John and Jacqueline shook their heads.
When Eugenia was gone, neither one touched their food.
“I had hoped to have children,” Jacqueline said quietly, pushing aside her plate of food. “I would not be content to raise Anna’s children without a few of my own.”
Anna’s children.
John absently turned his plate until the corn was facing him. When Marjorie was with the children, she treated them as if they were her own. She loved them unconditionally, and he had a feeling, if he married her, she would be content even if she never had any of her own.
His head came up at the thought.
Jacqueline studied him with an odd look.
“I’m sorry,” John said, bringing his thoughts back to the present—back to Jacqueline. “But I can never offer you love or children of your own. I only have my home, my name and my children to offer.”
She studied him for a moment. “You’ve always respected me for telling you the truth, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Well, here’s the truth, Dr. Orton. It would never be enough to be married in name on—”
He opened his mouth to defend his position, but she put up her hand and continued.
“Yes, legally I would have your name and be entitled to everything you own, but I would be no different than a hired governess. If I’m to be hired by anyone, then I will stay on at the hospital where I can have the freedom to come and go, and where I can continue to look for a man who will love me and offer me everything my heart desires.”
She was right. What he was offering her wasn’t fair. “You deserve nothing less than true love, Jacqueline.”
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand, this time for just a moment. “You do, too, John.”
“I can’t ask God for true love twice in a lifetime.” He lifted his fork and sank it into his mashed potatoes. “Besides, I have no desire to love again.”
“May I add one more thing?” she asked.
He offered her a nod.
“Your children also deserve to have a mother who loves them like they need to be loved—not one who simply agrees to marry you just to raise them. Even if she’s willing to settle for a loveless marriage, make sure she’s not willing to settle for loveless parenting.”
Her words were filled with truth. His children deserved unconditional love, but who would love them like a mother?
Marjorie filled his thoughts once again. After watching her with his children, he could no longer picture someone else filling the role of mother to Charlie, Lilly, Petey and Laura. When he closed his eyes at night, it was Marjorie he saw sitting at his table, and playing with his children, and rocking Laura to sleep. It was Marjorie he pictured when he came home from work. She would be ideal.
He might not be able to give her everything she desired in a marriage, but unlike Jacqueline, Marjorie loved his children and they loved her. Maybe that would be enough of an incentive for her to stay.
But could he marry her, and keep her at a safe distance?
He took a bite of his meat loaf and swallowed it down with a drink of water. It would be hard, but if it meant his children were receiving the love and attention they needed, he would do whatever needed to be done.
Maybe the answer to his prayers was already living in his home.
* * *
Snow fell softly against Marjorie’s bedroom window as she sat curled up in an overstuffed chair. A lamp glowed over her shoulder, and the fireplace crackled beside her, sending smoke and embers up the chimney. The book in her hand remained open, but she could not concentrate on the words. Her gaze and her thoughts were focused outside, away from her room, and somewhere in town where John was dining with his nurse.
Marjorie sighed and put her bookmark in place.
It was no use. She could not focus until John was safe at home.
The children had been in bed for thirty minutes, which meant she should try to get some rest, but she knew sleep would elude her. Her mind was wide-awake.
The door leading to the night nursery creaked open and Lilly entered Marjorie’s bedroom. “May I come in?”
Marjorie smiled, thankful for a diversion on this cold, snowy night. She held her arms open. “Please come in, Lilly Belle.”
Lilly rushed across the room and climbed into Marjorie’s lap. She laid her head on Marjorie’s shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither could I.”
“What do you do when you can’t sleep?”
Marjorie ran her hand over a strand of Lilly’s golden hair. “I try to pray or read my Bible. Sometimes I write in my journal. But if none of that works, I drink warm milk and eat a cookie.”
Lilly lifted her head. “I think milk and cookies would make me very sleepy.”
Marjorie giggled. “I had a feeling that might work. Shall we go to the kitchen?”
Lilly nodded and climbed off Marjorie’s lap.
They tiptoed out of Marjorie’s room and used the servants’ stairs to go to the kitchen.
The room was dark and chilly. Marjorie flipped on a light switch and walked over to the gas stove. She hadn’t spent much time in Mrs. Gohl’s kitchen—or any kitchen for that matter—but she did know where the milk and kettles were, since she often prepared the special formula John recommended for Laura.
Lilly went to a small pantry and opened the oak icebox. She pulled out the milk while Marjorie stood on tiptoe to get the copper kettle from the top shelf, making sure she didn’t bang the kettles together and cause the whole house to rise. “You’re such a good helper, Lilly. What would I do without you?”
Lilly giggled as Marjorie set the kettle on the stove and Lilly poured the milk inside.
“Now, don’t let it scorch,” Lilly warned. “Keep the heat low and stir it constantly with a whisk.”
Marjorie smiled as she turned on the gas burner. She might not know her way around a kitchen, but she could warm milk—even if that was almost all she knew how to make. What would she do on her own in California before she earned enough money to hire servants? She might very well starve.
Marjorie glanced at the kitchen clock. It was ten minutes after eight. When would John return home?
“I was thinking about Papa and Nurse Hendricks,” Lilly said as she stood beside Marjorie, watching her stir the milk.
“What were you thinking?”
“I don’t want my papa to marry her.”
“No?”
Lilly put her arm around Marjorie’s waist. “I want you to stay here forever.”
Marjorie put her free hand around Lilly’s shoulder. “I wish I could stay forever.”
Lilly looked up at Marjorie, her innocent face filled with questions. “Then why don’t you? I can talk to Papa and ask him to let you stay.”
“I wish it was that easy.” Marjorie watched the white liquid spin around the kettle. “Your papa wants to get married again so you can have a mother. It’s very important for children to have one, you know. A mother can do more for you than a governess.”
“Why don’t you marry my papa?” Lilly asked.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Marjorie stopped stirring the milk and squatted down until she was eye level with Lilly. “I would love to be your mother, but I am going to California. Your father will find someone who would make a far better mother than me.” She offered Lilly a smile. “I’m still trying to help him find the perfect one.”
“I think I already have.”
Lilly and Marjorie both turned their heads at the sound of John’s voice.
“Papa!” Lilly raced across the kitchen and jumped into her father’s arms.
He hadn’t removed his hat or coat, and snow clung to his clothing. He watched Marjorie with his dark brown eyes. She stood and turned bac
k to the stove, blindly stirring the milk, wishing her stomach didn’t feel so strange every time he appeared unexpectedly.
“What are you still doing awake, Lilly?” John asked.
“Miss Maren and I couldn’t sleep, so we came downstairs for warm milk and cookies.”
John’s heavy footsteps crossed the kitchen floor until he stopped just beside Marjorie. “It looks like the milk won’t be ready for a little while. Go and grab a couple cookies.” John set Lilly on her feet. “And then get to bed. We have church in the morning.”
“May I bring my cookies to my room?” Lilly asked hopefully.
“Just this once.” John took his hat off and set it on the table next to the stove. “I need to speak with Miss Maren. Alone.”
Marjorie looked down at her robe and slippers, all too conscious of her unbound hair.
Lilly ran to the pantry and pulled a cookie jar off the shelf.
John continued to stand beside Marjorie.
Steam began to rise from the milk as her mind swirled with what he had just said. Had he asked Jacqueline to marry him? He said he found the perfect mother for his children... Then why this stab of pain? Wasn’t that what she wanted? To be replaced?
She licked her dry lips but didn’t look at him, not trusting her emotions at the moment. “Maybe I should bring Lilly up to her room.” Marjorie started to move away from the stove, but John gently held her arm.
“I’d like for you to stay.”
His touch sent warmth through her body, but it was the tickle of his breath upon her cheek that caused gooseflesh to race up the back of her arms. He smelled of a spicy cologne that made her head swim and her pulse beat against her wrist and neck.
They stood that way until Lilly hurriedly left the room with a handful of cookies, as if she was afraid her father would change his mind. “Good night,” she mumbled over her shoulder, a cookie already in her mouth.
As soon as she was gone, John reached around Marjorie and turned off the gas. The flame under the kettle sputtered and died.
Marjorie swallowed and waited, unsure what she should do or say. His earlier comment still echoed in her mind and heart. Would Marjorie be forced to leave much sooner than she had planned...than she was ready?
“Would you like me to pour you a glass?” he asked close to her ear.
The last thing she wanted at the moment was a glass of warm milk, but she nodded. “Yes, please.”
John moved away from her and took two glasses out of a cupboard. His movements were slow and steady as he poured milk into each one. When he was done, he offered her a glass. “Be careful. It’s hot.”
She took the glass of milk but didn’t take a sip. The liquid heated the glass and warmed her hand.
“Would you please sit with me?” John asked.
Marjorie’s breath was unsteady and her hands shook. “All right.”
He indicated the table in the corner of the room, near the floor-to-ceiling window, where the light didn’t quite reach.
John pulled out a chair for Marjorie and she took the seat.
Snow continued to fall outside, gently brushing the window and falling on the white ground. It was a steady snow with little wind to move it about.
“How long do you think the storm will last?” she asked, unable to look him in the eye.
He took off his hat and coat, and then sat across from her at the small table causing their knees to touch.
She repositioned herself.
“Marjorie.”
“Yes?”
“Will you please look at me?”
She tore her gaze off the snow and looked into his warm brown eyes.
“Did you hear what I said earlier?” he asked. “When I first entered the kitchen.”
She nodded, but she couldn’t bring herself to repeat his statement. She couldn’t bear to think of what it meant.
How had she allowed herself to get so entwined in this family?
“I said I have finally found the perfect mother for my children.”
Nurse Hendricks. It made sense. He had known her for years. They worked well together. Marjorie hated to admit the truth, but she was almost certain John had found a woman who would fulfill many of the items on both of their lists. “When will you get married?”
“As soon as she says yes.”
“You haven’t asked her yet?”
He shook his head slowly, his gaze intense. “These things take time.”
She played with the rim of her glass. Almost relieved that he hadn’t asked her yet. It meant she’d have more time with the children before she was forced to leave—yet he didn’t have much time left. “Remember, I’m leaving the first of the year.”
“I know, and I’ll be gone for a few days before Christmas.”
She frowned as she studied his handsome face. “I don’t understand why you need more time to ask her—isn’t she agreeable to the idea?”
It was his turn to study her. “I don’t know.”
“Then why not ask her? Even if she says no, you may still have time to convince her.”
He swallowed. “All right.” He cleared his throat, his face very serious. “Will you marry me, Marjorie?”
Marjorie stood so quickly she bumped the table and the two glasses of milk tipped. White liquid spilled across the table and splashed her nightgown. “Me?”
He rose, milk dripping from his trousers. “It’s not the worst idea.”
“But—what about Jacqueline?”
“She would never love my children the way you do.”
Marjorie pointed to her chest. “I can’t marry you.”
“Why not?”
“There are so many reasons.” The most important was that he didn’t love her—and she could never marry a man who didn’t love her.
Unexpected moisture gathered in her eyes. She turned away so he wouldn’t see her silly tears and crossed to the sink to grab a dish towel. She was able to get herself under control before she came back to the table and wiped the warm mess.
John grabbed another towel and bent down to clean the floor. He looked up at her, his voice soft, entreating. “I’m sorry I upset you. I thought, since the children love you...maybe you’d consider staying.”
“The children?” Pain sliced through her. Yes, the children loved her—but that would not be enough to sustain a marriage. She needed the love only a husband could give. She refused to settle for anything less—refused to sleep in the governess’s room for the rest of her life.
“I know what happens when a man and a woman marry each other without love.” She set down the damp rag, her voice quivering with emotion. “Bitterness grows where love should reside, and they become angry and cold toward each other, and toward the world. I could never enter a loveless marriage.”
He slowly stood. “Marjorie, I cannot—”
She shook her head. “I know.” She couldn’t bear to hear his words—not now, not when he had just proposed. She knew what he would say, but hearing him say it would be too much. “I should go to bed.”
She walked around him and he didn’t try to stop her.
The back stairs were dark as she climbed them. One of the treads creaked, making her jump and causing the tears to start up all over again.
She stopped and leaned against the wall. What did it matter if John proposed to her without loving her? He needed a mother for his children; she knew that from their very first conversation. Hadn’t she even tried to find someone for him to marry? His proposal should mean nothing to her—another business proposition—no different than him asking her to be the children’s governess.
Yet it did matter.
He was the second man to propose marriage without offering her love.
Was it too much to ask for someone to
love her?
Chapter Fourteen
John rested his hands against the top of the kitchen table, staring at the falling snow just outside the window. A gust of wind whipped around the house, swirling the flakes in a dizzying dance, much like the thoughts and emotions raging inside him.
He’d made a mess of things. What had he been thinking to just blurt out his question? He had planned to lay out all the reasons why she would be the perfect mother for his children. He knew it might take some convincing, but he didn’t expect her to get so upset.
Milk still clung to the crack in the table and dripped off the edge and onto the floor. John set both glasses upright and stared at the dirty towels. He sat at the table and put his head in his hands. He had been a fool to even think she’d agree to give up her dreams to help him. She deserved more than what he could offer.
Yet he wanted her to stay. The idea of her leaving left an empty void in the pit of his stomach.
The faint sound of crying met his ears and he lifted his head.
Marjorie?
He stood and walked over to the stairs, flipping the kitchen light off as he went. He would apologize to Mrs. Gohl in the morning for the mess—but right now he had something far more important to tend to.
The stairway was dark, but as he turned the corner, he saw Marjorie’s outline on the landing. She leaned against the wall, her face in her hands, and she was crying.
Empathy filled John’s chest and he longed to put his arms around her. He hated seeing her upset, especially if he had caused her tears.
But why had he caused them? Was the thought of marrying him so terrible?
“Marjorie,” he said gently as he stopped on the landing.
She looked up at him. The glow of a hall lamp reached down the stairs and he could faintly make out the lines of her beautiful face, tears streaking her cheeks. She really would make a stunning actress on the movie screen. And if she looked half as heartbroken on film as she did in this moment, men and women all over America would cry with her.
He touched her cheek and moved a tear off her delicate skin. “What’s wrong?”
A Mother in the Making Page 15
