A Mother in the Making (15 page)

Dora looked at her expectantly, but Marjorie couldn't bring herself to say what she had come to say. Pain and disappointment waged within her chest, threatening to dislodge the tears she had held at bay since deciding to do this last night.

It was the right thing to do. It made sense. It was necessary.

“I've come to ask you to marry John.”

Dora's hand fluttered over her chest. “Pardon me?”

“He's looking for a wife, a mother for his children. Who would be better suited to love him and the children? You're the closest relation to Anna they'll ever have.”

Dora blinked several times. “Marjorie—I don't know what to say.”

“Say you'll marry John. It would be a great relief for me, knowing you were caring for them after I left.”

“I can't marry John.”

“Don't you love him?”

“Of course I do. He's my brother. I was eight years old when he married Anna. I've looked up to John practically all my life.”

“What prevents you from marrying him?”

Dora made a funny face. “Marjorie. He's my brother.”

“Not really.”

“In every way that matters—besides...” She paused, her face taking on a shine. “I'm in love with someone else.”

Marjorie had not anticipated that response. “I had no idea.”

Dora glanced toward the foyer to where Mrs. Scott had just disappeared. “I don't speak of him often, because I don't want to upset Mother.”

“Why would it upset your mother if you spoke of him?”

“She has such hopes that John and I will marry.” Dora fiddled with a fold in her skirt. “But, more than that, Jeremiah lives in Minneapolis and if we married, I would have to leave her.”

“I see.” Marjorie couldn't help feeling deflated. If Dora would not marry John, then who would? She was running out of options.

“May I speak candidly?” Dora asked.

“Of course.”

“I think you should marry John.”

Marjorie's back stiffened. “I cannot.”

“Why?”

“It's complicated.” Marjorie glanced at the clock. She really should be going.

“For what it's worth,” Dora smiled, “marriage is always complicated, and life is too short to let the complications stop you from true happiness.”

Marjorie stood. “I should go.”

“I hope I didn't offend you.”

“Of course not.” Marjorie went to the foyer and picked up her wet hat and coat. If she was going to find a wife for John, she would need to use the rest of her day to keep looking. She put on her outerwear and turned to Dora. “Goodbye.”

Dora opened the door. “Goodbye, Marjorie.”

Marjorie stopped and put her hand over Dora's. “Take your own advice and tell your mother about your beau soon rather than later.”

Marjorie stepped out into the cold and braced herself against the blowing snow. It would be a long walk to the music hall where there was a performance for the Little Falls Musical Club.

Surely there would be a woman there who would marry John.

Chapter Fifteen

S
he had finally done it. Marjorie Maren had gone too far.

John could hardly see straight as he pulled the horse and sleigh into the carriage house three weeks after the ill-fated night he had kissed Marjorie.

He wished he could simply park the horse and storm the house to tell Marjorie exactly what he thought of her latest shenanigans. Instead, he unhitched the mare, rubbed her down and fed her oats. Then he wiped the sleigh and closed up the carriage house.

The time and energy it took to accomplish his tasks did not lessen his anger—it only fueled the irritation more.

By the time he trudged up the path in the snow from the recent storm, his body was slick with perspiration and his heart pounded with exertion.

What in the world had Marjorie been thinking? Was she truly that desperate to marry him off?

He slammed the back door and tore his hat and coat off his body. He detested yelling in his home, but right now he didn't care if the house fell down around him. “Marjorie!” His voice boomed in the back hall. He threw open the door leading to the front hall. “Marjorie!” he yelled again.

Petey sat on the bottom step, his airplane in hand, and looked at John with the widest blue eyes John had ever seen.

“Where is Miss Maren?” John asked.

If Petey's face was any indication, John must look like a monster right about now.

Instead of answering John, Petey stood and ran up the stairs as if a bear were on his tail.

“Marjorie!” John yelled again.

“Where's the fire?” Mrs. Gohl rushed into the front hall with a dish towel in her hand.

“Where is Miss Maren?”

“Last I heard she had taken the children up to the day nursery—but I don't think she'd want you up there—”

John was already taking the stairs three at a time.

“They're planning a surprise for you, sir,” Mrs. Gohl called after him. “They'll be so disappointed if you see.”

John rounded the corner landing and continued up the stairs. He passed Petey in the upper hall and threw open the third-floor stairway door. “Marjorie!”

There was a flurry of scraping and foot rustling just above his head on the third floor. John raced up the steps, and just as he opened the door, Marjorie was there.

She pushed the door back with all her weight. “You can't come up here.”

Their faces were mere inches apart, and she smelled wonderful.

It only made him angrier. “What were you thinking?”

Lilly appeared under Marjorie's elbow. “Papa, don't look. We're planning a Christmas surprise for you.”

“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—”

“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...”