A Mother in the Making

by Gabrielle Meyer

  “They’ve been working on it since Thanksgiving,” Marjorie said. “Don’t ruin the last three weeks of preparation by barging in here.”

  John clamped his jaw closed and took several deep breaths. He finally spoke through his tight lips. “Come down to my office immediately.”

  Marjorie’s face revealed her apprehension.

  Good. She should be very concerned right about now.

  “I’ll be back soon, children,” Marjorie said, looking over her shoulder. “Lilly, can you please put everything back in place? And, Charlie, please find Petey. He needs to help you...” She paused and quickly glanced at John. “You know what he needs to do.”

  “Petey is cowering in the hallway,” John said as evenly as he could manage.

  “Cowering?” Marjorie’s eyes filled with alarm.

  John turned and started down the stairs. “Now, Miss Maren.”

  Her light footsteps followed him down the stairs and into the hall.

  “Petey.” Marjorie stopped and bent down to Petey’s level. He was sitting on the floor with his knees up to his chest and his airplane clutched in his hand. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

  “He’ll be fine,” John said.

  “But he’s trembling.” Marjorie looked at John like he was a cad. And maybe he was, but right now he only wanted to talk to Marjorie.

  John pointed toward the stairs. “In my office. Now.”

  “What did you do to Petey?”

  “Nothing.” John tapped his foot. “Now, Miss Maren.”

  She put her hand on Petey’s head, sympathy filling her voice. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll read Peter Pan to you, all right?”

  Petey just stared at John without answering.

  Marjorie stood and brushed past John with an air of disdain.

  Excellent. Now she was mad, too.

  They marched down the stairs, past a startled Mrs. Gohl and into John’s office.

  He barely had the door closed when he turned on her. “What were you thinking?”

  She crossed her arms, her eyes accusing him. “How rude and heartless you are. Petey is terrified of you right now, and frankly, so am I. Have you looked in the mirror? Your hair is standing on end and the scowl on your face—”

  “You know what I’m talking about. There is yet another young woman in this town who will never look me in the eye again. And it’s all because of you.”

  She stared at him, her mouth clamped shut.

  “It was completely inappropriate to send Miss Olson to the hospital. I was mortified—and so was she.”

  Marjorie’s arms slowly lowered to her side, a bit of her anger dissipating. “Mortified? Why would both of you be mortified?”

  “Miss Olson didn’t bother to tell me why she had come to my office until after I gave her an examination.”

  Marjorie’s hand flew up to her mouth and she blinked at him with her green eyes. “What?”

  “Imagine the embarrassing conversation that ensued.”

  “I didn’t tell her to go to you for an examination. I just said to go there and meet you. You said I couldn’t invite women over to the house anymore—”

  “So instead you send them to the hospital where I would assume they need medical attention?”

  “Why didn’t she tell you the purpose of her visit before?”

  “Apparently she was nervous.” He had never met Miss Olson before she had stepped into his office. Her symptoms had been vague and she had stammered as she talked to John.

  Nurse Hendricks had been in the examination room with him, but neither one could pinpoint what was wrong with the young lady. The only experiences he had with unmarried women who acted so upset were with unmarried pregnant women.

  Thankfully the exam had not gone much further than listening to her heart and lungs and palpating her stomach. But it had been enough. “When I asked her if she might be pregnant, her face turned white and she looked like she would pass out. The poor woman was finally able to stutter out why she had come between sobs and hiccups—and then she fled my office.”

  Marjorie swallowed and looked properly contrite—but it wasn’t enough for John.

  “Why, Marjorie? Why would you send a stranger to me like that? I’ve rarely been so humiliated and I cannot imagine how she is feeling at this very moment.”

  “I thought...” She paused and turned away from him.

  He wouldn’t let her go so easily. He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him again. He couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “Do you truly think I’m that desperate to find a wife?”

  “Aren’t you desperate? You’re leaving for Minneapolis tomorrow and you won’t return until the day before Christmas Eve. I’ll be gone a week after that.” She implored him with her voice. “Who will take care of the children after I leave?”

  He put his hand on the back of his neck and tried to rub away the tension. Who would take care of the children? He had been diligently looking for a wife for weeks now, but no one had satisfied him. “Maybe you could stay until I find someone.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  How odd that the first day she had arrived she was the one begging to stay, and he wanted her to go.

  “Then I will have to find another governess.”

  Marjorie took a step toward him. “You can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Her eyes looked a bit panicked. “You have to get married before I leave.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I made a promise to myself that I’d find you a wife and I can’t leave the job unfinished.”

  “Marjorie, that’s ridiculous. You are not responsible to find me a wife.”

  “But I have to.” She paced across the floor to his desk, her thumbnail between her teeth. “Maybe, if I have your cooperation, and we do this together, I could find someone for you while you’re gone.”

  He shook his head. “You’re talking nonsense now.”

  “The only reason none of the other women have worked is because you didn’t cooperate—”

  “That’s absurd. None of them were fit to raise my children—”

  “John.” She put her hands on her hips. “You can’t be so particular.”

  He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with Marjorie, of all people. He still couldn’t be in the same room with her, or the same house for that matter, and not think about her constantly. The only place he had a reprieve was at the hospital, but even there thoughts of her snuck up on him—especially when she sent young, unsuspecting women to him. “I’m not being particular. This is a very serious decision and I won’t make it lightly.”

  “Your standards are too high. You must lower them, or you’ll never find someone.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re talking about a mother for my children. My standards should be exceedingly high.” The truth was, every woman he had interviewed in the past few weeks had not measured up to Marjorie. If he was going to find a wife, he would have to stop comparing them to her—which had proven almost impossible.

  “There has to be someone,” she said softly.

  “There’s not.”

  She crossed her arms about her, almost like a hug, but didn’t say a word. What could she say?

  “Will you stay until I find someone?” he asked.

  “What choice do I have? The job will not be complete until you’re married.”

  He let out an inward sigh.

  She planted her feet and squared her shoulders. “I will stay until you find a wife—but you’ll have to allow me to help you find her.”

  “What would that entail?”

  “I can invite women over for supper—”

  “With a proper warning—”

&nbs
p; “And you must give them your undivided attention.”

  “Then I insist—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “If I’m going to stay until you find a wife, then I insist on having full authority to find her for you.”

  “Full authority?” He laughed. “I would never leave this completely in your hands.”

  “Clearly I cannot leave it in your hands, either. I plan to go to California after the first of the year, and I will find a wife for you before I leave.”

  “In a week and a half?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Not if we work together.”

  John took a deep breath. What did it matter? If he couldn’t have Marjorie, then he would have to settle for second best. “Fine.”

  She nodded once, but a hint of sadness edged her eyes.

  Not for the first time, John wished his circumstances were different and he could offer her the type of marriage she longed for.

  * * *

  Marjorie had finally found her. She could feel it deep in the marrow of her bones. Mrs. Worthington would be John’s new wife.

  Marjorie stood outside the modest two-story home just a few houses down from the Ortons’ front door and knocked. The day was bright and clear, and the sun gave surprising heat. Drops of water fell from the eaves of the home and gathered in puddles. The streets were sloshy and impossible to pass by automobile, but there wasn’t enough snow left for horse and sleigh, either, so many people were out walking on this Sunday afternoon.

  A maid answered the door, her black-and-white uniform clean and crisp. “May I help you?”

  Marjorie presented her calling card. “Is Mrs. Worthington at home?”

  The maid accepted Marjorie’s card and nodded, taking a step back. “Please come in. Mrs. Worthington is in the parlor with her parents. May I take your hat and coat?”

  Marjorie slipped her outerwear off and handed them to the smiling maid, who motioned toward the rear of the house. “This way, please.”

  Nerves fluttered inside Marjorie as she glanced at her surroundings. No matter how many times she had approached a woman in regards to John, it had not gotten easier. In fact, it had only become harder. She was running out of time and options. John had already been gone for two days at the conference, and Christmas was fast approaching. When he returned, there would be little time to keep looking. The children had a special program arranged for him, and it took much of Marjorie’s spare time to prepare.

  Hopefully this time Marjorie had found the perfect woman for John. From everything she’d heard, Mrs. Worthington would be an ideal match.

  But would the young widow agree?

  And, more important, would John?

  “Miss Marjorie Maren to see you, Mrs. Worthington.”

  Three people sat in the spacious parlor. An older gentleman and lady, and a younger woman about thirty years old. All three stood when Marjorie entered.

  The room was appointed with lovely furnishings, if a bit gaudy. A large fireplace dominated the space and potted plants filled every corner.

  Three sets of curious eyes followed Marjorie across the room.

  She hadn’t anticipated an audience for this meeting. The very thought made her palms sweat.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Maren,” the younger woman said. She was beautiful, with dark brown hair and stunning blue eyes, and she carried herself with a confident ease. “I’m Mrs. Worthington and these are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. McCumsey. Won’t you have a seat?”

  “I do hate to be rude,” Marjorie said. “But I was hoping to have a private conversation.”

  Mrs. Worthington shared a questioning glance with her parents. “I suppose we could step out onto the porch...”

  “We were just about to go for a walk,” Mr. McCumsey said. “Please feel free to have a conversation here in the parlor.”

  As the older couple left the room, Marjorie offered them a grateful smile.

  Mrs. Worthington studied Marjorie as she waved her hand toward one of the chairs her parents had left. “Please have a seat.” Mrs. Worthington sat in the chair she had been occupying earlier and began to pour Marjorie a cup of tea. “I must confess I’m intrigued by your visit. Have we met before? Your name sounds familiar.”

  “We have not, but I’ve heard a great deal about you. I’m sorry to hear about your late husband.”

  Mrs. Worthington paused in serving the tea and looked down at the large diamond ring on her left hand. “Thank you. It was all so terribly sudden. I’m still a bit surprised to find myself back here in my hometown after being in Chicago for the last decade. I’ve only just arrived yesterday.”

  “Yes, I know.” Marjorie nodded. “I’ve been told you know my employer, Dr. Orton.”

  Mrs. Worthington’s lovely blue eyes brightened and she leaned forward. “How is John?”

  Marjorie swallowed a stab of jealousy at the familiar way she referred to him. “He’s—” She took a deep breath. “He’s fine, though he’s mourning his own loss.”

  “It’s awful, isn’t it?” Mrs. Worthington shook her head and handed Marjorie the cup of tea. “Anna and I were best friends as children. I was the one who introduced the two of them—had you heard that?”

  Marjorie nodded. Dora had told her the whole story.

  “I went to Northwestern University in Chicago,” Mrs. Worthington said, settling back into her chair. “My mother had so hoped I’d choose Smith, but I wanted to stay in the Midwest. New England can be so stuffy.” She took a sip of her tea and then lowered the cup, her cheeks filling with color. “That’s where I met John.” She looked down and toyed with the teacup in her hand. “I suppose I fancied myself in love with him. And for a time, I thought he might love me, too. But Anna came to visit me, and once they met, I gave up all hope.” She lifted the teacup to her lips and took another sip.

  Just as Marjorie had suspected. Mrs. Worthington had been in love with John. “Will you stay in Little Falls?”

  Mrs. Worthington set down her cup and lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know what I’ll do. My husband and I had no children, so I have little to worry about in that regard. Of course, my parents have offered to let me stay here, but I don’t know if I could settle back into small-town life. Thankfully my husband thought of the future, and I’ll be comfortable for the rest of my life, so my options are endless.”

  If Dora’s information was correct, Mrs. Worthington’s late husband had left her more than comfortable. He had left her a millionaire.

  “Do you—” Marjorie licked her lips. “Do you suppose you’ll marry again?”

  Mrs. Worthington squinted at Marjorie. “I’m sorry, but who exactly are you?”

  Marjorie smiled and tried to look innocent. “I’m Dr. Orton’s governess.”

  “Governess...” Mrs. Worthington’s gaze drifted over Marjorie’s attire, as if she didn’t think Marjorie looked like a governess. “Your name sounded familiar. Do I know you from somewhere else?”

  “I am from Chicago. Maybe you’ve heard of my father, Joseph Ma—”

  “Of course! My husband spoke of Mr. Maren all the time. I can’t recall your mother’s name, though.”

  “Her name is Esther.”

  “Yes, that’s it—and—” Her eyes grew round and she put her hand in front of her mouth. “No.” She shook her head. “You’re not the Marjorie Maren, are you? Weren’t you engaged to Preston Chamberlain?”

  Marjorie adjusted her position and set her teacup down. “Yes.”

  Mrs. Worthington leaned forward, as if to receive a bit of gossip. “Why ever did you leave him? Wasn’t he the beau to catch last year?”

  This conversation was not going how Marjorie had intended.

  “What else do I recall?” Mrs. Worthington asked, t
ouching her long fingernail to her chin. “Wasn’t there a scandal about a married man? I seem to remember something about it in the newspaper.”

  “All rumors.” Marjorie smiled, waving her hand aside in nonchalance.

  “Maybe,” Mrs. Worthington said, lifting an interested eyebrow. “And maybe not.”

  Marjorie cleared her throat. “I was wondering if I could ask you a question—about Dr. Orton.”

  Mrs. Worthington didn’t appear to want to change the subject. “However did you come to be John’s governess? I had assumed you’d run away to be with the gentleman they mentioned in the papers.”

  “One should never believe everything one reads in the newspapers.” Marjorie tried to laugh but didn’t feel the humor. “About Dr. Orton...”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Worthington smiled. “What did you have to ask?”

  Marjorie took a sip of her tea to wet her dry mouth and then straightened her back. “Dr. Orton has four children.”

  “Yes, I’d heard.”

  “And—well, this is very awkward for me to say—but he’s in need of a wife.”

  “A wife?”

  “I will be leaving after the first of the year, and Dr. Orton needs someone to help with the children.”

  “A wife, you say?” Mrs. Worthington stood, her elegant black mourning gown flowing as she walked to the window. She crossed her arms and stared outside, but her gaze looked much farther away. “I never imagined John and I would be single at the same time.”

  Marjorie also stood. “I heard from Anna’s sister, Dora, that you were back in town, and I just thought—” She swallowed. “I thought maybe you and Dr. Orton could become reacquainted.”

  “Reacquainted? Now, there’s an interesting thought.” Mrs. Worthington turned, her gaze suddenly shrewd. “Why did you come here and tell me this, Miss Maren? What do you gain?”

  “Gain?” Marjorie said the word as if it were tainted. “I gain nothing by coming here.”

  “Surely you have some motive.”

  “I simply care about Dr. Orton and his children, and hoped to reconnect old friends.”

  Mrs. Worthington approached Marjorie. “All this is very interesting, but I hesitate to believe you. I’ve met very few people who don’t have a selfish motive behind their acts of charity, which I suppose this is in some way. John is probably devastated at losing Anna, and his poor children are heartbroken. Someone needs to rescue all of them.”