A Mother in the Making

by Gabrielle Meyer

  “I can’t.” She shook her head, a hiccup escaping her mouth. “I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

  “What are your other options?” John pulled away from her and offered her a little space. “You must do what you’re called to do.”

  She wiped at her cheeks and bit her trembling lip. “I’m considering something drastic.”

  “It’s never a good idea to make a drastic decision when we’re upset.”

  “I’m thinking about offering up—” She began to cry again.

  “Shh.” John tried to soothe her. “Winnie, I promise, everything will work out.”

  “I’m thinking about giving some of my children up for adoption.”

  “Adoption? You’re not thinking straight.”

  “But how will I provide for them? I have no means of income. My only option is to marry again, but who would want to marry a bereaved woman with five or six children, all under the age of four?” She stared at him, her face splotched and swollen.

  John sat up straight. If Anna was still alive, she’d insist they help Winnie, and he liked to think that Calvin would have helped Anna in the same situation. But how?

  “Will you help me, John?” Winnie reached out and took his hands. “I’m desperate. I can’t go through this alone.”

  “Is there anyone?”

  “Anyone to do what?”

  He lifted a shoulder. This was an uncomfortable conversation to have with a friend. If she had been a stranger, perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard. He pulled his hands out of her grasp and stood. “Is there anyone who might...?”

  “Marry me?” She also stood. “Who? The war, and now the influenza pandemic, has left no family untouched.” She wadded up the handkerchief. “I would not dream of being so presumptuous to ask...and it embarrasses me to even admit why I came here...”

  She wanted John to marry her.

  He took a step back and bumped into the desk. The list he had made earlier was still facedown, waiting for his attention. Winnie fit most of the criteria on the list, if not all—but she was Anna’s friend, his friend—and she had four children to care for, more on the way. She was clearly overwhelmed with her responsibilities and her grief. Could she be a stable mother for his children?

  Charlie, Lilly, Petey and Laura were John’s first concern. He needed a woman who would love them like Anna had.

  Was it Winnie?

  “Winnie—”

  “Don’t say no right away.” She had stopped crying and was now looking at him with an intense gaze. “Please think about it, for me—for Calvin and Anna.”

  What was the harm in thinking about her as a prospect? Before Calvin had died, Winnie was a happy young woman who was quick to laugh and offer help where needed. Maybe, when her grief subsided, she could be the mother his children needed.

  Maybe.

  “Would you and the children like to come for supper this week?” It was the very least he could do for an old friend. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

  Her shoulders loosened, and she let out a long breath. “Thank you. We would love to come.”

  “Wednesday night?”

  She dabbed at her cheeks again, her hands shaking, and suddenly looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry about all this—”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “You don’t need to be sorry, Winnie. We’re friends. I’m happy you came to me.”

  She put one hand on his and offered him the faintest smile. “Thank you, John. I knew if anyone could understand, it would be you. I look forward to Wednesday.”

  He nodded and opened the door for her. “Me, too.”

  She walked down the hall toward the waiting room and looked over her shoulder one last time before he stepped back into his office.

  He closed the door and stood for a moment. It wasn’t enough that he was grieving his own loss, and treating dozens of patients who were dying every day, but he was also grieving the loss of friends.

  He walked back to his desk and turned the sheet of paper over. Winnie might fit the criteria, but could he marry her? He would share a meal with her and get to know her better before making a final decision. If he didn’t marry her, he would have to find some other way to help.

  Miss Maren’s smiling face suddenly appeared in his mind, and for some reason he couldn’t identify, he was eager to get home and see her. Was it because he was worried she couldn’t handle his four children, or was it because he longed for her cheery disposition right about now?

  He surmised it was the former. Of course.

  * * *

  “You’re sure she isn’t married?” Marjorie put Laura on her other hip and leaned down to ask Lilly, “That one, over there?”

  Lilly looked across the mercantile and nodded vigorously. “That’s Miss Baker. She teaches Sunday school at church.”

  After picking the two older children up from school, Marjorie had brought them downtown to see if she could spot anyone who might make a good bride for the doctor. She and Lilly had extended half a dozen invitations to their tea party in just an hour—and they were about to extend another.

  Marjorie straightened and peered around the display of ladies’ handkerchiefs. The woman in question was perusing a rack of sheet music, flipping through the songs in quick order. She wore a trim black coat and a jaunty purple hat, tilted just so on her brown curls.

  Miss Baker must have sensed Marjorie’s gaze, because she suddenly looked her way.

  Marjorie smiled and took her cue to approach. “Come, Lilly, I’d like you to introduce me.”

  Laura chewed on her bonnet strings, drool dripping down her chin and over the fist holding the strings, while Lilly walked beside Marjorie, her navy blue sailor coat and hat complementing her pretty blue eyes. Charlie had Petey in the corner of the store looking at a display of toy airplanes.

  “Hello, Miss Baker,” Lilly said as they approached.

  Miss Baker offered Lilly a smile, her whole face lighting with the gesture. She put her hand on Lilly’s shoulder. “Hello, Lilly. Have you heard the war is over?”

  Lilly nodded, a grin on her face, and looked up at Marjorie. “This is Miss Maren, my new governess.”

  Marjorie extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Marjorie Maren.”

  Miss Baker shook Marjorie’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I saw you in church on Sunday.” She laughed, and the sound made Marjorie warm to the young lady. “I saw you nodding off and I was jealous! Once, I came home with a black-and-blue mark from where my mother pinched me when I fell asleep in church, and I’ve never done it again.”

  “I think Papa would have pinched Miss Maren, too, if he was close enough.” Lilly joined in the laughter.

  Marjorie wasn’t inclined to laugh with them, though she offered a complimentary smile. She still hadn’t slept well since coming to the Ortons’ and was barely standing upright at the moment. This was their last stop before going home and she wanted to be done with the chore. “We’re going to have a tea party this Sunday after church and would like for you to join us.”

  Miss Baker clasped her hands. “Oh, that sounds lovely. I’ve always wanted to see inside Dr. Orton’s home.” She leaned closer to Marjorie and put up her hand to shield Lilly from her next words. “I feel so terrible about his wife. It must be awfully sad there. What I wouldn’t give to bring a little joy into their lives right about now.”

  Marjorie glanced at Lilly and found the girl quietly watching them, though she didn’t ask Marjorie what was said.

  “I do hope you can come to the party,” Marjorie said to Miss Baker. “Three o’clock.”

  Miss Baker nodded and pinched Laura’s cheek. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Now we must be off.” Marjorie shifted Laura into her other arm, surprised at how
tired her arms felt from holding the little girl. “Come, Lilly.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Miss Maren,” Miss Baker called out in a singsong voice.

  “And you, too.” Marjorie walked over to the boys and tapped Charlie on the shoulder. “It’s time to leave.”

  Charlie stood straight, but Petey didn’t look at Marjorie. He continued to fly the plane, making a motor sound with his lips.

  “Petey, it’s time to leave,” Marjorie said. “Please put the airplane down.”

  He lifted the plane high in the air and then dipped it low, acting as if he didn’t hear her.

  Charlie and Lilly both watched Marjorie.

  She would not be with this family long, but she owed it to Dr. Orton, and his future wife, to discipline the child. But how did you get a child to listen and obey?

  Marjorie squatted down to be eye level with the little boy and tapped him on the shoulder.

  He turned to look at Marjorie, his airplane coming in for a landing.

  “Do you like airplanes?”

  Petey nodded.

  “Have you ever seen a real one? In the air?”

  He shook his head.

  “I have, when I lived in Chicago. It was flown by a pilot named Glenn Curtiss. I even went up in the airplane for a ride with him.”

  Petey’s eyes grew wide. “Really?”

  Marjorie nodded. “I’ll tell you all about it tonight when I put you to bed, all right? But now it’s time to go home, so you need to put the airplane back on the shelf for the next little boy who wants to look at it.”

  Petey hesitated for a moment and Marjorie sent up a quick prayer, hoping he would obey, because she had no other ideas.

  He placed the tin airplane on the shelf and then stood.

  Marjorie sighed with relief and pulled herself up, not an easy task with Laura in her arms. She led the little group out of the mercantile, the bell over the door jingling as they walked through.

  A festive air filled the streets. The signing of the armistice in France was a boost for the community’s morale.

  “Didn’t you need to buy something in there?” Lilly asked.

  Marjorie readjusted the bonnet on Laura’s head to protect her from the cold air. “Not today.”

  “But you didn’t buy anything at the millinery, the cobbler’s, the dress shop or the mercantile.”

  “I’m just looking over the selection before I make a final choice.” Marjorie smiled, tickled that she had told the truth, if somewhat evasively.

  Large snowflakes fell gently from the sky, like little feathers from heaven. They landed on their hats and shoulders, and the three older children opened their mouths to try to catch them on their tongues.

  The children must have sensed the lighter mood about town. They laughed as they ran around chasing the flakes, their feet leaving prints in the fresh snow gathered on the sidewalk. Tall storefronts stood on either side of Main Street, and green streetlamps dotted the idyllic downtown. More than one person stopped to watch the children, though not everyone smiled along with Marjorie. Some of the older women looked downright mortified by the children’s behavior.

  Marjorie considered stopping them—but she remembered the joys and wonders of childhood, and didn’t think it would hurt to let them revel in a carefree moment.

  “Are those Dr. Orton’s children?” One lady stopped by Marjorie’s side and squinted at the trio. “No...they couldn’t be.”

  Marjorie didn’t know if she should bother to answer, but when the woman turned her beady glare on Marjorie, she didn’t have a choice. “Yes, they are.”

  The older woman put her hand over her bosom. “Haven’t you heard the old adage children should be seen and not heard?”

  It was one of Marjorie’s least favorite sayings—something her parents had said to her all the time while growing up. “I have.”

  “Well?” The lady lifted her eyebrows. “Why can I hear them?”

  Charlie and Lilly stopped, but Petey continued to dance in circles, his face tilted to the sky, laughing and blinking as snowflakes landed on his eyelashes and cheeks.

  “You can hear them because they’re having fun.” Marjorie lifted her own face to the sky and opened her mouth. A frosty snowflake landed on her tongue and promptly melted. She looked back at the matron and grinned. “You should try it some time.”

  The lady stared at Marjorie as if she had grown three heads, but she didn’t say a word.

  “Come, children.” Marjorie extended her hand to Petey. “Supper will be ready soon and your father should be coming home.”

  Petey stopped twirling and stared at Marjorie’s proffered hand, and then he looked up into her face. His soulful eyes studied Marjorie, and he must have found her lacking, because he slipped his hand inside Lilly’s and hid his face against his sister’s sleeve.

  Marjorie stood up straighter and started walking home. She couldn’t force Petey to like her...but she wouldn’t give up trying.

  “Papa’s not going to like that,” Charlie said as he glanced at Marjorie.

  “What?”

  The boy pointed over his shoulder. “That was Mrs. Kingston.”

  “It’s not polite to point, Charlie—and who is Mrs. Kingston?”

  “The mayor’s wife.”

  Marjorie quickly glanced over her shoulder. The lady still stood next to the mercantile, her perturbed gaze following Marjorie’s retreat.

  “He’ll probably hear about this before we get home.” Charlie sighed and offered Marjorie a shake of his head. “Papa doesn’t like to be talked about, especially by Mrs. Kingston, because she tells everyone everything.”

  “I heard Mama say that if Mrs. Kingston didn’t like you, then no one would like you,” Lilly added.

  Marjorie frowned. “Really?”

  “Really.” Lilly’s mouth turned down at the corners. “No one will come to our tea party now.”

  “Because of her?” Marjorie pointed over her shoulder—recalling what she had said to Charlie just a moment ago—and then promptly put her hand by her side. How was she to ever teach these children proper manners when she didn’t display them herself? “I don’t think we have anything to worry about. She’s only one person.”

  Lilly and Charlie shared a glance. “But she knows everyone in town,” Charlie said.

  Marjorie was beginning to realize she didn’t know the first thing about small-town life.

  Chapter Five

  John stalled the engine of his Model T and opened his door, grabbing his medical bag as he exited the vehicle. He kept his gaze on his home as he strode up the fieldstone path, through Anna’s dormant rose garden and onto the back stoop.

  No doubt Miss Maren would have the children seated at the dining table, awaiting his arrival. He had told her he would be home at six o’clock, and it was now ten minutes past the hour.

  His discussion with her would have to wait until after supper ended. The dining room, with four children listening, would not be the best place.

  He stomped the snow and mud off his shoes and pushed open the heavy oak door, shaking snowflakes from his hat and coat as he passed into the back hall.

  The aroma of pot roast and simmering root vegetables greeted him upon arrival. He paused for a moment to inhale a whiff of the delicious scents. If his nose didn’t deceive him, there would also be spiced cake for dessert. His favorite.

  John set his medical bag on the back hall table and then paused. A strange sound filled his ears. It was a combination of thumping and grinding, followed by...laughter. Children’s laughter—and Miss Maren’s.

  He took off his overcoat and set it on the hook next to his fedora.

  “I won,” called Lilly.

  “You didn’t beat me,” Charlie said. “I won, just like last
time.”

  Lilly’s joyful laughter seeped through the door. “You’re a sore loser, Charlie. Don’t you like to be beat by a girl?”

  “Let’s go again.”

  How long had it been since he’d heard his children sound so carefree? He paused, reveling in the moment, and yet—it didn’t quite seem right to be so happy with Anna gone.

  “All right, children,” Miss Maren said. “On your mark, get set...go!”

  The same thumping resumed, this time coming closer to the back hall, and then moving farther away.

  What in the world?

  John opened the door and stopped short.

  Miss Maren stood near the front door in a filmy pink gown, her blond curls piled high on her head. Her cheeks were rosy red and her green eyes shone.

  She saw him standing in the doorway and grinned, the ever-present dimples gracing him with their appearance. “Hello, Dr. Orton.”

  Lilly and Charlie halted on their trek down the front hall in their roller skates and sheepishly turned to look his way.

  “Hello, Papa,” Lilly said with a squeak.

  Mrs. Gohl stood just inside the dining room, a smile on her face. The moment John looked at her, the smile dropped and she scurried off to the kitchen.

  “Miss Maren—” He couldn’t find the right words to convey his astonishment. What had she been thinking? The children had a nursery filled with toys—why were they scuffing up the front hall with their roller skates?

  “They should sleep well tonight,” Miss Maren said, a triumphant look on her face. She cocked a wry eyebrow. “I wish I could say the same for Laura.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” John finally demanded. “Why are my children riding roller skates in the house?”

  Miss Maren looked toward the window and waved her hand. “Because it’s snowing outside.”

  “I know it’s snowing outside—but what does that have to do with my children roller-skating inside?”

  “Surely you wouldn’t want them roller skating outside right now, would you?”