A Mother in the Making

by Gabrielle Meyer

  * * *

  For over an hour, John drove Marjorie around Little Falls. He brought her past White Pine Lumber Company, home to the largest lumber mill in the world, and north to Belle Prairie, where the Belle Prairie Mission had once stood proudly on the banks of the Mississippi. He even drove her to the ruins of old Fort Ripley. He told her about the history of the area, and about the people who had shaped Little Falls into the thriving community he had joined ten years ago as a young man, just starting out on his journey.

  She sat quietly, listening to what he said, but he felt as if she were miles away in California, or maybe Chicago. Her revelation had surprised him—but enabled him to see inside her heart, a place he didn’t realize he longed to go until he was there.

  “Would you like to see the hospital where I work?” he asked.

  She tore her eyes from the scenery of the countryside. “Is it safe?”

  “Safe?”

  “Will I be exposed to influenza?”

  “Are you taking your cinnamon oil?”

  She scrutinized him. “Do you really think it works?”

  “I do. I’ve had great success with the treatment. That’s why I’ve been asked to talk at the medical conference in Minneapolis.”

  “You’re going to talk about cinnamon oil?”

  He waved at a former patient outside a small home as they drove south toward St. Gabriel’s Hospital. “Among other things, yes.” He paused for a moment. “I’ve also been asked to talk about my own personal loss.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Is there medical benefit to discussing Anna’s death?”

  His chest felt heavy with the reminder of his wife. As the days had progressed, and he had been preoccupied with his patients and with Marjorie’s misadventures, he had kept the pain at bay. It was moments like this that it felt raw, like a fresh wound still bleeding. “At first I didn’t think so, but then the conference director wrote a letter, explaining how my personal experience can help the other doctors feel more empathy toward their patients.”

  “Don’t they have empathy now?” Marjorie asked. “I imagine all of them have been overwhelmed with loss. How could they not feel empathy?”

  They drove through the downtown once again, this time going past the music hall and bank square. “Some have become desensitized to the loss. The director hopes my story will cause them to soften their hearts toward their patients’ plight.”

  The sun sat low in the pale sky, illuminating Marjorie’s curls. “Are you ready to talk about Anna’s death?”

  Was he? Did it matter if he wasn’t? Life had forced him to move forward at a rapid pace. Three months ago, he would never have thought he’d be searching for a new wife—yet he was. He didn’t think he’d be invited to speak at a prestigious medical conference, about a disease no one really understood—yet he was. He hadn’t anticipated sitting in his Model T with a beautiful young woman, who set his pulse racing in a way that made him feel as if he was somehow being unfaithful to his marriage—yet he was.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to talk about Anna’s death, but I’ll try.” He stopped for a pedestrian to cross the street. “Dora has said she’ll come to the house to help take care of the children while I’m away—if you want her to.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. “You said the conference is right before Christmas—just a month away. Do you think you’ll...?” Her words died away.

  He glanced at her and found her fiddling with a button on her coat. “Do I think I’ll what?”

  “Do you think you’ll be married by then?”

  He directed his eyes toward the street once again, his palms suddenly sweating against the steering wheel. “Yes. I hope to be married by then, or at least planning a wedding,” he said with little emotion. “Though it won’t be a grand affair. After all, it will be a practical arrangement with no need for a big ceremony.”

  “Practical,” she said quietly.

  “Yes. Practical.”

  He turned left off Main Street and took the street leading to the yellow brick hospital on the southern end of town. The four-story building was one of the tallest in Little Falls. A matching building stood next door, housing the St. Otto’s Orphanage. The sisters took care of the ill, the aged and the fatherless, and they did it with grace and humility. John was honored to be part of such a fine ministry.

  He stepped out of the Model T and walked around to open the door for Marjorie.

  She stood and put her hand on his arm, just before he closed the door. Her eyes begged him, even before she uttered a word. “Please don’t marry just for practicality’s sake, John. Find someone who can take care of all your needs—but, at the same time, can make life an adventure for you every day. Find someone you want to grow old with—and not just because she’ll make a good mother, but because...” She paused, her tone softening. “Because you love her.”

  He swallowed several times, unable to look into her penetrating gaze. “I’ve made up my mind. I will not marry for love.”

  Marjorie removed her hand from his arm and didn’t say another word.

  They walked into the hospital, side by side, and for a long time, he could still feel her touch on his skin.

  Chapter Twelve

  John crumpled yet another piece of paper and tossed it into the wastebasket near his desk at the hospital. It was the day after Thanksgiving, which meant he only had three weeks to prepare his keynote address for the medical conference.

  He should be thinking about what he wanted to say, or at the very least, how his patients were faring on the floor above him—but all he could think about was Marjorie and their time together during their drive. At work, his thoughts often drifted to her. At home, he had become increasingly aware of her movements, listening for her voice, watching for a glimpse of her.

  More reason to keep his focus on finding a wife. The sooner he was married, the sooner Marjorie could leave.

  “Dr. Orton?” Nurse Hendricks lightly knocked on his open door. “I have the records you asked for.”

  John glanced up at his longtime nurse and took the folders she offered, thankful for a distraction from his thoughts. They were the records of patients who had survived influenza after getting his cinnamon oil treatment. He recommended ten drops in a glass of water to prevent influenza, but if a patient came to him already infected, he would prescribe ten drops in a glass of water every two hours until the fever subsided. If treatment began within a few hours of the onset, patients often showed signs of improvement within twelve hours. If treatment began later, it could be twenty-four to thirty-six hours before they were better—provided it wasn’t too late.

  If only he could get Dr. McCall to use cinnamon oil, perhaps others would be saved.

  Nurse Hendricks studied him for a moment. She was close in age to John, but her youthful face showed no lines or wrinkles. Maybe because she had never married or had children.

  “Are you feeling all right?” she asked. “You look terrible.”

  “Always ready to deliver the truth, aren’t you?”

  She smiled and folded her arms over her white uniform. “The bitter truth. It makes me a good nurse. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  He waved aside her question. “I’m fine.”

  She took a seat across from his desk, her light brown eyes focusing on his face. “You might as well get it off your chest. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Don’t you have a job to do?” he teased. “I know for a fact that Mrs. Smith needs something.”

  “She always needs something.” Nurse Hendricks leaned back in her chair. “Right now you have my undivided attention. Is this about the conference?”

  John pushed away from his desk and stood. “No. This is a personal issue.”

  “Oh.” Her one word was filled with a
hint of discomfort.

  “You asked.” He crossed his arms and lifted his brow.

  “I know.” She laughed ruefully and braced her hands on the armrests. “I can take it—no matter how personal it is. I’m a nurse, remember?”

  John walked over to the window and looked out at the frozen earth. A snowstorm had finally passed by, layering the ground with a foot of pristine snow. It hung off the Norway pines just outside and insulated the roofs of the houses nearby. The bleak gray sky threatened more, which meant the disease was finally now under control—at least until spring.

  He turned back and looked at her. “I need to find a wife, preferably before the end of the year.”

  She sat up straight. “A wife?”

  “A mother for my children, actually.”

  “And that’s what’s bothering you?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked down at her hands, her brisk voice now barely a whisper. “What’s the trouble? Surely you, of all people, wouldn’t have a hard time convincing someone to marry you.”

  He laughed. “I wish it was that easy.”

  Nurse Hendricks slowly stood from her chair. She was a tall woman and was eye level with him. Her face was serious. “It could be that easy.”

  John paused, but his pulse jumped. “You?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. I’m a woman, after all. I grew up with a houseful of siblings. I know my way around a nursery.”

  “Of course, but—” But he had never thought of her in that way. She was strong, independent and professional. She never spoke of her personal life, so he knew very little about her. He thought of her as a colleague, just as he did Dr. McCall. It never occurred to him to think of her any other way.

  She lowered her gaze. “If you’ve run out of other options, you could consider me.”

  He rubbed his forehead, unsure how to proceed. He’d known her for years, and had always thought of her as the most competent nurse in the hospital. He had never considered that she might leave her work to marry and have a family. “Would you quit your position here at the hospital to do this for me?”

  She glanced up at him and for the first time in the ten years he had known her, a shade of crimson filled her cheeks. “All you need to do is ask.”

  John couldn’t have been more surprised by this turn of events. Had he ever addressed her by her first name? He was fairly certain it was Jacqueline—but he didn’t know for sure.

  Maybe this was the answer to his prayers—the answer that had been under his nose the whole time. He respected her and she fit every item on his list. She wasn’t attractive, but she had a kind face, and when she smiled, her eyes twinkled with humor.

  Best of all, he had never once had romantic thoughts toward her. He could honor his marriage vows to Anna and live with Nurse Hendricks in name only. Her skills as a nurse would prove invaluable as she took care of the children.

  John couldn’t help smiling. He would ask her out to a restaurant instead of have her at the house. Each time he had invited a female guest to dine with him had been a disaster. “Could I take you out for supper? I don’t believe we’ve ever spent time together away from the hospital. It would give us a chance to talk.”

  She nodded. “I would like that.”

  “How about tomorrow night?”

  “All right.”

  They stood for a moment in silence. Finally he took a step toward her and offered his hand. “It’s Jacqueline, right?”

  She took his hand and nodded.

  “Tomorrow night,” he said.

  “What’s tomorrow night?” Charlie suddenly appeared at John’s door, his cheeks and nose pink from outside. He pushed into the office with Lilly and Petey close on his heels.

  Marjorie was the last to arrive holding Laura on her hip. Her cheeks and nose were also pink, and her green eyes were shining—until her gaze fell on John holding Jacqueline’s hand.

  He let go instantly and took a step back.

  “To what do I owe this surprise?” John asked his family.

  “What’s tomorrow night, Papa?” Charlie asked again.

  “Children, do you remember Nurse Hendricks?” John asked.

  “Hello, children,” Jacqueline said.

  The children greeted her, though Petey shied away.

  “Nurse Hendricks, this is the children’s governess, Miss Maren.”

  Jacqueline extended her hand to Marjorie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” Marjorie shook her hand, her eyes scanning Jacqueline.

  “We have a surprise for you,” Lilly fairly sang. “You’ll never guess.”

  “I’ll leave you to your surprise.” Jacqueline smiled at John and then left the office.

  Charlie watched her leave, his perceptive gaze narrowed on John. “What’s tomorrow night?”

  They would learn about Jacqueline eventually. “I’ve asked Nurse Hendricks to go out to supper with me.” He couldn’t meet Marjorie’s eyes.

  “Supper?” Charlie asked. “Are you thinking about marrying her, too?”

  “Right now it isn’t any of your concern.”

  “But it is,” Charlie insisted.

  “What’s the surprise?” John asked Lilly instead.

  Lilly’s face lit up again. Apparently she forgot about his supper plans with Jacqueline. “Miss Maren is bringing us Christmas shopping!”

  John glanced at Marjorie, his brow raised.

  “You said the threat of influenza has died down,” Marjorie said. “I thought it would be good to get the children out of the house and focused on something joyful.”

  “The disease isn’t gone completely.”

  “But they’re taking their cinnamon oil.”

  “Miss Maren said we could go to a matinee at the Lowell Theater, too!” Lilly said, jumping up and down.

  “The matinee?” John asked.

  “She said we’ll love it!” Lilly grinned. “But best of all, she said we’re to invite you to come with us.”

  “Will you come, Papa?” Petey asked. “Please?”

  “I don’t think it’s wise to go out in public quite yet,” John said. “Miss Maren should have spoken to me about these plans before she shared them with you.” He glanced at her—and instead of looking contrite, she looked deceptively innocent.

  Charlie’s face darkened and he crossed his arms.

  “Papa.” Lilly’s chin quivered, just as it had the day he told her about Anna’s death. His children had been through so much these past few months, surely they deserved one afternoon of fun.

  He sighed. “All right. You may go.”

  Lilly’s eyes cleared and she ran into his arms. “Thank you, Papa.”

  “Will you come with us?” Marjorie asked.

  John glanced at the stack of reports on his desk, and the wads of crumpled paper in the wastebasket. “I really shouldn’t take the day off—”

  “It would mean a great deal to the children,” she said.

  John looked back at her, the desire to spend the day with her and the children a force he couldn’t deny.

  “It’s just one day,” Charlie said, his voice a bit grumpy. “Can’t we enjoy one day together?”

  John ruffled the boy’s cap. “If it means that much, I’ll see if I can get someone to cover for me.”

  The children jumped up and down, their cheers rising to the ceiling.

  John looked over Charlie and Lilly’s head to see Marjorie’s face.

  She smiled at the children and then met his gaze and offered him a victorious grin.

  He couldn’t help smiling in return.

  * * *

  Marjorie stole a glance at John as the screen flickered before them, making his face easy to see. He held Laura in
his arms. She was fast asleep, allowing the rest of them to enjoy Tarzan of the Apes. Marjorie studied his handsome face, so full of love and compassion for his children and his work. She couldn’t comprehend the great strain he was under to provide for his family and save a community of sick and dying. Marjorie had never met a more honorable man in her life.

  Next to John, Charlie watched the movie wide-eyed, his mouth ajar as he was engrossed in the story taking place. Beside Charlie was Petey, who held his toy airplane, his face filled with a bit more reservation, though he watched avidly.

  Beside Petey, next to Marjorie, Lilly sat primly in her wooden seat, her blue eyes darting around the screen. When captions appeared, Lilly bent over and read them aloud for Petey, who couldn’t read yet.

  A pianist sat at the front of the theater, playing the appropriate music for each scene.

  Usually Marjorie was riveted to the story, watching the actors and actresses come to life with grand expressions and dramatic performances. But Tarzan of the Apes didn’t hold her attention today. Instead, she couldn’t stop looking at the Orton family. She pictured them in her mind, a couple years from now, sitting in this very row of chairs, watching Marjorie on the big screen.

  What would each of them look like as they grew older? What would they do with their lives? Where would they go? Who would they marry?

  Would they remember Marjorie and the few short months they’d had together?

  John turned his head at that moment and met her gaze. His thoughts were imperceptible as he looked at her.

  A delicious sensation coursed through her at his look, but she forced herself to return her gaze to the screen, reminding herself that John Orton was not meant for her. He could not offer her the kind of relationship she desired to have.

  “Has anyone ever grown up in the jungle like that?” Lilly asked, not taking her eyes from the screen.

  “There are many people who live in jungles,” Marjorie answered quietly. “But I don’t believe any of them have been raised by apes.”

  Lilly giggled and didn’t say anything else.

  Marjorie tried to follow the story, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Nurse Hendricks. Was John considering her for a wife? The woman had appeared to be confident and straightforward. Maybe she would stand up to John and not allow him to sacrifice his family for his job.