Читать книгу A Mother In The Making - Gabrielle Meyer - Страница 11

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?”

The governess held Laura on her lap and moved the baby aside to look down at her luxurious dress. She glanced back at John, innocence in her gaze. “It’s just a simple evening gown.”

The dress in question was definitely not simple. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too fancy for a quiet family meal?”

Lilly hid a giggle behind her hand, and Charlie opened his mouth to comment—but John silenced both of them with a look.

“It’s all I have,” said Miss Maren.

“You have nothing less...ostentatious?” Or attractive?

She shook her head. Laura reached for the silverware, and Miss Maren gently pulled her hand away. “This is what I wore for meals at home.”

He cleared his throat, trying to avert his eyes from the beautiful woman seated at his table. “Meals in this home are much less formal.” He took his seat and Petey jumped off his chair and ran around the table. John lifted the boy into his arms while he addressed Miss Maren. “I must ask you to put on something more...suitable.”

Miss Maren’s free hand slipped up to her neck and hovered over the exposed skin. “I only have one other evening gown—and it’s not much different.”

“She’s right,” Lilly said. “I saw her dresses.”

He ran his finger around his collar, suddenly feeling a bit awkward having this conversation. He tried not to stare as he lifted his hand and indicated her dress. “Surely you have something else you could wear.”

“I suppose I could put on one of my morning gowns—but it’s hardly the thing to wear for sup—”

“Does it show so much skin?” His voice sounded much gruffer than he intended.

She had the decency to blush.

Miss Ernst entered the dining room with a steaming tureen of tomato soup and must have sensed the tension in the room. Her green eyes darted to Miss Maren and then back to John. Red hair stuck out in disarray behind her white maid’s cap, and a spot of soup stained her apron.

“It will take me a moment to change,” said Miss Maren.

“We’ll wait.”

Miss Ernst set the soup on the sideboard just as Miss Maren stood and handed the baby to her.

Miss Maren exited the room and John couldn’t help watching her leave.

No one said a word until she returned ten minutes later in a modest gown—though this one was made of a gauzy material, and just as impractical as the first. She took Laura from the maid’s hands and sat quietly in her seat.

John said grace and then Miss Ernst ladled the soup into everyone’s bowls. The savory scent spiraled into the air making John’s stomach growl.

They ate in silence for a few moments, and then Miss Maren spoke. “Lilly has been a great help today with Petey and Laura.”

John looked at his eight-year-old daughter, always the mother of the group, especially since Anna had died. “Thank you, Lilly. Did you show her how to make Laura’s bottles as I instructed with the infant formula?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Good.” John smiled approval at his daughter. “But I expect Miss Maren to do the work from here on out.”

Lilly nodded.

John handed Petey a dinner roll and then dipped his spoon into his soup.

Miss Maren spoke again. “I’d like to have a party.”

John’s spoon fell into his soup, splashing the white tablecloth with the red liquid. “A what?”

Miss Maren lifted her spoon to her lips and sipped on her soup. When she was done she offered him a dimpled smile. “A tea party.”

“Why?”

“I’d like to see the prospects.”

Charlie and Lilly looked between John and Miss Maren, their interested gazes never dropping.

John frowned at the strange woman. “What prospects?”

Miss Maren opened her mouth and then closed it again, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. Finally she pulled Laura’s hand away from the silverware again and spoke. “I’d like to make some friends. I thought I would host a tea party to do so.”

The older children swiveled their gazes to John.

“I don’t have much experience with governesses,” John said. “But I’ve never heard of one hosting a tea party.”

Miss Maren lifted her free hand with an air of nonchalance. “There’s always a first for everything.”

“I didn’t employ a socialite. I employed a governess. Your first priority is not to entertain—but to take care of my children.”

“I would never neglect my duties, if that’s what you mean. I will host the party on my day off—I do get a day off, don’t I?”

“Of course. Sundays.”

“Then I will plan the party for next Sunday. May I use the parlor?”

Petey squirmed in John’s lap, and John put his hand on his son’s knee to steady him. “I still haven’t decided if you should have the party.”

The children looked at Miss Maren.

“It would be an educational opportunity for Lilly,” the governess said. “What better way to teach her social graces? You do want her to learn how to be a hostess someday, don’t you?”

“Of course—”

“Then it’s settled.” Miss Maren sipped her soup once again.

He hadn’t given permission—but one look at Lilly’s face, and he knew his daughter loved the idea. How could he say no? “Fine.”

“Who will you invite?” Lilly asked.

Miss Maren dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Anyone I think who would make a good match for...” She paused.

Lilly waited for a moment and then asked, “A good match for what?”

Again, Miss Maren looked unsure if she should say something, and John was growing weary of this conversation. “You and Lilly may discuss your plans away from the dinner table.”

Miss Maren’s green eyes sparkled in triumph—until Laura grabbed her spoon and splattered red soup down the front of Miss Maren’s delicate gown.

Maybe now she would understand why practical clothing was needed in his home.

John waited until Miss Ernst helped clean up the mess, and then he spoke again. “After supper I’m going to the hospital. I probably won’t return until it’s time to bring the children to church in the morning. See that they are put to bed by seven thirty. If you have any trouble, ask Mrs. Gohl or Miss Ernst for assistance.”

Miss Maren took Laura’s hand off her buttered bread, a sigh on her lips. “I’ll do my very best.”

He hoped her very best was good enough.

* * *

Marjorie’s head dropped toward her chest—but she snapped it up and blinked her burning eyes several times to stay awake. She needed to use this time as she listened to the sermon to study the ladies in the congregation. Maybe one or two might be suitable for Dr. Orton.

Her eyes started to droop again, but she fought the exhaustion and lifted her head.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dr. Orton glance at her—but if it was with sympathy or disapproval, she couldn’t tell.

She sat between Lilly and Charlie on the family pew, with Laura asleep in her lap. Dr. Orton sat beside Lilly, with Petey on his lap.

Though Marjorie tried, she could not keep her eyes open. Laura had woken up at least half a dozen times through the long night, demanding Marjorie’s attention. Marjorie’s only consolation had been the knowledge that Dr. Orton was at the hospital and could not hear his daughter fussing. Surely he would have been angry that she didn’t know how to quiet the baby.

Now Laura slept peacefully—and Marjorie wished she could join her.

The pastor droned on and on...

Lilly poked Marjorie in the rib and whispered, “You fell asleep.”

Marjorie’s cheeks flamed with heat. What would Dr. Orton think of her, falling asleep in church when she should be listening to the reverend?

She readjusted her position, trying not to disturb Laura. Her neck and back ached, but she dared not try to rub out the knots.

The sermon finally ended and they rose for the closing song.

Marjorie stole a look around the crowded church. Colorful stained-glass windows allowed a muted light to fall on the congregation, and she was happy to see so many young women in attendance. Surely someone in this room would make a good wife for her employer.

Dr. Orton’s gaze lingered over the congregation, as well. Was he also surveying his prospects? He had an advantage over Marjorie, since he already knew which of these ladies were single.

The final song ended, and the family moved out of the pew. Marjorie turned just in time to see Mrs. Scott marching up the aisle, pushing aside anyone who stood in her way.

Marjorie couldn’t hide her groan.

Mrs. Scott pointed her finger at Marjorie. “What kind of example are you? Falling asleep in church.”

“Laura was awake all night—”

“Excuses, excuses—”

“Laura is teething,” Dr. Orton said in Marjorie’s defense as he stepped out of the pew with Petey in his arms. “And Miss Maren was put to work immediately after her long journey. I imagine she’s exhausted.”

Marjorie blinked up at him in surprise. He wasn’t angry at her lack of propriety during the service?

Mrs. Scott appeared to ignore Dr. Orton as she turned to the young woman walking up the aisle behind her in a black mourning gown. “Dora, what is taking you so long?”

The young lady looked exactly like the picture Marjorie had seen of Anna Orton, although Miss Dora Scott was probably ten years younger than Anna.

“Hello, John,” Dora said with a gentle smile. She put her gloved hand under Lilly’s chin, her cheeks filled with a healthy glow. “Hello, dear.”

Lilly wrapped her arms around her aunt’s waist, and Petey reached for her from Dr. Orton’s arms.

Dora took the little boy and snuggled him close.

“It’s nice to see you, Dora.” Dr. Orton smiled at his sister-in-law.

Dora turned her pretty blue eyes to Marjorie—eyes the exact shade of the children’s. “And you must be the new governess, Miss Maren.”

Marjorie extended her hand and Dora took it. “I’m pleased to meet you,” Marjorie said.

“We’re going to have a tea party.” Lilly clapped her hands. “And Miss Maren has said I will help her plan the whole event.”

“How nice,” Dora said. “You will have such fun. I love tea parties.”

“A tea party?” Mrs. Scott tsked. “How utterly ridiculous. Whoever heard of a governess hosting a tea party? What will people think, John? It would be one thing if you had a wife in the house to act as hostess—but the governess? People will think she’s taking on the role of mistress of your home.”

Marjorie’s chest filled with embarrassment. “I have no such intentions—”

“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.