A Mother in the Making (4 page)

“John, think of your reputation!” Mrs. Scott said. “Even now the ladies in the church are looking at this woman with disdain.” Mrs. Scott looked out the corner of her eye and lifted her nose. “I think it's disgraceful.”

Marjorie's eyes grew round and she opened her mouth to protest, but Dora laid her hand on Mrs. Scott's arm.

“Mother, no one thinks such things.” Dora smiled at Marjorie. “I think it's wonderful that you are teaching Lilly how to be a hostess. I, for one, would be honored to be a guest at such a fine party.”

Marjorie glanced at Dr. Orton to gauge his reaction to Dora. His demeanor had softened at her arrival. He watched her with a mixture of affection and appreciation.

“Of course Lilly will invite you to her tea party,” Dr. Orton said.

Lilly looked up at her aunt and grinned. “You'll be my guest of honor.”

“What a wonderful privilege.” Dora squeezed Lilly's shoulders. “I shall take great care with my appearance that day.”

Dr. Orton took Petey from his sister-in-law's arms. “You always look beautiful.”

Dora looked up at Dr. Orton, her eyes shining. “Why, thank you, John.”

Marjorie glanced between them. Was he considering Dora for his next wife? It wouldn't be uncommon for him to marry his wife's sister—but Marjorie could already tell she was too much like Anna. Gentle, soft-spoken, compliant...

Mrs. Scott glared at Marjorie. Could she discern Marjorie's thoughts?

“We must be off,” Dr. Orton said. “I was at the hospital all night and I need to sleep before my shift tonight.”

“You're going back to work so soon?” Marjorie asked.

All eyes turned to her.

“Of course he is,” Mrs. Scott said. “My late husband was at the hospital more than he was at home.”

Marjorie wasn't surprised.

“With the pandemic, we're overburdened and understaffed,” Dr. Orton explained. “I will be working long hours. It's one of the reasons I hired you to—”

“Don't you dare explain yourself to her.” Mrs. Scott wagged her finger at Dr. Orton. “She's your employee. Dora would never question you.”

The blush in Dora's cheeks turned crimson, and Dr. Orton cleared his throat. He nudged his children toward their grandmother. “Say goodbye.”

Charlie, Lilly and Petey obediently kissed her wrinkled cheek, and then Dr. Orton and Dora began to walk down the aisle.

Mrs. Scott put her hand on Marjorie's arm and stopped her. “I saw the way you eyed up John and Dora.” She narrowed her eyes, and her hand tightened on Marjorie's arm. “I'm warning you not to intrude on their budding romance—do you hear me? John needs a woman like Dora, and the children need her, too.” She looked Marjorie up and down. “You, on the other hand, are completely unnecessary.”

Marjorie clenched her jaw. No one had ever talked to her in such a manner. “I'm sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Scott.”

“It's clear you're only here to secure John for yourself. I'm sure that's why his mother sent you.”

Marjorie opened her mouth to deny the claim, but Mrs. Scott interrupted her.

“I'm watching you—don't think you'll get anything past me.”

Laura began to stir in Marjorie's arms and she put the baby to her shoulder and bounced. Would Mrs. Scott discover the reason she had fled Chicago? There had been so many rumors flying about. Would they believe the lies? And if they did, would Dr. Orton allow her to stay, or would he put her on the next train out of town?

She swallowed the lump of apprehension growing in her throat. “Good day, Mrs. Scott.”

Marjorie walked down the aisle to join the Orton family, refusing to glance over her shoulder to see if Mrs. Scott was still glaring at her.

She needed to focus on meeting the other ladies in the church. If she only had until the end of the year with the Ortons, she had a lot to accomplish.

Dora turned to Marjorie. “Since you're new to town, would you allow me to introduce you to some of my friends?”

“Oh, would you?” Marjorie couldn't hide the appreciation from her voice.

“I'd be happy to.” Dora took Laura from Marjorie's arms and handed the baby to Dr. Orton. “You go ahead with the children, John. Mother and I will bring Miss Maren home later.”

Dr. Orton's face was lined with fatigue, but he took the baby without complaint.

“Maybe I should go home with Dr. Orton and allow him to rest instead,” Marjorie said, torn between meeting potential brides and offering the doctor a bit of a respite after a long night of work.

“Sundays are your day off,” Dr. Orton reminded her. “The children and I will be fine.” A yawn overtook his last word and he shook his head in embarrassment. “Pardon me.”

Dora linked her arm through Marjorie's and led her away from Dr. Orton and the children before Marjorie could protest further.

Marjorie glanced behind her and met the blue eyes of all four children. She experienced a strange mixture of relief at having a few moments to herself—and sadness at being away from them.

What an odd feeling.

Chapter Four

J
ohn switched on his desk lamp and glanced out the window. Soft snowflakes fell from the gray sky and landed on the cluster of tall Norway pines just outside the hospital. Usually he didn't like the onslaught of winter, but this year was different. Hopefully the cold air would force people to stay inside, and they could keep the influenza from spreading. Just this morning they had lost another patient, this one a young man who had recently returned from France after surviving an injury on the battlefront. He had died at the hands of the flu—and on the very day the world was celebrating the signing of the armistice, which had formally ended the war.

It didn't seem fair.

A knock at the door brought John's musings to an end. “Come in.”

Nurse Hendricks opened the door. Bags hung beneath her light brown eyes, and her round face looked pale against her white cap. Though she had not contracted the flu, the constant demands on her time and energy had done damage to her health. “Your last patient has arrived. Shall I show her in?”

“Yes, please.”

Nurse Hendricks nodded and then slipped out of the room, quietly closing the door. She had been at the hospital almost around the clock serving in any capacity she was needed.

John scanned the list on his desk. He had quickly come up with ten characteristics he wanted in a wife—and he was chagrined to realize the first six were a direct result of his two days with Miss Maren.

He tapped his pencil against his oak desk and leaned over the page, squinting as he scrutinized each item.

Practical

Experienced with Children

Modest

Sensible

Cautious

Levelheaded

Caring

Wise

Patient

Reasonably Attractive

He flipped his pencil over and poised the eraser above the last item. Did it matter if his second wife was attractive? He did not intend to have a marriage in the traditional sense, but he was smart enough to know he would be married for a long time, and it might help if his wife was pleasing to look at.

He started to erase the last line but lowered the pencil. What would it hurt to keep it on the list? He was the only one who would see it.

The door squeaked open and John flipped the paper over. He stood from his desk just as Nurse Hendricks led Winifred Jensen and her four young children into his office.

The widow's weary face matched the anguish in John's heart. “Hello, Mrs. Jensen.”

“Hello, Dr. Orton.” Winnie offered John a nod, but no smile turned up her once jolly mouth. She had been a good friend to Anna, and John had been a good friend of her husband, Calvin. The two couples had spent many happy hours together picnicking along the banks of the Mississippi River and riding through the countryside in John's Model T.

He would ask how she was doing, but he detested the platitude he so often received from well-meaning friends and neighbors. It was plain Winnie was not doing well since Calvin had died of the very same disease that had taken Anna.

Instead, he smiled at the twin boys he had helped deliver just four years ago. They wore identical gray coats and stared at him with identical hazel eyes. Even their freckles, which covered their nose and cheeks, were almost identical. How Winnie could tell them apart was a mystery.

But it was the two toddlers she held on her hips that drew John's attention. Another set of identical twins had been born to Calvin and Winnie two years ago. Girls. Their cheeks were rosy and flushed with apparent fever. Was it influenza?

“Please have a seat.” John indicated the wooden chair across from his desk and took the chart Nurse Hendricks held out for him. He opened the file, expecting to see the girls' names. Instead, it was Winnie's name listed there.

He glanced up at her and quickly assessed her outward appearance. She didn't look feverish, just worn down and filled with grief. Her jet-black hair had lost its shine and her brown eyes were lined with premature wrinkles. According to her chart, she was just twenty-five years old, but Calvin's death had aged her.

Nurse Hendricks took a seat just behind John, her hands busy with rolling bandages. She always stayed in the room with John when he saw a female patient, even ones he considered a friend, like Winnie Jensen.

“How may I help you today?” John asked.

The two boys stood on either side of their mother, watching John closely. Winnie set one of the girls on her feet, but the child began to fuss. Winnie sighed and picked her back up. She looked at John and her chin began to quiver. “Something terrible has happened.”

John laid his forearms on top of his desk and leaned closer. “What?”

Winnie's face crumpled and she dropped her head, great sobs shuddering through her body.

John rose, his instinct to heal coming to the forefront of his actions. “Nurse, could you please bring the children to a different room while I speak with Mrs. Jensen?”

“Of course.” Nurse Hendricks rose and lifted first one girl into her arms and then somehow managed to take the other. “Come, boys, I will show you where the cook keeps the cookie jar.”

One of the boys willingly went with Nurse Hendricks, but the other watched his mother cry, his own eyes filling with tears.

John took his clean handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Winnie, then ushered the second boy out of the room, closing the door softly.

He turned back to his friend. “Winnie, what's the matter?”

He hated to see her in such distress.

She looked wretched as she bent over, her body shaking. “It's awful! I don't know what I will do.”

John took his chair from behind his desk and brought it out to sit in front of her. He took her hand in his. “Are you sick? Is there something I can do for you?”

She looked up, and her brown eyes were awash in tears. “I didn't know where else to go. I have no family in town, and I have no money to travel back to Rhode Island to be with my father. I've been living on the kindness of neighbors and the church, but I don't know how much longer I can rely on them.”

John rubbed the top of her hand. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

The tears began again and she put her face into the handkerchief. “I'm pregnant.”

John sat up straight. “Pregnant?”

“I've been denying it for months. I suspected it when Calvin became sick—but I didn't have time to think much about it after he died—” Her sobs choked off her words.

John moved his chair so he was sitting beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. He couldn't imagine if Anna had been left to care for their four children. At least she would have had her mother and sister. Winnie was all alone.

She clutched his hand, her eyes wild with fear. “What if I have another set of twins?”

John patted her shoulder. “Don't borrow trouble, Winnie. You must take everything a day at a time. If you don't, you won't be able to bear it.”

“I can't.” She shook her head, a hiccup escaping her mouth. “I can't do this. It's too much.”

“What are your other options?” John pulled away from her and offered her a little space. “You must do what you're called to do.”

She wiped at her cheeks and bit her trembling lip. “I'm considering something drastic.”

“It's never a good idea to make a drastic decision when we're upset.”

“I'm thinking about offering up—” She began to cry again.

“Shh.” John tried to soothe her. “Winnie, I promise, everything will work out.”

“I'm thinking about giving some of my children up for adoption.”

“Adoption? You're not thinking straight.”

“But how will I provide for them? I have no means of income. My only option is to marry again, but who would want to marry a bereaved woman with five or six children, all under the age of four?” She stared at him, her face splotched and swollen.

John sat up straight. If Anna was still alive, she'd insist they help Winnie, and he liked to think that Calvin would have helped Anna in the same situation. But how?

“Will you help me, John?” Winnie reached out and took his hands. “I'm desperate. I can't go through this alone.”

“Is there anyone?”

“Anyone to do what?”

He lifted a shoulder. This was an uncomfortable conversation to have with a friend. If she had been a stranger, perhaps it wouldn't be so hard. He pulled his hands out of her grasp and stood. “Is there anyone who might...?”

“Marry me?” She also stood. “Who? The war, and now the influenza pandemic, has left no family untouched.” She wadded up the handkerchief. “I would not dream of being so presumptuous to ask...and it embarrasses me to even admit why I came here...”

She wanted John to marry her.

He took a step back and bumped into the desk. The list he had made earlier was still facedown, waiting for his attention. Winnie fit most of the criteria on the list, if not all—but she was Anna's friend, his friend—and she had four children to care for, more on the way. She was clearly overwhelmed with her responsibilities and her grief. Could she be a stable mother for his children?

Charlie, Lilly, Petey and Laura were John's first concern. He needed a woman who would love them like Anna had.

Was it Winnie?

“Winnie—”

“Don't say no right away.” She had stopped crying and was now looking at him with an intense gaze. “Please think about it, for me—for Calvin and Anna.”

What was the harm in thinking about her as a prospect? Before Calvin had died, Winnie was a happy young woman who was quick to laugh and offer help where needed. Maybe, when her grief subsided, she could be the mother his children needed.

Maybe.

“Would you and the children like to come for supper this week?” It was the very least he could do for an old friend. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

Her shoulders loosened, and she let out a long breath. “Thank you. We would love to come.”

“Wednesday night?”

She dabbed at her cheeks again, her hands shaking, and suddenly looked embarrassed. “I'm sorry about all this—”

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “You don't need to be sorry, Winnie. We're friends. I'm happy you came to me.”

She put one hand on his and offered him the faintest smile. “Thank you, John. I knew if anyone could understand, it would be you. I look forward to Wednesday.”

He nodded and opened the door for her. “Me, too.”

She walked down the hall toward the waiting room and looked over her shoulder one last time before he stepped back into his office.

He closed the door and stood for a moment. It wasn't enough that he was grieving his own loss, and treating dozens of patients who were dying every day, but he was also grieving the loss of friends.

He walked back to his desk and turned the sheet of paper over. Winnie might fit the criteria, but could he marry her? He would share a meal with her and get to know her better before making a final decision. If he didn't marry her, he would have to find some other way to help.

Miss Maren's smiling face suddenly appeared in his mind, and for some reason he couldn't identify, he was eager to get home and see her. Was it because he was worried she couldn't handle his four children, or was it because he longed for her cheery disposition right about now?

He surmised it was the former. Of course.

* * *

“You're sure she isn't married?” Marjorie put Laura on her other hip and leaned down to ask Lilly, “That one, over there?”

Lilly looked across the mercantile and nodded vigorously. “That's Miss Baker. She teaches Sunday school at church.”

After picking the two older children up from school, Marjorie had brought them downtown to see if she could spot anyone who might make a good bride for the doctor. She and Lilly had extended half a dozen invitations to their tea party in just an hour—and they were about to extend another.

Marjorie straightened and peered around the display of ladies' handkerchiefs. The woman in question was perusing a rack of sheet music, flipping through the songs in quick order. She wore a trim black coat and a jaunty purple hat, tilted just so on her brown curls.

Miss Baker must have sensed Marjorie's gaze, because she suddenly looked her way.

Marjorie smiled and took her cue to approach. “Come, Lilly, I'd like you to introduce me.”

Laura chewed on her bonnet strings, drool dripping down her chin and over the fist holding the strings, while Lilly walked beside Marjorie, her navy blue sailor coat and hat complementing her pretty blue eyes. Charlie had Petey in the corner of the store looking at a display of toy airplanes.

“Hello, Miss Baker,” Lilly said as they approached.

Miss Baker offered Lilly a smile, her whole face lighting with the gesture. She put her hand on Lilly's shoulder. “Hello, Lilly. Have you heard the war is over?”

Lilly nodded, a grin on her face, and looked up at Marjorie. “This is Miss Maren, my new governess.”

Marjorie extended her hand. “It's nice to meet you, I'm Marjorie Maren.”

Miss Baker shook Marjorie's hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you. I saw you in church on Sunday.” She laughed, and the sound made Marjorie warm to the young lady. “I saw you nodding off and I was jealous! Once, I came home with a black-and-blue mark from where my mother pinched me when I fell asleep in church, and I've never done it again.”

“I think Papa would have pinched Miss Maren, too, if he was close enough.” Lilly joined in the laughter.

Marjorie wasn't inclined to laugh with them, though she offered a complimentary smile. She still hadn't slept well since coming to the Ortons' and was barely standing upright at the moment. This was their last stop before going home and she wanted to be done with the chore. “We're going to have a tea party this Sunday after church and would like for you to join us.”