A Mother in the Making

by Gabrielle Meyer

Marjorie leaned back, surprised at the force of his anger.

  He left the room, throwing his napkin on the sideboard as he exited.

  Marjorie straightened her back and followed him through the hall.

  He closed the door and didn’t wait for her to sit. “Who are you to defy my orders and assume you can influence my choices?”

  “I was up in that nursery with eight children, four of whom were upset.”

  “That is your job. I am paying you to take care of my children—and children of guests in my home.”

  “I didn’t think it right for you to consider marriage to a woman without knowing what life would be like.”

  “Again.” He took a step closer to her. “That is not your concern.”

  She took a step toward him. The tips of their shoes were now touching. “It is when I have discovered that Mrs. Jensen intends for Charlie and Lilly to take care of her children if she marries you.”

  Dr. Orton paused and a bit of his bluster died away. “Who told you such a thing?”

  “Isaac Jensen.”

  “He is only a child.”

  “But why would he say something like that, if he hadn’t heard it from his mother?”

  Dr. Orton didn’t have a quick response. He stepped away from Marjorie and went to the mantel where Anna’s portrait sat. He stared at the picture.

  “My children have already been through so much,” Dr. Orton said, almost to himself. “I do not want them raising someone else’s children, too. There has to be a better way to help Winnie.”

  A thrill of pleasure raced through Marjorie. Dr. Orton would not marry Mrs. Jensen, she just knew it.

  But why the pleasure? Was it because Marjorie had succeeded in helping him see the truth about the situation? Or was it some other reason she couldn’t identify?

  Dr. Orton turned away from the photo and studied Marjorie for a moment.

  She glanced down at her dress and found the waistline to be askew and blotches of drool on her shoulders. She touched her hair and discovered it was lopsided, with pins coming out on the side. “I must look a fright.”

  He didn’t say a word but merely swallowed and walked around her to open the door.

  She exited his office and went into the dining room.

  Mrs. Jensen’s mouth was pulled taut and her eyes were red, as if she had been crying. Petey had his airplane back in his hands, but Isaiah was now in tears. Charlie was chewing on a dinner roll, his face grim, and Lilly was lecturing Isaac. One of the twin girls was pulling the sideboard drawers open, digging inside, while the other was on her mother’s lap playing with Mrs. Jensen’s necklace. Miss Ernst still held Laura in her arms, looking as helpless and frightened as a cornered animal.

  “Miss Maren.” Dr. Orton touched her elbow to gain her attention and then quickly pulled his hand back. “Please help Miss Ernst bring in the children’s supper, and as soon as they are finished, return them to the third-floor nursery.” He went to Miss Ernst and took Laura out of her hands, his face as grim as Charlie’s. “We will let Mrs. Jensen enjoy an evening to relax.”

  Marjorie righted her hair as she stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

  With one look at the distraught Mrs. Jensen, Marjorie didn’t feel as triumphant as she had hoped.

  Chapter Eight

  Marjorie stood near the refreshment table in the Orton’s front parlor and smiled while she watched Lilly. The young girl’s eyes shone and her cheeks were filled with color as she went from guest to guest, talking like a grown-up and offering more finger sandwiches.

  “The party is a success,” Dora said as she came beside Marjorie.

  “If Lilly is happy, then I call it a great success,” Marjorie agreed.

  Dora held a glass of punch in her gloved hand. “It does my heart good to see how much she admires you.” She took a sip of her drink. “Anna would be so happy.”

  Marjorie couldn’t deny the pleasure Dora’s words brought to her heart. “I wish I had known Anna.”

  Dora’s blue eyes softened even more, if that were possible. “You get a glimpse of her in each of the children. She lives on in Lilly’s graciousness, in Charlie’s giving heart, in Petey’s quiet stubbornness and in Laura’s gentle charm. I even see her in John’s selfless commitment to medicine. Anna was the one who enabled him to build his practice and made his stellar reputation what it is today.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can, in the short time I’m here, to make sure her legacy lives on in the things she loved and the people she cared about.”

  “That’s why I like you, Miss Maren,” Dora said. “I know that you truly care about Anna’s children.”

  “Please, call me Marjorie.”

  Dora squeezed Marjorie’s forearm. “Good. And you must call me Dora.”

  “I will.”

  Dora and Marjorie both looked toward the archway leading to the front hall where Dr. Orton had just entered.

  A warm flutter rushed through Marjorie at his unexpected presence, taking her by surprise. When had her barely concealed tolerance turned to pleasure? “I thought Dr. Orton would be at the hospital all afternoon.”

  Dora took another sip of her punch and watched Dr. Orton over the rim of her cup. She set it down and wiped at her upper lip with her napkin. “It appears he has come home early.”

  Dr. Orton glanced inside the parlor, his eyes skimming the group, until his gaze landed first on Marjorie and then on Dora.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Dora set her cup on a nearby table and crossed the parlor with the ease of a gazelle. She met Dr. Orton in the hall and was greeted with a heartwarming smile.

  Marjorie sipped her own punch, watching Dr. Orton and Dora exchange pleasantries. She wished she could hear what they were saying. Instead, the hum of chatter and the clinking of silverware on bone china filled her ears.

  Dr. Orton motioned toward his office and Dora nodded. She preceded him into the room. The door was left open and Marjorie took a few steps to the left to see inside.

  Dora sat in the chair Marjorie usually occupied in Dr. Orton’s office. He sat on the edge of the desk, close to Dora, his rapt attention on the young lady.

  “Miss Maren, thank you for this wonderful tea party.” Miss Baker appeared at Marjorie’s side.

  Marjorie turned to the lady from the mercantile. Miss Baker stood next to the fireplace, a plate of pastries in her hand.

  “Dr. Orton’s home is as lovely as I had imagined.”

  Marjorie nodded as her eyes surveyed the room. The front parlor was beautiful with oversize windows looking out onto the covered porch, comfortable floral-covered furniture and a large gilded mirror over the mantel. Light poured in through the windows, warming the room and offering a pleasant glow on an otherwise dreary November day.

  “I’ve always said you can tell a lot about a family from their parlor.” Miss Baker took a bite of pastry. “This is delicious. My compliments to the cook.”

  “I’ll let Mrs. Gohl know,” Marjorie said. “What can you tell about the Ortons from their parlor?”

  “They are wealthy but practical. They have their guests’ comfort in mind, but their furniture is still stylish and well made.”

  “Practical, you say?” Marjorie asked.

  “Why, yes, I believe I did.”

  “Would you say you’re a practical person?”

  Miss Baker seemed to consider the question, a giggle in her voice. “I can’t say that I am. I spend far too much money on sheet music, I eat far too many sweets, and I enjoy spending my Saturdays at the Lowell Theater.”

  “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” Marjorie thought of the list she had made for Dr. Orton’s wife. Miss Baker appeared whimsical, yet bold. A good combination. She was also pretty and loved children—or at least, Ma
rjorie assumed she did, since she taught Lilly’s Sunday school. But best of all, she wasn’t practical. “Lilly told me you teach Sunday school. Do you have any other jobs?”

  “I am an assistant to our local photographer.”

  “What a fascinating job.” It was good to hear that Miss Baker had a career. It showed Marjorie that she was a self-assured woman who didn’t mind challenging the status quo—exactly what Dr. Orton needed. Marjorie wanted to believe Miss Baker would be a good candidate for Dr. Orton, but she couldn’t be sure. Maybe the best way to find out would be for Miss Baker to come to dinner, just as Mrs. Jensen had. “Miss Baker—”

  “It’s Rachel.”

  “Rachel, would you care to join the Ortons for supper tomorrow night?” She quickly thought through the list of women she had already invited to supper. Three in all. But the other two were coming on Wednesday and Friday. “I’m sure Lilly and Charlie would enjoy hosting their Sunday school teacher...and I think Dr. Orton would enjoy getting to know you better.”

  Rachel’s cheeks tinged with color. “Do you think so?”

  “I do.” Marjorie glanced across the room and past the hall to his office. What was he discussing with Dora? Was he even now speaking to her about marriage? Why did the thought bother Marjorie so much? Was it because Dora was too much like her sister and wouldn’t stand up to Dr. Orton when she needed to?

  “I would love to come to dinner.”

  Marjorie glanced back at Rachel. “Good. Six o’clock?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “We look forward to having you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course.”

  Marjorie walked over to Lilly. “Is everything going well?”

  Lilly grinned up at Marjorie. “I’m having ever so much fun!”

  “Wonderful.” Marjorie patted her shoulder. “Let me know if you need something. I’m going to the kitchen to see if Mrs. Gohl requires any help.”

  “All right.”

  The room was filled with fourteen single women, and Marjorie had spoken with all of them, but only three had seemed right for Dr. Orton.

  Marjorie smiled at each guest as she walked nonchalantly through the room, toward the archway leading to the front hall. She would make the pretense of checking on Mrs. Gohl, but really she wanted to hear what Dora and Dr. Orton were discussing.

  Ever so slowly, Marjorie moved past the office door, just out of view from the parlor.

  “...I feel as if I’m betraying Anna’s memory,” Dr. Orton said.

  “You’re not. You’re doing this for Anna.”

  There was a pause and Marjorie imagined Dr. Orton was looking at the photograph again.

  “Don’t worry,” Dora said. “I’m happy to do it. I know Anna would want it this way.”

  “What about Miss Maren?”

  “I think she’ll be relieved.”

  Marjorie inhaled a breath and held it for several moments. Dr. Orton had proposed to Dora? But...she wasn’t right for him, not right at all. She was a lovely person, but she was too passive. He needed a woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and tell him when he was wrong—which was more often than he realized.

  “When will you tell the children?” Dora asked.

  “I don’t see any reason to tell them now. We can wait until closer to the date.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “Right before Christmas.”

  Marjorie exhaled her breath. There was still time to change his mind. Maybe, if he liked one of the women Marjorie had invited over for supper better, he would call off his engagement to Dora. No one but Dora and Marjorie would need to know.

  “My lips are sealed,” Dora said. There was a pause and then she added gently, “John, you’re doing the right thing—”

  “Miss Maren.” Lilly appeared at the parlor door holding an empty pitcher. “Could you please tell Miss Ernst to get us more punch?”

  Marjorie took a step away from the office door and nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “We’re also running low on sandwiches.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  Dora suddenly appeared at the door with Dr. Orton just behind her.

  Marjorie smiled and walked past them with the empty pitcher in hand.

  She would pretend she hadn’t heard a thing.

  * * *

  John entered the front parlor and found Lilly, Dora and Miss Maren sitting on the sofa, their faces glowing, but their postures exhausted.

  “Papa.” Lilly sat up. “There’s leftover punch and cucumber sandwiches if you’d like some. I can get them for you.”

  “Maybe in a little while.”

  Lilly stood and walked across the room. She put her arm around John’s waist. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go read for a while.”

  John squeezed her in a hug and then winked at her as she smiled and left the room.

  “Was it a success?” he asked the two women who remained.

  Miss Maren sat up a bit straighter. “It was a success. Lilly did a marvelous job. I believe everyone had a good time, too.”

  “She really did,” Dora added. “She’s turning into a fine young lady, right before my eyes. All the guests were quite impressed with her hospitality. We should applaud Marjorie for teaching her well.”

  It was the first time someone had called Miss Maren by her given name. It suited her.

  “She’s a natural,” Marjorie said. “I taught her very little.”

  “Anna would be proud.” John cleared the emotion from his voice. “Thank you—both of you—for doing this for Lilly. It’s something Anna would have done if she were here.”

  Dora stood and approached John. She took his hand and squeezed it. “It was our pleasure, wasn’t it, Marjorie?”

  Marjorie also stood, stacking empty plates, but didn’t look their way. “It was.”

  “Leave that for Miss Ernst,” John said. “You deserve a break. Go and enjoy the rest of your day off.”

  She continued to clear the dishes, but still she didn’t look at him. “Where would I go, and what would I do?”

  Dora glanced at Marjorie. “Maybe next Sunday I can watch the children and John can take you out and show you more of the town.” She smiled up at John. “It’s been a while since you went driving. I think Marjorie would enjoy a day out. It would be good for you, too, I think. You used to enjoy it so much.”

  “I still do.”

  Marjorie studied them with a quizzical frown, but looked away when John met her eyes. She bent over and picked up a napkin lying on the floor.

  Would she enjoy spending an afternoon with him? The idea of getting her alone for a few hours sounded more appealing than he would have thought. Was it decent to do something like this with the governess? On the other hand, who would show her around if it wasn’t him? “Would you enjoy that, Miss Maren?”

  She straightened, that same puzzled look on her face. “You wouldn’t mind, Dora?”

  Dora shook her head and offered a smile. “Mind? I would love to spend the day with my nieces and nephews.”

  “Then it’s settled,” John said, feeling a bit nervous, though he didn’t know why. “Next Sunday, if the weather cooperates, I’ll take Miss Maren out for a drive.”

  Marjorie stared at the two of them as if they had just said something preposterous.

  Dora patted his arm, stealing his attention off Marjorie. “I should be going.”

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  “All right.”

  They exited the parlor and John helped Dora put on her wraps.

  Marjorie walked to the archway. “Goodbye, Dora.”

  “Goodbye, Marjorie, and thanks again for a lovely party.”

  John opened the door and Dora slipped out.
He closed it behind him, but not before glancing at Marjorie one last time. Why did she look so confused?

  The air was crisp and filled with the scents of fall. Decaying leaves, smoky bonfires and wet earth wafted past. Front porches were decorated with colorful pumpkins, gourds and cornstalks. Thanksgiving would soon be upon them.

  The first Thanksgiving without Anna.

  “I really do think you’re making the right decision in going to the medical conference,” Dora said to John. “I’m happy to stay at your home and help Marjorie with the children.”

  “If I’m not married by then.”

  “If you are married, I’ll be happy to help your wife take care of the children—if she needs help,” she quickly added.

  “You don’t think Anna would mind me talking about her death?”

  “No. If it can help even one patient, I’m sure Anna would have wanted you to speak up.”

  “I’ve had some success using cinnamon oil as a treatment and preventative.” He paused. “You and Mother Scott are still taking ten drops a day in a glass of water, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She slipped her arm through his elbow as they shuffled through fallen leaves. “You need to stop worrying about us.”

  “How can I? You’re the sister I never had. Anna would be angry if I didn’t worry about you.”

  “I miss her.”

  John took several breaths before he answered, “I miss her, too.”

  “Then you must go. You said the conference is right before Christmas?”

  “Yes—but what if one of the children becomes sick while I’m gone? I wasn’t here with Anna when she became ill, and I regret my decision to leave town every day. Is it too much to risk leaving again?”

  “John,” Dora said in frustration. “It’s an honor to speak at such a prestigious medical conference. The children will be fine—and you’ll only be a few hours away by train in Minneapolis. If someone becomes sick, which they won’t since they’re taking their cinnamon oil, we’ll call you home.”

  “Promise?”

  She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder, just as she had done the day he met her when she was an eight-year-old girl.