here on out.”

&nb
sp; Lilly nodded.

  John handed Petey a dinner roll and then dipped his spoon into his soup.

  Miss Maren spoke again. “I’d like to have a party.”

  John’s spoon fell into his soup, splashing the white tablecloth with the red liquid. “A what?”

  Miss Maren lifted her spoon to her lips and sipped on her soup. When she was done she offered him a dimpled smile. “A tea party.”

  “Why?”

  “I’d like to see the prospects.”

  Charlie and Lilly looked between John and Miss Maren, their interested gazes never dropping.

  John frowned at the strange woman. “What prospects?”

  Miss Maren opened her mouth and then closed it again, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. Finally she pulled Laura’s hand away from the silverware again and spoke. “I’d like to make some friends. I thought I would host a tea party to do so.”

  The older children swiveled their gazes to John.

  “I don’t have much experience with governesses,” John said. “But I’ve never heard of one hosting a tea party.”

  Miss Maren lifted her free hand with an air of nonchalance. “There’s always a first for everything.”

  “I didn’t employ a socialite. I employed a governess. Your first priority is not to entertain—but to take care of my children.”

  “I would never neglect my duties, if that’s what you mean. I will host the party on my day off—I do get a day off, don’t I?”

  “Of course. Sundays.”

  “Then I will plan the party for next Sunday. May I use the parlor?”

  Petey squirmed in John’s lap, and John put his hand on his son’s knee to steady him. “I still haven’t decided if you should have the party.”

  The children looked at Miss Maren.

  “It would be an educational opportunity for Lilly,” the governess said. “What better way to teach her social graces? You do want her to learn how to be a hostess someday, don’t you?”