A Mother In The Making

Chapter Two

Marjorie stood in the water closet facing Petey. Laura was in her arms, chewing on her fist, and Lilly stood behind Marjorie quietly observing the scene.

Petey stared up at Marjorie with defiant blue eyes and she didn’t blame him.

First, he had lost his mother, and then he was presented with a strange woman who didn’t know the first thing about child care. How could she make him trust her—and feel comfortable in her presence?

She smiled—it was the only thing she could think to do.

He didn’t blink.

“I’m Miss Maren,” she said with a happy tone to her voice. “I’m here to take care of you.”

Still, he scowled at her.

“I need to help you out of your soiled clothes, and then I’ll give you a bath and put you in something clean.”

“His clothes are upstairs in his bedroom,” Lilly said. “Shall I get him something to wear?”

Marjorie could have sighed in relief. “Yes, thank you, Lilly.”

Laura began to whimper in Marjorie’s arms and she awkwardly bounced the baby to quiet her.

“I need to help you get your clothing off,” Marjorie said to Petey.

The boy took a step back and shook his head.

Laura’s whimper turned into a cry, close to Marjorie’s ear. She bounced her faster, but the baby refused to be soothed.

How would she hold the baby and take off Petey’s clothing?

“I’m going to put Laura in her cradle, and then I’m coming back here to help you. All right?”

Petey didn’t respond.

Marjorie turned from the water closet and stepped across the hall to the night nursery, where she placed Laura in her cradle. The baby’s cries increased at being set down, and Marjorie’s heart rate picked up speed. What would Dr. Orton think if this baby continued to cry? And how could she stop her? What did she need? Was she hungry? Was her diaper soiled?

She offered the baby a rattle lying in her cradle, but Laura cried even harder.

A flash of movement caught Marjorie’s eye.

Petey ran out of the water closet and down the hall toward the stairs.

Marjorie left the crying baby and rushed out of the room. Petey turned the corner and Marjorie raced after him. She grasped the little boy as he reached the stairway landing where the beautiful stained-glass window had caught Marjorie’s eye earlier. She held his arm to stop his escape and tried to sound calm. “We haven’t bathed you, Petey. You must wait for me.”

Laura’s wails filled the upper hall and met Marjorie on the stairway.

Petey tried to pull free from Marjorie’s grasp, his own whimpers filling her ears.

Heat gathered under Marjorie’s traveling gown, warming her neck and back until perspiration gathered. How would she get Petey back to the water closet? His clothing smelled of urine. If she lifted him, her dress would need to be cleaned, as well.

“Miss Maren?” Dr. Orton appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Do you need help?”

Petey reached for his father, but Marjorie held tight.

The doctor gave Marjorie a disapproving look. “It appears you are off to a poor start.”

Marjorie had little choice but to lift the child into her arms. His wet clothing penetrated hers, and she had to breathe through her mouth. “I’m fine.”

“Why is Laura crying? Does she need to be fed?”

Marjorie had no idea why Laura was crying—or what a person fed a hungry baby—but she couldn’t tell Dr. Orton. She was on trial. She couldn’t ruin her chances within the first half hour. “I have everything under control.”

“Are you sure?”

She wanted to glower at the doctor, but instead, she forced a tight smile and walked up the stairs with her head held high as Petey tried to wiggle out of her arms.

Laura’s cries were so pitiful Marjorie felt tears gather in the back of her own eyes. Did children always make such a fuss? As an only child, Marjorie had never been exposed to anything like this. Had she been this way for her own governess? It didn’t seem likely.

Marjorie entered the water closet and set Petey on his feet. The little boy tried to push past her, but she held her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I must get you clean and put new clothes on you.”

He backed up against the stand-up radiator under the window.

The reprieve gave Marjorie a moment to study his romper, her brow furrowed. There were far too many buttons. If Petey didn’t cooperate, she had no idea how she would get the wet clothing off his wiggly body.

“Mama used to sing to him while she changed his clothes,” Lilly said, suddenly standing at the door.

Marjorie turned to the girl with a bit of desperation. “What did she sing?”

Lilly shrugged and set the clean romper and underclothes on a bureau near the door. “Church hymns, mostly.” The girl went to the bathtub and turned on the water faucet. “It takes a few minutes for the hot water to travel up the pipe from the basement. Mama always used the time to gather her bathing supplies.” Lilly went to the bureau and pulled out a clean towel and washcloth.

Petey stopped squirming and watched his sister work.

Lilly stepped onto the closed toilet seat and reached for a bar of pink soap, high on the top shelf. She paused for a moment, her hand hovering over the soap. “Petey always asked Mama if he could use her rose-scented soap, but she usually said no because it was a gift Papa gave her.” She looked at Petey, and a tender gaze passed between them before she grabbed the soap. “It makes us feel close to her.”

Petey stood still and dropped his little chin down to his chest.

Lilly set the soap on the towel and then began to hum “Onward, Christian Soldiers” as she unbuttoned Petey’s romper.

Marjorie’s heart broke for the children—but Laura’s wails continued to fill the house, sending gooseflesh racing up Marjorie’s arms.

“Laura needs a bottle and a diaper change.” Lilly looked up at Marjorie, blinking her blue, trusting eyes. “Do you know how to do those things?”

Marjorie wanted to sit on the rug and throw her hands up in defeat. Maybe being a governess was a bad idea—but she couldn’t give up now. She refused to leave another job unfinished. She wouldn’t let her father’s parting words define her. You’re a quitter, Marjorie, and you’ll never change.

“No, but I’m a good student.” Marjorie unbuttoned her sleeves and began to roll them up to her elbows. “Do you know how to make a bottle and change a diaper?”

Lilly nodded and slipped Petey’s romper off his body, her young arms working with an air of confidence Marjorie wished she possessed. “You can bathe Petey, and I’ll see to Laura’s diaper—you do know how to wash someone, don’t you?”

Here, at least, was something Marjorie did know how to do. “Yes, of course—I bathe myself all the time.” She looked toward the room across the hall. “But how will I learn to change her if I’m in here?”

Lilly giggled and the sound was a welcome change from the wailing baby. “She’ll need to be changed again in a few hours. You can learn then.” She reached into the tub and put the plug in the drain.

“Is Petey old enough to talk?” Marjorie asked as she set the boy into the water.

“Of course he is.” Lilly shook her head. “Don’t you know anything about children?”

Marjorie couldn’t tell her the truth—though she suspected the girl already knew. “I have a lot to learn, but you look like a good teacher.”

Lilly’s shoulders lifted at the compliment. “I’ll change Laura and then when you have Petey clean I’ll help you make her a bottle.”

Marjorie smiled at Lilly. “Thank you.”

The girl stepped out of the water closet and Marjorie turned to her next task, determined to do this job well.

She would not be sent back to Chicago.

* * *

An hour later, Marjorie opened her trunk lid and surveyed the gowns piled haphazardly inside.

“Your clothes are lovely,” Lilly breathed beside Marjorie as they stood in the governess’s bedroom. The little girl ran her hand over a purple silk gown.

The governess’s room was surprisingly large, with a fireplace, cheery floral wallpaper, soft white curtains and two generous windows overlooking the front yard. Two doors exited the room, one to the hallway and one to the night nursery, where Laura was finally napping in her cradle.

Marjorie glanced down at her soiled traveling gown, memories of cleaning Petey still fresh in her mind. Thankfully the exhausted little boy was now napping. Marjorie wished she could rest herself, but she needed to unpack, and for the first time in her life there was no maid to do the chore for her.

“I’ve only seen dresses like this in my aunt Dora’s Vogue Magazine,” Lilly said. “Where did you wear them?”

“I didn’t get a chance to wear many of them—although I did wear this one.” Marjorie lifted out the exquisite green dress she had worn to her debutante ball in June of 1917, the day she had met Preston. It had been one of the last debutante balls in Chicago after the United States had entered the war. In June, the young men began to ship out of the city, on their way to fight, and a somber mood had fallen on the country. Instead of dancing and partying, Marjorie had filled her time volunteering for the Red Cross—and entertaining Preston.

After he made his intentions known, her parents insisted that Marjorie allow him to court her. She was eager to finally please them, so she agreed.

Preston was everything her parents had hoped for. With his wealth, success and good connections, it was supposed to be the match of the year. But by the time she realized Preston did not love her, it was too late to call the wedding off, and she was forced to leave him at the altar.

Lilly sat on the bed and grasped the brass knob on the footboard. She studied Marjorie, her pretty blue eyes filled with a bit of uncertainty. “Do you have any work dresses?”

Marjorie examined her trunk and put her hand on her chin. She had led a charmed life in Chicago and had very few serviceable dresses to begin with. She hadn’t thought to put any of them in her luggage when she packed so hastily. “I’m afraid not. I suppose I’ll have to make do with what I have.”

Lilly shrugged. “I don’t mind if you wear these pretty dresses.”

Marjorie walked the dress across the room and hung it in the large wardrobe against the wall. She put it in the back, since she would have no use for it until she reached California.

Just thinking about the movies caused a trill of excitement to race up Marjorie’s spine, and she paused for a moment. Nothing else had brought her as much joy during the past few years as the movie theater, and she wanted to bring the same happiness into other people’s lives. If she could help them forget about their troubles, even for a little while, it would be worth all the hard work to get there.

Lilly lifted her finger to her mouth and nibbled on her nail. “Papa might not like you in those dresses, though. I don’t think I ever saw Mama wear anything like them.”

Marjorie’s attention returned to her task, and she took another gown out of the trunk, this one a soft muslin morning dress. She paused. “What was your mother like?”

Lilly’s face filled with sadness and she dropped her gaze. “She was wonderful.”

Marjorie lowered the gown and sat next to the girl. “You must miss her very much.”

Lilly nodded but didn’t speak.

“I’m sure she would be very proud of how you’re helping take care of Laura and Petey.”

“Mama was very gentle and kind. She was never angry.”

“And what of your father?”

Lilly lifted her shoulder and toyed with a loose thread on the quilt. “Papa wasn’t home much before Mama died. He was usually gone by the time we came down for breakfast, and he often came home after Mama put us to bed.”

“But he’s home more now?”

Lilly nodded.

“Do you like having him home?”

Again, the girl nodded. “I like it very much—but I’m afraid that since you’ve come, he might go back to working as much as before.”

“Did your mother ever ask him to stay home more?”

“Mama always said we must never complain about how much he worked. She said he was a doctor, and doctors needed to make people well. Her father was a doctor, too, and she said it was our job to sacrifice so they could do their work.”

Marjorie wanted to deny what the girl said. Yes, Dr. Orton had a demanding job, but his family should not have to suffer because of it.

More than anything, Marjorie had wanted her own father present in her life when she was a child. He had always used his work as his excuse—and Mother had never pushed him to be present.

Indignation rose in Marjorie’s gut. If Dr. Orton could make time to be home with his family now, surely he could have made time before his wife died.

Marjorie looked off toward the window where the November landscape looked bleak against a pale blue sky. What kind of woman would Dr. Orton choose for his second wife? Would she be as compliant as the first Mrs. Orton? Would she keep quiet as he sacrificed his family? In the few minutes Marjorie had spent with him, she could tell he was authoritative and probably ruled with a stubborn set of principles—just like Marjorie’s father. He needed a woman who wouldn’t be afraid to stand up to him and tell him when he was being too rigid.

Someone she wished her mother had been.

But was Dr. Orton capable of finding someone like that?

An excited bubble fluttered through Marjorie’s midsection—the same feeling she had every time she was about to undertake a new project. But this time, she wouldn’t leave the task half-completed. She would finally finish something she started. She would find a new wife for Dr. Orton—and she would make sure the woman he married was exactly who the doctor and his children needed.

Marjorie could almost picture the lady in her mind now. She would be bold, vivacious and charming. She would stand up to the doctor when she needed to, and be an excellent mother to the children. Hopefully she was pretty and would look nice standing next to the handsome Dr. Orton—but that was a secondary concern for Marjorie.

As soon as she had a moment, she would make a list of all the attributes Dr. Orton’s second wife should possess—and the first item on her list would be whimsical. He didn’t need a practical woman. Practical women forced their daughters into practical marriages and didn’t leave room for things like love and romance. He needed someone who would be his opposite, to balance his personality.

Clearly Dr. Orton needed help with this important endeavor, and Marjorie was in a position to help him.

“Don’t worry, Lilly.” Marjorie stood and lifted the muslin gown in her hands once again. She walked to the wardrobe and hung the dress inside. “I have a feeling your father will be around the house much more now that I’m here.” She would make sure of it...somehow.

“Really?”

“Why don’t you run along and play? I have some work to do this afternoon.”

Lilly stood obediently and crossed the room to the door. “I like you, Miss Maren.”

Marjorie paused and smiled. “I like you, too, Lilly.”

A bit of Lilly’s sadness seemed to disappear. She slipped out of the room and left the door open.

A new face peeked around the door and then disappeared just as quickly.

Marjorie walked across the room. “Charlie?”

After a moment, Charlie appeared in her doorway, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes lowered to the floor. “Hello, Miss Maren.”

She hadn’t seen him since he took her bag. “It’s nice to see you again.”

He dug his toe into the plush carpet and wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I brought you something.”

“A gift?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Something like that.”

“I love gifts—how did you know?”

Again, he shrugged. “Most girls like gifts—at least my mama and Lilly do. Or did—my mama, I mean.”

The corners of Marjorie’s mouth tipped down. She couldn’t imagine losing her mother as a child. What a horrible experience for these children to endure. Maybe, along with finding a new wife for Dr. Orton, God had brought Marjorie to this home to bring some life and enjoyment into these children’s lives. “Have you ever been to a movie theater?”

That got his attention. Charlie looked up. “No.”

“Would you like to go? Maybe to a matinee?” She didn’t have any money to bring them, but surely Dr. Orton would give her an allowance to spend on the children’s activities.

Charlie’s eyes lit with excitement. “Could we?”

Marjorie nodded. “I’ll even ask your father to come.”

The excitement disappeared from his gaze. “He won’t take the time to come. Especially now that you’re here to take care of us, and he’s so busy with all the influenza patients.”

Marjorie nibbled on her bottom lip. There had to be a way to get Dr. Orton to have some fun with his children. “You leave your father to me.” She offered him a smile. “Didn’t you have a gift to give me?”

The tops of Charlie’s ears turned red and he brought his right hand out from behind his back. Nestled inside his palm was a dried rosebud. “My mama has a rose garden behind the house. This was from the last bush that bloomed this past summer—before she was sick. Mama and I picked the roses, and she showed me how to hang them upside down to let them dry.”

Charlie extended his hand, and Marjorie gently took the rosebud.

“Charlie—” Her voice caught. “This is a beautiful gift. But are you sure you want me to have it?”

Charlie nodded. “I have others. I just thought—” He let out a breath and put his hands in his pockets. “I thought, since you didn’t know my mama, you might like to have something she loved here in the house with you.”

Marjorie swallowed another lump of emotion. “Thank you. I will keep this on my bureau so I can look at it often. But this isn’t the only thing in the house that she loved. You, Lilly, Petey, Laura and your papa are all examples of things she loved dearly.”

Charlie lifted his gaze and his expression softened. Without a word, he turned and left Marjorie alone.

She stood in her doorway for a moment and fingered the delicate rosebud. It might have been plucked from life too early, but its beauty would live on—just as Anna Orton would do in her family.

Chapter Three

John sat in his home office and pulled a fresh sheet of paper out of his desk drawer. Now that he had secured a governess—even a temporary one—he could turn his attention to the next order of business on his to-do list: find a wife.

He numbered the page from one to ten. Before he started his search, he would have a clear idea of what he was looking for. He was a man who liked to plan every aspect of his life and this important list would be the backbone for his quest.

John put his pen to the page and wrote in bold letters the first thing that came to his mind: practical.

His second wife would be practical, just as Anna had been. He pulled her portrait out of his desk and studied it, recalling all the things he loved about her. Anna’s attributes would fill numerous pieces of paper.

But how many attributes could she have written about him? Wasn’t the picture in his hands proof of his many flaws?

She had asked him for a family portrait after Laura was born, but he had kept putting it off, telling her he was too busy. The last picture he had of his wife, besides their wedding photo, was this one, taken just before they were married eleven years ago.

John traced the photo with his fingertip. She had looked so young and vibrant before the cares of his medical practice and motherhood had wrinkled the edges of her eyes and created a few white hairs along her temples. Oh, how she had fussed about those hairs. But they had been a reminder to him of all her hard work and the life they were creating together. Though she had aged, she had only grown more beautiful to him.

He just wished he had taken the time for a family photo. The children did not have a picture with their mother, and he did not have a final image of how she looked just before she was called to heaven.

It was a harsh reminder of how he had failed his wife. He should have been home more—especially when she was sick—but he had been out of town attending a patient when Anna died.

A knock at the office door captured his attention and he gladly put the photo back in his desk drawer. “Yes?”

“Dinner is served,” Mrs. Gohl said. “The children and Miss Maren are seated.”

John put aside his list for now and pushed himself up from his desk chair with a heavy sigh.

Miss Maren was not what he had planned. But it appeared he was stuck with her—at least for the next two months.

John stepped out of his office and found Mrs. Gohl waiting for him.

“Dr. McCall phoned and said they had half a dozen new cases of influenza arrive at the hospital since last night.” Mrs. Gohl wrung her work-worn hands together. Though the wave of illnesses had subsided from the initial impact that had arrived at the beginning of October—and taken Anna’s life—there were still more cases reported every day. “He asked if you could go to the hospital after supper to consult with him.”

It would be another long night. He would have to put off his list making until he returned home. Maybe tomorrow at church he could start the search. He really had no idea what his prospects were, since he had not considered another woman since he had laid eyes on Anna for the first time.

John nodded his thanks to Mrs. Gohl and then walked through the front hall to the dining room.

Miss Maren sat at Anna’s regular spot.

John paused in the doorway, his stunned gaze riveted on her. “What are you wearing, Miss Maren?”