A Mother in the Making

by Gabrielle Meyer

  Would Nurse Hendricks be sitting in the seat Marjorie currently occupied when the family watched Marjorie on the screen?

  The thought left Marjorie feeling sad...and lonely.

  Tarzan ended, much to the children’s dismay.

  They walked out of the theater, everyone bundled up with small packages in their hands from their earlier shopping.

  “Must we go home?” Charlie asked, a yawn escaping his mouth.

  “Mrs. Gohl will have supper ready for us,” John answered as he handed Laura to Marjorie.

  They piled into the Model T as John cranked it to start. He got into the front seat with Marjorie and Laura, while the three older children sat in the back. The children could not stop talking about the movie. They asked Marjorie and John all sorts of questions about jungles and apes, and movie projectors and cameras.

  Their joy was the very thing Marjorie hoped to bring to others when she was in the movies.

  The Orton home was only four blocks from downtown, so they made the trip quickly in the cold weather. John parked inside the carriage house and they all hurried into the warm back hall.

  “I think I’ll join Miss Maren in the movies one day,” Charlie said as he took off his coat and hat.

  “No, you won’t,” John said, unbuttoning Petey’s coat. “You’ll get a good education and make something of your life.” He looked up at Marjorie, an apology on his face. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

  Marjorie shook her head and hung up Lilly’s wool sailor coat. “Come children, let’s wash for supper.”

  “Marjorie—” John put his hand on her arm.

  She stepped away from him and ushered Lilly out of the back hall, not wanting him to see how his words stung. “Don’t bother to explain. It’s fine.” She swallowed the lie, knowing how some people felt about the movies. Many actresses had poor reputations—but she would be different. She would have nothing to do with the lifestyle they were known for. And even if people thought poorly of her, what did it matter? She had already lived through the worst scandal in Chicago’s recent history. She could handle anything that came her way...well, almost anything. It surprised her how much it mattered what John thought.

  Marjorie walked into the front hall, Laura in her arms, with all the other children following. John brought up the rear of the group, still trying to get her attention, but at the moment, she couldn’t face him.

  Miss Ernst appeared, her red hair sticking out of her maid’s cap. “Mrs. Scott is in the parlor waiting to speak to you,” she said to John. “She’s been here for over an hour.”

  John sighed. “Miss Maren, can you see that the children are washed for supper?”

  “She wants to see Miss Maren, as well,” Miss Ernst said. “I’ll tend to the children.”

  Why would Mrs. Scott want to see Marjorie? She mimicked John’s sigh and handed Laura to Miss Ernst.

  The children disappeared with the maid and Marjorie couldn’t help touching her hair to make sure every pin was in place. “What do you think she wants?”

  John only shook his head.

  They walked into the parlor and found Mrs. Scott standing near the window, looking out onto the front yard. She must have heard them, because she turned. “There you are.”

  “Hello, Mother Scott,” John said. “What brings you here today?”

  “Miss Marjorie Maren,” Mrs. Scott said. “And this little piece of information.” She held up a slip of newspaper. “It seems Miss Maren has been hiding some things from us.”

  John looked at Marjorie, a question in his eyes.

  Marjorie took a step forward and spoke quickly. “Don’t believe everything you read in the newspapers. Most of it was made up to sell more copies.”

  “Made up?” Mrs. Scott lifted the newspaper clipping and read. “‘Miss Marjorie Maren, the daughter of prominent banker and business tycoon Joseph Maren, failed to appear at her wedding to railroad fortune heir Preston Chamberlain and has now gone missing. A grand wedding was planned, with a honeymoon to Europe. Mr. Chamberlain had even purchased an elaborate home for his bride-to-be, tailored to her specific demands and filled it with expensive furnishings and a full staff.

  “‘Where is the bride, we ask? And why would she run away from the most eligible bachelor in town? Sources have confirmed that Miss Maren was seen in the arms of a married man the night before her wedding. Did she run off with the man? Ladies, if your husband is missing, he could very well be in Miss Maren’s arms this very moment—’”

  “They lied,” Marjorie said.

  John frowned as Mrs. Scott handed him the clipping.

  “See for yourself, John,” Mrs. Scott said with a smug nod. “I told you she was no good.”

  John looked at Marjorie. “I don’t understand. Is any of this true?”

  She swallowed, ashamed that he had heard this from someone other than her. “Some of it—”

  “And you let her spend time with your children?” Mrs. Scott asked. “She’s a terrible influence. Dora would be so much better for all of you. Why don’t you simply propose and get on with your lives?”

  “Mother Scott, please.” John spoke to his mother-in-law but didn’t take his eyes off Marjorie. “Now is not the time to speak of Dora.”

  “But when is it time? I’m afraid she won’t wait forever—”

  John pointed to the newspaper article. “Miss Maren, can you please explain this?”

  “She’ll only tell you more lies,” Mrs. Scott said.

  “Mother Scott, maybe you should leave.” John tore his eyes from Marjorie. “I would like to talk to Miss Maren alone.”

  Mrs. Scott took a step toward Marjorie and wagged her finger under Marjorie’s nose. “You’re a disgrace to the Orton and Scott families. I knew the moment I saw you that you were carrying a secret. You have that sly look about you—”

  “Mother Scott.” John’s voice filled with warning. “No one deserves to be treated that way—especially in my home. You need to leave immediately.”

  Mrs. Scott’s mouth fell open. “I can’t believe you’d speak to me that—”

  “Please leave.” John walked out of the parlor and opened the front door.

  Mrs. Scott looked from Marjorie to John, disbelief on her face. “Fine. I’ll leave—and I won’t return until this woman is safely out of your home.”

  Marjorie’s back grew stiff as she watched the woman depart.

  Mrs. Scott swept her dress away from John as she exited the house.

  John closed the door firmly and reentered the parlor. “Now, tell me what all this is about.”

  Marjorie licked her dry lips, suddenly in need of something to drink.

  John crossed his arms. “What part is true and what is made up?”

  Marjorie had faced her parents and numerous friends after she jilted Preston—but none of them made her as nervous as John. Why did she care so much about what he thought of her? She would rather face Preston right now.

  “It’s true that I was engaged to Preston Chamberlain, and it’s true that he purchased a home for us—though I had nothing to do with furnishing it or hiring the staff. That was part of the problem. It should have been fun to do those things together, shouldn’t it? But with Preston, everything was so practical and matter-of-fact. He treated the whole thing like a business venture—and I suppose it was. He and my father had been working together for years—”

  “Marjorie, you’re rambling.”

  She took a deep breath. “It’s also true that I stood him up at the altar. I didn’t have the courage to face him and call off our engagement.” Or, rather, she didn’t have the courage to face her parents, knowing how disappointed they would be. “So I simply didn’t show up at the wedding.” She said the last few words barely above a whisper. Marrying Preston was yet a
nother thing she had failed to complete.

  “What about...?”

  “The married man?”

  He nodded, watching her carefully.

  It was true that she was in the arms of a married man—but not for the reason John thought. She clasped her hands, trying to hide their sudden shaking. “That part is true, too. But nothing happened.”

  “Why were you in his arms?”

  She bit her bottom lip for a moment. He was the last person she wanted to discuss this subject with. “I can’t say.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t tell you why—I need to protect him.”

  “From me?”

  “From gossip. I can’t risk saying anything. You’ll have to believe me that nothing was inappropriate about the hug.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth when we first met?”

  “I was afraid you would believe the rumors.”

  “Then you don’t know me very well.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t know you well—but now that I do...” She paused. “Well, I’m almost sure I can trust you to believe me.”

  John was quiet for a moment as he stood across from her. “You’ll have to trust me to believe you, just as I’ll have to trust that you’re telling me the truth.”

  She needed him to trust her, especially if the whole truth was ever revealed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  John pulled up to the curb and looked at the address Jacqueline had given him. Before him stood a large boardinghouse only two blocks from the hospital. White trim and black shutters hung against red clapboard. Smoke spiraled from the chimney while an evergreen wreath hung on the front door, its ribbon blowing in the cold wind.

  He should have been excited to pick her up and spend the evening with her—after all, he could potentially be spending the rest of his life with her.

  So why was he dreading their meal together?

  Before the thought fully formed, he knew the answer. It was because he’d rather be at home with his family. He had left them sitting in the parlor with plans to make popcorn over the fireplace and read Little Women together after supper. Charlie had been sitting in a wingback chair, one leg draped over the armrest, while Lilly had sat on the floor, playing with Laura, and Petey had been running through the room, flying his toy airplane over tables and sofas and around the lamp.

  But it was Marjorie who had captured his full attention. She had sat on the sofa, opposite Charlie, engaging him in a conversation about something that had happened at school. The two of them hardly noticed as he had said goodbye.

  Despite his promise, John couldn’t forget the conversation he’d had with her after Mother Scott left the day before. He trusted her that nothing inappropriate had happened in Chicago, but it didn’t stop him from wondering what part of the story was true, and what part had been made up by the newspaper. Why had she been in another man’s arms? Who was the man, and why was she trying so hard to protect him?

  He sighed as he walked up the sidewalk to the boardinghouse. Before he could knock, Jacqueline was standing there with a smile on her face. He had never seen her in anything other than her white nurse’s uniform, and it took him a moment to recognize her.

  “Hello, Doctor,” she said.

  “Hello...” He paused, just about to call her Nurse Hendricks. Instead, he said, “You can call me John.”

  She offered him a shy smile. “I don’t think I can.”

  He extended his arm. “May I call you Jacqueline?”

  She stepped over the threshold and closed the door, and then tentatively wrapped her arm through his. “Of course.”

  “Then I hope you can call me John.”

  She laughed nervously. “I’ll try, but forgive me if I slip up. Ten years is a long time to call someone a name and then call them something different.”

  He brought her to the Ford and opened the passenger-side door. “Are you nervous?”

  Jacqueline let out a quick breath. “Terribly.”

  “Then that makes two of us.” But he wasn’t nervous to be with her—he was nervous that this was all a big mistake and he should have stayed home.

  A smile of relief lit her face. “Thank you for understanding.”

  John cranked the car to start and then jumped into the driver’s seat. “I hope you like the Sand’s Café.”

  She looked at him with a grin. “I don’t care where we go tonight.”

  They drove to the Sand’s Café in downtown and found a booth near a large plate-glass window. Automobiles and buggies drove down Main Street, and pedestrians strolled on the sidewalks. The lights from the Lowell Theater blinked, drawing his attention as people entered the building to see Little Orphan Annie.

  The restaurant was cozy, with a balcony nestled high in the wall across the room. A couple sat there, noses practically touching as they gazed into each other’s eyes. The woman smiled at the man and offered him a kiss before she giggled and pulled away.

  John couldn’t help picturing Marjorie in that little balcony. She would be talking and laughing and full of life. He would probably spend the entire meal with his chin in his hand, just watching her and laughing at her uncanny ability to get into trouble. He had a feeling she would be affectionate and playful, just like she was with the children.

  “John.” Jacqueline fluttered her hand in front of his face. “Eugenia is here to take our order.”

  John blinked several times and then smiled as one of the Sand sisters stood before him, a pad and pencil in her hand.

  “Do you want what they’re having up there?” Eugenia asked with a little wiggle in her brow. “I’m not serving kisses here tonight. Meat loaf, yes, hugs and kisses, no.”

  Jacqueline’s cheeks filled with color and John cleared his throat. “I’ll have the meat loaf.”

  “I will, too,” Jacqueline said as she lifted the menu.

  Eugenia winked at them. “Coming right up.”

  John finally met Jacqueline’s gaze and he offered her an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

  “I’ve been like that since yesterday when you asked me to supper.” She glanced at his head and nudged her chin in his direction.

  “My hat!” He quickly removed it from his head. “Forgive me. I’m preoccupied tonight.”

  “So it seems.”

  He looked her over. “I’ve never seen you in your everyday clothes. You look different without a nurse’s uniform.” Instead of a white dress, she had on a plum-colored affair. It was a bit old-fashioned, especially compared to Marjorie’s extravagant clothing.

  “I feel like my nursing uniform has become my everyday clothes, especially since the influenza outbreak.” She crossed her arms, looking every bit the competent nurse he knew. “Let’s stop stalling and start talking about the reason we’re here tonight.”

  “That’s what I like about you—”

  “No nonsense.”

  “Exactly.” He pushed aside his silverware and put his clasped hands on the table. With a deep breath he plunged forward. “I’ve been looking for a wife for several weeks now.”

  “I’ve been looking for a husband for about ten years.”

  “My children need a mother.”

  “I’d love to have children.”

  John paused. “Would you really consider this?”

  Jacqueline reached across the table and put her hands over his. It was the first intimate touch they had ever shared and it sent a strange and unpleasant feeling through John.

  “I’ve admired you for years,” Jacqueline said. “The way you handle patients, the devotion you had for your wife, the love you have for your children. You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. When Anna died, I mourned with you—but a part of me hoped that maybe, once you s
topped mourning, you might look my way.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I never actually thought you would. I know I’m not much to look at—”

  “Jacqueline.” He wanted to remove her hands from his, but he didn’t want to embarrass her. “I’m still mourning and I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, but—”

  “I think I’ve always been in love with you, but I was content to watch you from a distance.” She lowered her eyes until her lashes brushed her cheeks. “Could it be that I might share your life? It seems like a dream come—”

  “Nurse Hendricks.” This time he did remove his hands. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me.”

  Jacqueline pulled her hands into her lap, her eyes filled with mortification. “What?”

  “I have no interest in love or romance.” Heat gathered under his collar and he pulled it away from his sticky neck. “I need a mother for my children, and that is all. If you marry me, you will sleep in the governess’s room and will be expected to care for Charlie, Lilly, Petey and Laura. I mean no disrespect, but I will marry in name only—nothing else.”

  Jacqueline swallowed. “Is it because I’m too plain?”

  “What?” He was struck speechless for a moment. “No, of course not. Looks have nothing to do with this.” He swallowed the lump of discomfort in his throat. “No. You’re a fine-looking woman. Any man would be proud—”

  “Is it because of my age? I know I’m over thirty years old and no longer a desirable age to bear children—”

  “No,” John said again, wishing he could get up and leave this conversation. “Age has nothing to do with this, either. I simply do not want a traditional marriage. I am still grieving Anna and I would not dishonor my vows to her and marry again for love.”

  “But with time...”

  John shook his head. “I am content to remain in separate rooms permanently.”

  Eugenia brought their plates of meat loaf and mashed potatoes. She glanced at both of them with curiosity in her gaze. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”