A Mother in the Making

by Gabrielle Meyer

  The maid hesitated. “Yes, she is, but—”

  Marjorie let out a relieved breath and lifted the card toward the maid once again. “Good. Please tell her Miss Marjorie Maren is here to call.”

  “But—”

  “Tell her I am the Ortons’ governess. I think she’ll want to see me.” Marjorie swallowed hard before she uttered the next words. “Tell her I’ve come to apologize for my rude behavior.”

  The maid looked over Marjorie and the children shivering in the cold. She finally took the card. “Won’t you step into the foyer? I’ll see if Mrs. Kingston will receive you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Marjorie led the children inside and was duly impressed with the interior. A wide oak stairway ascended to their left, and a little alcove sat just in front of it with a built-in bench. Two generous archways displayed a lavish front parlor and a richly appointed dining room.

  “You may have a seat.” The maid indicated the bench and then looked at Marjorie’s card before disappearing up the stairway.

  Petey toyed with his airplane while Laura grabbed at Marjorie’s bonnet. She managed to remove a silk flower and Marjorie allowed her to gum it. At least the baby was occupied.

  It felt as if an hour passed, but the hall clock claimed it was only twenty minutes before Mrs. Kingston descended the stairs in a beautiful morning gown. She took her time, placing one slippered foot in front of the other, gliding her hand along the banister in what appeared to be a deliberate act of disdain.

  Marjorie wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she stood and took a deep breath, pasting a smile on her face.

  The woman finally stopped in the foyer. “I don’t receive callers on Tuesdays, but I’m making an exception, because I believe you have something very important to say to me.”

  “It’s so good of you to see me now. I hope this isn’t an inconvenient time.”

  “Of course it is.” Mrs. Kingston looked down her thin nose at Marjorie. “It isn’t Friday.”

  Marjorie managed to look repentant, though she didn’t feel apologetic. She might as well get this over with. “I’m here to apologize for my terrible behavior yesterday.”

  Mrs. Kingston lifted one eyebrow. “Go on.”

  Marjorie had practiced this little speech all the way over from the mercantile, but perhaps she should have practiced it even longer. Suddenly, looking at the conceited face of Mrs. Kingston made her forget everything she had planned to say.

  She wished she could tell her that she had been engaged to Preston Chamberlain, the heir to one of the largest railroad fortunes in the country. Maybe that would impress the mayor’s wife—but what would it matter now? Marjorie refused to use Preston’s name—or draw attention to the past.

  “I do hope you’ll accept my apology. I’m sorry I spoke to you in such a manner, and I’m sorry the children’s behavior displeased you.”

  “Did Dr. Orton request this meeting?” Mrs. Kingston asked.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “It wasn’t your idea to come on your own?”

  Marjorie swallowed once again as Laura’s drool dripped from her chin and landed on Marjorie’s bare wrist. “It was also my idea. As soon as I realized my mistake, I knew I needed to make amends. I do hope you won’t hold any ill will toward Dr. Orton’s family.”

  “Will you allow the children to be so disruptive in the future?”

  The children hadn’t been disruptive, not in the least. They were just being children. Marjorie wanted to tell Mrs. Kingston this, but she recalled Dr. Orton’s words. Her tea party must be a success for Lilly and for Dr. Orton. She dipped her head, as any good actress would do in such a scene, and spoke in a remorseful voice. “Of course not.”

  “Very well.” Mrs. Kingston lifted a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her upper lip, as if the ordeal of this conversation had caused perspiration. “I will forgive this blunder, but only because the doctor’s children are grieving, and are not in their right mind.” She lifted the confounded eyebrow once again. “You, however, have no excuse.”

  Marjorie was grieving, in her own way, being ostracized by her parents—but she would never reveal this to Mrs. Kingston. “You’re right. There is no excuse for me.” Marjorie hated every single word she spoke, but she had no choice. She must pander to this society matriarch for the success of her plans. “Please forgive me.”

  Mrs. Kingston dipped her head. “You’re forgiven. But I will be watching you closely, Miss Maren. I’m aware that you have a tea party planned for Sunday afternoon, and you’ve invited a number of prominent women to Dr. Orton’s home. Anyone who enters into the upper echelons of my society will be expected to behave properly. See that you do.”

  Marjorie ground her teeth and nodded. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” She put her hand on Petey’s shoulder. “I need to get the children home for their morning nap.”

  Mrs. Kingston took a step back and rang a bell on top of a hall table.

  The maid appeared immediately and opened the front door for Marjorie and the children.

  “I have high expectations from you, Miss Maren. See that you don’t act so foolishly in the future.”

  Marjorie turned and offered a drippy-sweet smile. “I’ll endeavor to do my best. Goodbye.”

  She walked out of the house, her head high, with Petey beside her. She disliked when other people brought out the worst in her.

  “Now that this distasteful task is done, I will turn my full attention to the tea party once again,” Marjorie said to Petey, who didn’t bother to acknowledge her. “There is so much to be done.”

  They walked the five blocks back to the Orton home in silence. Laura fell asleep on Marjorie’s shoulder and Petey plodded along, inspecting every inch of his tin airplane. The sun shone bright in a cloudless sky and though it was still chilly, the streets and walkways had melted, creating mud.

  “It looks like your father is home,” Marjorie said to Petey when she spotted the doctor’s Model T next to the carriage house. “I hope he’s resting.”

  “Papa!” Petey raced down the sidewalk and quickly climbed up the front steps.

  Marjorie picked up her pace to catch him, not wanting the boy to barge in on his father and wake him up. “Petey,” she called, but he was already stepping through the door.

  Marjorie placed her hand on Laura’s back to keep her upright, and then ran the last few feet across the yard. The mud beneath her feet became slippery and before she could right herself, she slid to the ground, hitting her bottom hard against the cold mud.

  Laura woke, startled, and let out a whimper.

  The front door opened wider and Dr. Orton appeared, Petey at his side. His concerned gaze swept over Marjorie and he strode across the front porch, down the stairs, and arrived at Marjorie in two seconds. “Are you all right?”

  Her backside stung and one of her best dresses was probably ruined, but other than that, it was only her pride that hurt. Heat filled her cheeks and she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I think so.”

  “Here, let me take Laura.” He reached down and took the baby from Marjorie’s arms, quickly examining the child. “She appears to be fine.”

  Mrs. Gohl arrived at the front door and came down and took Laura from Dr. Orton. She ushered Laura and Petey into the house, leaving Dr. Orton with Marjorie.

  He extended a hand toward her, and she finally glanced up into his worried face. She would much rather he leave her to walk the path of shame on her own, but it didn’t look like he was going anywhere.

  She put her gloved hand into his and allowed him to tug her to her feet. Cold fabric clung to her legs, and mud dripped from her skirt. “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Do you hurt?”

>   She couldn’t lie. “A bit.”

  He placed his hand on the small of her back and probed her muscles. “Did you jar anything out of place?”

  His gentle hand ran up the length of her spine. Though his touch was purely platonic, it sent a warm sensation through Marjorie and she abruptly stepped away from him.

  “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. Nothing a bath and a change of clothes won’t fix.”

  He studied her for another moment, though she couldn’t discern his thoughts. “I’m happy you’re here. I’m going to the hospital again and wanted to let you know I am having a dinner guest tomorrow night. She will be bringing along her four children—I hope you’ll entertain them and see that they are fed.”

  “She?” Marjorie temporarily forgot about her muddy clothing—or the fact that he was returning to the hospital again.

  Dr. Orton stood a bit straighter. “Yes, Mrs. Winifred Jensen. She is an old family friend.”

  Was the doctor considering her for a wife? And, if so, would she fit the criteria Marjorie had listed for him? “Yes, I can see to the children.”

  She would see to Mrs. Jensen, as well.

  * * *

  John stood in his bedroom, staring at his reflection in his floor-length mirror. Why was he taking such pains to dress for dinner tonight? He had known Winnie Jensen for years and had never once thought about his appearance in her presence.

  But tonight was different. Tonight he would interview her for the position of mother to his children. The thought still made his insides twist in grief and disbelief. No doubt Winnie was feeling the same way. Neither one of them would have chosen this course. It had been thrust upon them without consultation or permission.

  John had accepted Anna’s death as God’s will—after all, he was a physician and was familiar with loss—but it still hurt and he had moments of anger when he wanted to demand an answer—yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak to God. Not yet.

  He unwound his necktie and tossed it onto his bed. It wasn’t quite right for this evening. He opened his drawer and lifted another one out, inhaling the scent of Anna’s lavender sachet from the drawer beneath his.

  Anna’s touch was still present in their bedroom. John could see her in the billowy curtains at the large windows, the hand-quilted spread on the bed and the woven rugs on the floor. Her clothes still hung in the wardrobe and her reading glasses—which she despised—were on the Bible next to her side of the bed. Would his second wife demand that he box all of Anna’s things up and bring them to the attic?

  If the children didn’t need a mother, he would never conceive of such a plan. He had considered allowing a governess to raise them—not Miss Maren, but someone with more experience. In the end, he had concluded they needed a permanent woman in their lives. And what was more permanent than marriage?

  “Dr. Orton?”

  John’s bedroom door was ajar and he turned to find Miss Maren standing in the hall. “Yes?”

  “May I have a word with you please?”

  He had hoped to speak with her about the letter he had received from his mother just that morning, but now wasn’t a good time. It had been filled with gossip about life in Chicago, and news about John’s brother, Paul, and his new wife, Josephine. But the letter had been strangely empty about Miss Maren until the very end. Mother had simply said: “I hope you’re finding Marjorie to your liking. I knew her joyful disposition would be good for you and the children at this time. Please send her my best.”

  He had hoped for more information about the young woman, and had specifically written to his mother to ask what she knew—but she had chosen to give nothing away. Why?

  He grabbed his suit coat and slipped it on over his shirtsleeves and then stepped out of his room. The discussion about Miss Maren’s past would have to wait for a more opportune time.

  Miss Maren took several steps back, so she was standing closer to the stairwell than his bedroom.

  He closed his door and joined her. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.” Winnie would be arriving shortly and he needed to finish getting ready. “What can I do for you? Is it the children?”

  Miss Maren wore another elaborate gown. This one was a soft creamy color with lace lapels and a short train. Her curls were pulled back in a loose knot and she wore a pearl headband. She looked as if she were prepared to join him for supper—yet she was going to take care of eight children this evening. How she would manage in such an outfit was something John would enjoy watching.

  Actually the thought of watching her do anything was appealing.

  “I would like to talk to you about Mrs. Jensen.”

  John pulled his thoughts off their ridiculous course and remembered that this woman was his children’s governess. Their temporary governess. “Oh?”

  She wove her fingers together and placed her hands in front of her waist. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous—”

  “But you will be.” John repositioned his stance and crossed his arms.

  She lifted her chin in a way he was coming to recognize as defiance. “I feel I’ve spent enough time with your family to advise you.”

  He leaned forward. “Oh, really?”

  “I don’t want you to make a mistake.”

  A mistake? With Winnie? “Miss Maren, you have been in my house for precisely five days. I don’t believe you’re in a position to advise me about a woman you’ve never met.”

  “I don’t intend to advise you about Mrs. Jensen, per se. I hope to advise you about women in general.”

  “I was married for eleven years. I hardly need advice about the opposite sex. You, on the other hand, have never been married.”

  “But I’m a woman—doesn’t that qualify me to give advice?”

  “In this particular situation? No.”

  “Things have changed in eleven years, and not all women are like your first wife. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

  He’d had enough of this conversation. “You’re presuming I don’t know what I’m doing, and your assumption is insulting. Winnie is a good friend and she is a good mother. I will make the best decision for me and my children, regardless of your opinion.” He straightened and repositioned his coat. “You will be leaving us in less than two months, so I don’t believe you have much say in what I do.”

  She unclasped her hands and lifted her chin even higher. “I just hope you don’t make a grave mistake. A lifetime seems even longer when you’re wrong.”

  “Miss Maren, save your dramatic performance for the stage—”

  “Screen.”

  “This is real life and I intend to deal with it accordingly.”

  “But what if you make a mistake? You and the children will be even more miserable than you are now.”

  “This conversation is over. Please retrieve the children and bring them to the foyer. It’s almost six o’clock and Winnie is always prompt.”

  She exhaled a breath and then offered a brief nod. She spun on her heels and walked toward the other end of the hall and the third-floor stairway. She opened the door and the children’s voices trailed down from the day nursery.

  He ground his teeth and shoved his bedroom door open. Who was she to think she could give him advice about marriage? She was young and naive and didn’t know the first thing about raising a family. Over the past five days, she had shown herself competent with the children—much to his surprise—but that didn’t give her the license to intrude on his personal life.

  John lifted the ends of his necktie and tied it tight, surprised at how Miss Maren’s words had affected him. He understood, more than anyone, what he was planning to do. He would legally, and in the eyes of the church, bind himself to another woman for the rest of his life. Even after the children were grown and gone, his new wife would still be by his side.


  He would not make a hasty decision.

  For the first time since Anna’s death, he longed to be on speaking terms with God. He needed to vent his frustrations and ask for guidance. What if he did make a mistake and they were more miserable? It was entirely possible that his good intentions could backfire.

  He walked to the window and glanced out at the bleak world. His bedroom faced west and looked out at the buildings forming downtown Little Falls. The tall courthouse tower was visible over the leafless branches and the spire of St. Mary’s Church reached toward the heavens just to the left. The Mississippi River cut through the cold earth, like a steel ribbon.

  For some reason, John felt closer to God when he could look out his window at the sky. He swallowed his pain and spoke from a raw place in his heart. “I’m having a hard time understanding why You’ve allowed all this to happen, but I’m choosing to believe You at Your word. I know You have a purpose, even if I never fully understand what it is.” He rubbed his face and closed his eyes. “Please help me make the right choice. Please guide me in this important decision. I want what’s best for my children. Amen.”

  It wasn’t grand or eloquent, but it was real and heartfelt. And it was a beginning.

  Chapter Seven

  John entered the front foyer and found Miss Maren standing at attention with Laura in her arms. Charlie, Lilly and Petey stood like little soldiers about to get their marching orders. Gone was the gentle teasing and lively conversation they had been enjoying with Miss Maren for the past few days.

  John smoothed back his hair and adjusted his tie one last time. The hall clock said it was five minutes to six. Outside the windows, the sky had begun to darken, with only a hint of light in the west.

  “All of you look very nice this evening,” John said to his children. “I hope you’ll make me proud and be on your best behavior.”

  Charlie looked at John with accusation. “You’re not thinking of marrying Mrs. Jensen, are you?”

  Lilly turned to John, the blue bow in her hair matching her startled eyes. “You’re going to get married?”