A Mother in the Making

by Gabrielle Meyer

  “Not now, Mother.” John ran his hand through his hair. He should clean up, but he hated to leave Charlie for any amount of time.

  “You’re both being ridiculous,” she said.

  “Please go and check on her.”

  Mother set aside her yellow yarn and rose from the chair, stretching her back and neck.

  John took Charlie’s temperature once again. Still a hundred and four degrees. Very little had changed since John came home. Charlie’s face was bright red and his hair was slick with sweat.

  Mother finally returned. “She isn’t in the guest room—or any of the other bedrooms for that matter. Maybe she went to the Scotts’. Would you like me to go look there?”

  “It’s still snowing. I’ll go.” John glanced at Charlie. “He should be fine for now. If you need me, send Paul.”

  Mother put her hand on John’s arm. “Do you think everything is all right with Marjorie?”

  “I hope so.” He walked out of the room and went downstairs to the back hall. He put on his outerwear and left the house. The storm had not let up. If anything, it blew harder and colder than before.

  He had been too harsh on Marjorie and he regretted his angry words. In his fear and frustration he had lashed out at her. Had she gone to the Scotts’ to sleep? Maybe, when they were both rested, they could talk rationally about Paul.

  John knocked on the Scotts’ front door and was greeted by their maid. “Hello, Dr. Orton.”

  “Is Miss Maren here?”

  “No, sir.” She opened the door wider. “Please come in out of the cold.”

  Dora appeared in the foyer, her face filled with worry. “Charlie?”

  “Still unchanged.” John stepped over the threshold.

  The maid closed the door and then disappeared into the house.

  Dora approached. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine—I’m here to find Marjorie. Is she here?”

  Dora shook her head, her face filling with more concern. “She came over during breakfast to give Petey his airplane, but then she left.”

  “Did she say where she might have gone?”

  “No, but I’ll ask Angie.” Dora disappeared and came back a few moments later with the maid.

  “Do you know where Miss Maren went?” John asked.

  Angie looked between Dora and John. “No, but she had a satchel with her.”

  “A satchel?” Dora turned her startled eyes on John. “Why would she have a bag? Did she say she was going somewhere?”

  John rubbed the back of his neck. “She didn’t say a word to me.” But then he recalled the conversation in the kitchen when he had said it was time for her to leave. He hadn’t meant right away—hadn’t really meant what he said at all.

  “Do you think she’s out in this storm?” Dora asked. “Would she do something so foolish?”

  “She was upset and exhausted. She wasn’t thinking straight,” John said. “I need to look for her.”

  “You can’t go out in this storm.”

  “What if she’s lost in the snow? She’ll freeze to death.”

  “She’s a grown adult, and there are enough places for her to get warm. Anyone would take her in during this storm. Besides, you need to stay with Charlie.”

  Yes. Charlie. But maybe he could leave Charlie in Paul and Mother’s hands for a little while.

  “This is my fault. I was angry with her—”

  The door burst open and Paul stood on the porch, his coat thrown over his body in haste. “It’s Charlie. Something’s wrong.”

  John pushed past Paul and raced across the street. The ground was slippery and the snow was deep. He almost lost his footing more than once.

  Finally he ran up the front steps and burst through the door. His feet fairly flew across the hall and up the stairs to Charlie’s room.

  Mother stood over Charlie’s bed, her hands over her face.

  Charlie convulsed on the bed, his body seizing.

  His temperature was too high. The sweating wasn’t helping, only hurting.

  John pulled all the covers off his son, speaking quickly to his mother. “Get cool water and cloths.”

  “Where’s your mask?” Mother asked.

  “Forget the mask and get me the water!”

  Mother disappeared just as Paul entered.

  “We need to cool him down,” John said frantically. “His temperature is too high.”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “Draw a bath with lukewarm water.”

  “Right away.”

  Paul left the room and John began to remove Charlie’s pajamas, praying with every breath he took.

  Thankfully Charlie stopped seizing, but it took two hours of hard work to get his body temperature down. Every time the bathwater became too warm, Paul brought in another bucket full of snow. When John felt his temperature was in a safer zone, they brought him to his bed and Mother bathed his forehead with the cloths. When her arms became tired, John took over, and then Paul.

  Finally Charlie’s temperature lowered, and he was sleeping peacefully once again.

  Paul had gone to the kitchen to rustle up something for them to eat, but Mother continued to sit next to John, fatigue lining her face, even as a sense of peace hovered around her countenance. He sensed she was praying, even if he couldn’t hear the words.

  John leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees and clutched his hands together. “Why is God doing this? Wasn’t Anna enough? Now He wants Charlie, too?”

  “God wants all of us, John. He desires our heart and soul.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  Mother placed her wrinkled hand over John’s, her gentle touch softening his tight grasp. “One of the hardest things in the world is to be a parent,” she said. “It’s even harder to watch your own child struggle through times like this. I had to learn the hard way how to trust God and His perfect plan—now it’s your turn. There’s really nothing I can say to help you trust Him. It’s a choice you have to make on your own.”

  John dropped his chin to his chest. Who was he to question God’s authority and will?

  “I can tell you Charlie’s life is a gift,” Mother said softly. “And even if God chose to take him now, one day you’ll see him again, just as you’ll see Anna. Death is not the end, my son. It is simply the beginning for those who pass away, and a pause for those who remain behind.”

  Mother squeezed John’s hands. “Unclench your grasp and let Charlie go into God’s loving hands. He’s much safer there.”

  Tears gathered in John’s eyes and he did as his mother suggested. He dropped his hands and wept. He’d reached the end of his abilities and control. He would trust God, no matter what He decided to do with Charlie’s life.

  They sat in silence until John composed himself. Finally he rose and checked Charlie’s temperature once again. A hundred and one. Much better than before.

  He sighed as he touched his son’s warm cheek.

  “Why don’t you see if Paul needs some help in the kitchen?” Mother asked. “I’ll be here with Charlie.”

  John nodded and left the room.

  Paul stood near the counter, slicing a loaf of bread. He glanced up when John entered the kitchen. “There’s some jam on the table.”

  John’s stomach growled. He went to the icebox, removed a jar of milk and then took two glasses off a shelf. He brought them to the table and sat.

  The snow continued to fall, though it was now coming down in large flakes. Where was Marjorie? Had she gone out in the storm?

  Paul set the bread on the table and took a seat across from John. They said a prayer and then devoured their bread in silence.

  “Thank you for all your help,” John said.

  “I’m happ
y I arrived when I did.”

  John glanced at his younger brother, unable to hold his tongue. “Why did you come? I thought you’d be spending the first Christmas with your new wife in Chicago.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  John swallowed hard. “Does it have something to do with Marjorie?”

  Paul’s face was serious. “It has nothing to do with her.”

  “Something happened and I need to know.”

  Paul sighed and set down his glass of milk. “I wanted to wait until Charlie was better before I had to tell you.”

  John sat up straighter in his chair. Was it as he had suspected?

  “Josephine left me for another man.”

  John stared across the table. “What?”

  “That’s why Marjorie was consoling me in Chicago and now here. She’s the only person who knows the whole story, and frankly I’m sorry I had to share my burden with her. She’s already had to deal with so much.”

  “So you and Marjorie are not—?”

  “No.”

  Yet John had accused her. “Why wouldn’t she tell me the truth?”

  “I asked her not to.”

  “So she was only protecting you?”

  “She was also protecting you and Mother. I didn’t want to bother you with all this right now.”

  They sat in silence for a moment and then John pushed back his chair and stood. “I should check on Charlie.”

  “I’m sorry, John. I wish things were different between me and Josephine.”

  John put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I know you do.”

  John slowly walked up the stairs, Marjorie heavy on his heart. He had asked her to leave, simply because she could not betray Paul’s trust. What kind of man was he?

  He only hoped she was somewhere safe, because he couldn’t leave Charlie’s side to go looking for her.

  But Paul could.

  John checked on Charlie and then went back to the kitchen where Paul was cleaning up after their simple meal. “Will you go look for Marjorie?”

  “Of course—but I don’t know my way around Little Falls. I wouldn’t know where to look.”

  “Maybe Dora will go with you. Mrs. Scott can stay with the children.”

  “I’ll go immediately.”

  “Use the horse and sleigh.”

  A small measure of relief filled John’s chest—until he realized Marjorie could have already boarded a train for the West.

  What would he do if he never saw her again?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Marjorie stood near the window, watching the large flakes fall from the dark sky. Her room on the second floor of the Antler’s Hotel gave her a clear view of the industries dotting the western banks of the Mississippi. Just beyond the hotel, a group of hearty carolers had gathered near a lamppost, filling the air with the joyful songs of Christmas. The glow from the light circled around the singers, giving them an ethereal appearance.

  Marjorie lifted her window just an inch to allow the sound to enter in, though with it came a chill.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist, tasted the bittersweet flavor of the orange she’d had for supper and sighed. There was no Christmas tree in her little room, no presents to hide for the morning and no one to share the beauty of the evening.

  Who did she have to blame but herself? She had made the choices that had led her to this point.

  She yawned, wishing she had slept longer. The moment she checked into her room, she had fallen on the bed in complete exhaustion. Hunger pangs had pulled her from her sleep half an hour ago, but she was ready to go back to bed.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  Marjorie frowned and closed the window. Who would be knocking at her door at this hour of the night?

  The room she was renting was a simple affair with a single bed, a desk and a chair. Though the walls were papered in a creamy floral covering, there were no other decorations in the room.

  She slowly opened the door.

  A bellhop stood on the other side in a red-and-gold uniform.

  “Yes?”

  “You have guests in the south parlor, Miss Maren.”

  “Guests?”

  “A Miss Scott and Mr. Orton.”

  Dora and John? No. If it had been John, he would have said Dr. Orton. It must be Dora and Paul. But why had they come? Was it to tell her Charlie had died?

  Fear clawed at her chest and she didn’t hesitate a moment longer. She stepped out of her room and followed the bellhop down the long hall, toward the grand staircase into the lobby and down another hall to the south parlor.

  The bellhop opened the door and Marjorie entered.

  “Marjorie!” Dora stood and walked across the room. She threw her arms around Marjorie. “We’ve been looking for you for hours. We finally went to the depot to see if you had left town, and the ticket agent sent us here to the hotel. Why did you leave?”

  “How is Charlie?” It was the only question Marjorie wanted answered at the moment. The rest could wait.

  “His fever rose dangerously high this afternoon,” Paul said. “He had a seizure, but we were able to bring it back down. Other than that, nothing has changed.”

  Marjorie clutched her hands, feeling worse than before.

  “Let’s sit.” Dora pointed to a sofa and two chairs on either side of a roaring fireplace.

  Why had they come? It couldn’t be to ask her back. John had made his feelings clear about wanting her to leave. If they hadn’t come to tell her about Charlie, then what could it be?

  Marjorie sat, her back rigid, as Dora sat beside her. Paul took one of the wingback chairs. For a moment, they all looked at one another.

  Finally Dora spoke. “Why did you leave without telling anyone?”

  “I thought it would be easier for everyone if I didn’t make a big scene.”

  “But we were worried sick,” Dora said. “We had no idea if you’d gone out in the storm and frozen to death.”

  “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I made it to safety?”

  “Yes, of course,” Paul said. “John asked us to come. He would have come if he didn’t need to stay with Charlie.”

  “But why?” Marjorie looked between them. “John was the one who told me it was time to leave.”

  Paul and Dora exchanged a confused glance. “John was just as surprised as us that you left.”

  He was?

  “Why did you leave?” Paul asked.

  Why? There were so many reasons. “It was time. My job is done.”

  “Your job is not done.” Dora put her hand over Marjorie’s. “It’s only just begun.”

  “John will be married soon and I told him I was only staying until the first of the year.”

  “John is getting married?” Dora’s eyebrows rose. “To whom?”

  “To Mrs. Worthington.”

  “Mrs. Worthing—Camilla Worthington?” Paul’s face revealed his feelings—clearly he did not care for the woman. “When did all this happen? I knew he and Camilla were serious at one time, but John realized his mistake in that regard. He would never marry her.”

  “But—” Marjorie swallowed. She didn’t want to tell them she saw Mrs. Worthington and John kissing. It was painful enough for her to recall the event, let alone talk about it. “I have it on good authority that they are.”

  Paul stood. “John must be out of his mind. I can’t stand by and allow him to make such a foolish decision.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you left a week early,” Dora said. “Please come back with us and stay through the New Year. We all want you there.”

  “John wants you there, too,” Paul said.

  “He told you?”

  �
�He didn’t have to. I could see how upset he was that you were gone.”

  “Charlie needs you, too.” Dora squeezed Marjorie’s hand. “All the children are missing you. With Charlie sick, we won’t be celebrating Christmas, but it still wouldn’t be right for you to be here alone.”

  Marjorie removed her hand and stood. “The trains could start running at any time, and I want to be on the first one heading west.”

  “Why go now?” Dora asked.

  “Why wait?” Marjorie countered. “I’m just prolonging a departure that will take place sooner rather than later. I’ve already said my goodbyes. It would be too painful to go back.”

  “I wish John could be here,” Dora said. “He would talk some sense into you.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Marjorie said to her friends. “But I’m really quite content to stay here and wait for the train.”

  “Even on Christmas?”

  Marjorie lifted a shoulder. “How is one day different than another?”

  Dora and Paul shared another glance and then Dora stood. “I wish we could change your mind.”

  “Please tell the children I love them and I’ll be praying for them.” Marjorie hugged Dora.

  Dora hugged her back and then she stepped over to the door. “If you change your mind, come home. We’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

  The Orton home was not hers. It belonged to John and his children, and one day to Mrs. Worthington. Marjorie wasn’t needed right now. Not with Mrs. Orton’s arrival. She could see to the children’s needs.

  “Thank you, but I’ll be fine here.”

  Paul approached Marjorie. “Come back with us, Marjorie. It’s not right for you to be alone right now. I explained everything to John. He knows the truth.”

  Marjorie took Paul’s hand in hers. “Thank you. But this is where I’m supposed to be.” Even if John knew the truth, she still needed to leave. There was no future for them.

  He shook his head. “Goodbye, Marjorie.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Paul followed Dora out of the parlor and they both turned back to look at Marjorie. She waved them off, a smile on her face, when all she wished was to cry.