Читать книгу A Mother In The Making - Gabrielle Meyer - Страница 13

Chapter Five

John stalled the engine of his Model T and opened his door, grabbing his medical bag as he exited the vehicle. He kept his gaze on his home as he strode up the fieldstone path, through Anna’s dormant rose garden and onto the back stoop.

No doubt Miss Maren would have the children seated at the dining table, awaiting his arrival. He had told her he would be home at six o’clock, and it was now ten minutes past the hour.

His discussion with her would have to wait until after supper ended. The dining room, with four children listening, would not be the best place.

He stomped the snow and mud off his shoes and pushed open the heavy oak door, shaking snowflakes from his hat and coat as he passed into the back hall.

The aroma of pot roast and simmering root vegetables greeted him upon arrival. He paused for a moment to inhale a whiff of the delicious scents. If his nose didn’t deceive him, there would also be spiced cake for dessert. His favorite.

John set his medical bag on the back hall table and then paused. A strange sound filled his ears. It was a combination of thumping and grinding, followed by...laughter. Children’s laughter—and Miss Maren’s.

He took off his overcoat and set it on the hook next to his fedora.

“I won,” called Lilly.

“You didn’t beat me,” Charlie said. “I won, just like last time.”

Lilly’s joyful laughter seeped through the door. “You’re a sore loser, Charlie. Don’t you like to be beat by a girl?”

“Let’s go again.”

How long had it been since he’d heard his children sound so carefree? He paused, reveling in the moment, and yet—it didn’t quite seem right to be so happy with Anna gone.

“All right, children,” Miss Maren said. “On your mark, get set...go!”

The same thumping resumed, this time coming closer to the back hall, and then moving farther away.

What in the world?

John opened the door and stopped short.

Miss Maren stood near the front door in a filmy pink gown, her blond curls piled high on her head. Her cheeks were rosy red and her green eyes shone.

She saw him standing in the doorway and grinned, the ever-present dimples gracing him with their appearance. “Hello, Dr. Orton.”

Lilly and Charlie halted on their trek down the front hall in their roller skates and sheepishly turned to look his way.

“Hello, Papa,” Lilly said with a squeak.

Mrs. Gohl stood just inside the dining room, a smile on her face. The moment John looked at her, the smile dropped and she scurried off to the kitchen.

“Miss Maren—” He couldn’t find the right words to convey his astonishment. What had she been thinking? The children had a nursery filled with toys—why were they scuffing up the front hall with their roller skates?

“They should sleep well tonight,” Miss Maren said, a triumphant look on her face. She cocked a wry eyebrow. “I wish I could say the same for Laura.”

“What is the meaning of this?” John finally demanded. “Why are my children riding roller skates in the house?”

Miss Maren looked toward the window and waved her hand. “Because it’s snowing outside.”

“I know it’s snowing outside—but what does that have to do with my children roller-skating inside?”

“Surely you wouldn’t want them roller skating outside right now, would you?”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t see why they need to roller-skate at all.”

Her expression became perplexed. “Because they’re required to spend an hour in physical activity every day, and they chose roller-skating.”

Charlie and Lilly hadn’t moved a muscle as they stared at John, and he recalled his earlier decision about reprimanding Miss Maren in private. “Children, take off your roller skates and prepare for supper.”

“Are we in trouble?” Charlie asked.

They knew better, even if Miss Maren did not. “Yes—”

“No,” said Miss Maren.

Lilly and Charlie looked at one another, their own confusion evident in their tilted eyebrows. Anna had never contradicted John in front of the children.

Never.

John looked at the governess, his voice as even as he could manage. “Please join me in my office.”

Miss Maren still looked a bit bewildered, but she nodded her assent and followed him across the hall and into his domain.

When they were both inside, he closed the door. “Have a seat.”

She clasped her hands in front of her gown and sat in the chair he indicated. Her dress was covered in lace and looked as out of place in his home as the lady who wore it. Anna had only dressed in such a fashion on rare occasions when they went out in the evening. Why Miss Maren dressed this way was a riddle to John—but he wished she would stop. It was far too difficult not to notice how attractive she was when she looked like this.

“Have I done something wrong?” she asked, her eyes beseeching him.

He took a seat at his desk. “Maybe the question I should ask is if you’ve done something right today—” The moment the words left his mouth, he wished he could retrieve them. “I apologize. That was unnecessary.”

Miss Maren’s innocent expression fell and her face was filled with pain. “What have I done?”

He hated to see the pain he had caused her—but he needed to address his concerns. “I have three grievances I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Three?”

“I had an interesting phone call from Mrs. Kingston this afternoon.”

Miss Maren’s mouth opened in surprise. “Did she really call you? I didn’t believe Charlie and Lilly when they told me she would.” She put her hand up to cover a giggle. “Doesn’t the woman have anything better to do?”

John wasn’t laughing.

She sat up straighter and her giggle disappeared.

“She said my children were running about the streets, acting like hooligans.”

Miss Maren’s brow jumped. “Hooligans? They weren’t causing any problems. They were just catching snowflakes on their tongues.”

“Mrs. Kingston said when she approached you to deal with them, you mocked her.”

“Mocked—?” She looked stunned.

John had never met a woman with such vivid expressions.

“I didn’t mock her, I simply told her the children were having fun catching snowflakes and she should try it sometime.”

John wanted to groan. “Mrs. Kingston is a very important member of Little Falls society, and when she’s displeased with you, everyone is displeased with you. If she had a mind to, she could easily destroy my medical practice with a few flicks of her tongue.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

It was, but John wasn’t in a place to change the intricate societal web Mrs. Kingston had spun. “If you are still planning to have the tea party with Lilly on Sunday, I’d advise you to make a call on Mrs. Kingston in the morning and apologize for any misunderstanding.”

“Me?” She pointed at her chest. “Apologize?”

“I will not have Lilly’s heart broken when no one comes to your party.”

“Would people really snub me because of Mrs. Kingston’s opinion?”

John leaned forward, wanting to make himself clear. “Yes. Don’t you have women like her in Chicago?”

Miss Maren’s heavy expression filled with more pain. “Of course we do.” She sat for a moment, as if contemplating her options.

“There’s nothing to think about,” John said. “Either you apologize to Mrs. Kingston, or your plans for the party will be ruined—and Lilly will be devastated. I cannot allow that to happen.”

“I would never want to hurt Lilly.”

“Then you’ll go?”

She nodded, her face sincere. “Right after I drop Lilly and Charlie off at school.”

“Good—now for the other items we need to discuss.”

She sighed. “What other transgressions have I committed that I’m unaware of?”

“Mrs. Kingston—”

She unclasped her hands. “Mrs. Kingston, again—?”

“Mrs. Kingston,” he said slowly, “told me you had come out of the mercantile.”

“And?”

“What were you doing in the mercantile? Or downtown for that matter?”

She closed her mouth and didn’t answer, studying him as if to gauge his response to an unspoken confession.

“Miss Maren?”

“Where’s the harm in going downtown?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“But it’s a legitimate question. Isn’t it my job to exercise the children and expose them to things outside this home?”

John stood suddenly. “That’s the problem.” He walked over to the mantel and looked at the portrait he had set there the previous night. Anna’s picture reminded him of the dangers just outside their door. “I don’t want them exposed to anything. We still have a disease running rampant through the state. I had considered bringing a tutor into the home to teach the children, and keep them out of school, but they’ve already been through so much that I didn’t want to upend their entire lives.” He turned and looked at her. “I don’t want them unnecessarily exposed to the general public.”

“But they’re taking their cinnamon oil—and aren’t they exposed at church and—”

“Those places are necessary. The mercantile is not.” He walked closer to her and sat on the edge of his desk, his hands on either side of him. “Now tell me why you were there.”

She hesitated.

“Miss Maren, I am losing patience.”

“I was inviting ladies to the tea party.”

He frowned. What was her fascination with this tea party? Was she really that desperate for friends, even though she would be leaving soon? “For now, I do not want my children taken out in public, unless absolutely necessary.”

She nodded and folded her hands in her lap once again. “And the third grievance?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

She shrugged in her nonchalant sort of way. “Apparently not.”

“My children are not allowed to ride their roller skates inside the house.” She opened her mouth—but he put up his hand. “Never.”

She let out a long sigh. “Very well. Is that all?”

“For now.”

He had a sneaky suspicion this would not be the end of his grievances toward her.

* * *

A soft floor lamp glowed in the corner of Marjorie’s bedroom as she sat at the secretary and looked over the list of ladies she had invited to the tea party on Sunday. She yawned as she absentmindedly ran a brush through her blond curls and reviewed each name, studying the notes she had written beside them.

So far, Miss Baker and Miss Addams, the owner of the millinery, were the forerunners in Marjorie’s mind—but she’d had so little time to get to know either one that it was hard to tell. If everyone came to tea, there would be fifteen ladies to choose from. She intended to use the party as a place to weed out the undesirable prospects.

But, for now, her bed beckoned. She stopped brushing her hair and offered up a simple prayer. “Please, Lord. Let Laura sleep through the night.”

A gentle knock sounded at her door.

She tossed her curls over her shoulder and set the brush down on the desk. Her wrapper was draped over the footboard, so she picked it up and slipped it on. No doubt one of the children needed something, though all four of them had been in bed for an hour. Hopefully Petey hadn’t had another nightmare.

Marjorie opened her door and then abruptly closed it again.

“Miss Maren?” Dr. Orton stood in the hallway, probably bewildered by her abrupt greeting—or lack of one.

She touched her hair and closed her robe. Why had he come to her room? Since she had arrived, he had not even walked past her room. Marjorie opened the door once again—just a crack. “Yes?”

He stood in the dark hall, holding a children’s book in his hands, his tired face outlined in the shadows. He studied her for a moment and then looked down at the book, swallowing a few times before he spoke. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I just got called into the hospital and I will be leaving for the night.”

She opened the door a little wider, concern softening her voice. “But you’ve only been home for three hours. When will you get some rest?”

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He lifted his brown eyes and shrugged. “Hopefully in the morning, though I might catch a few minutes of sleep on a cot in my office tonight, if I get a chance.”

“But aren’t you at a higher risk of getting sick if your body is exhausted?”

The weary lines of his face disappeared and he offered her a tender smile.

The gesture took Marjorie by surprise and made her close the door just a hair more.

“That’s usually what I tell my patients, but I’m not known for taking my own advice.” He lifted the book and extended it toward her. It was a copy of Peter Pan and Wendy. “I was just reading this to Petey. He came into my office crying after another bad dream. I read to him until he fell asleep and then I put him in my bed.” He lifted the book higher and nodded to her to take it. “In case he wakes up again.”

Marjorie took the book from Dr. Orton and hugged it to her chest. “Will you be home in the morning before the children go to school?”

He slipped his hands in his pockets and shook his head. His eyes followed the outline of her face and he cleared his throat. “I don’t think so. Dr. McCall lost two patients this evening and needs to go home and rest, so I’ll be there until he can relieve me. I told him to take all the time he needs.” He took a step back. “Good night, Miss Maren.” He paused and offered her another smile. “Thank you—and be sure to give the children their cinnamon oil in the morning.”

Marjorie closed her bedroom door and leaned against it for a moment, the book still warm from his touch. It was a few heartbeats before she heard him walk away from her door.

The man was a study in extremes. He could be hard and demanding—yet gentle and kind. He disciplined his children with a rigid set of ideals, yet they ran to him for comfort and acceptance.

For the first time, she genuinely liked him.

Another yawn overtook her, and her eyes watered from its force. She dragged her feet across the room and switched off the floor lamp. She would think about the good doctor in the morning when she had control over her thoughts and emotions.

She slipped Peter Pan onto her nightstand and took off her wrapper. She kicked her slippers off and pulled back the covers. With a sigh, she climbed between the sheets and allowed every muscle in her body to relax as she sank deep into the mattress.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as a soft smile tilted her lips. Bed had never felt better in her life.

Laura’s whimper drifted into Marjorie’s bedroom.

Marjorie’s eyes opened. “Please, no,” she whispered into the dark room.

She held her breath as the baby quieted. The ticking of the hall clock was the only sound.

Marjorie let out the breath and closed her eyes again—but this time Laura’s unmistakable cries filled the night.

Marjorie flipped onto her stomach and pulled the pillow over her head. “No,” she fairly cried. Why couldn’t the baby sleep for longer than two hours at a time?

Laura’s cries grew in intensity and Marjorie finally pushed the covers back and practically fell out of the warm bed. Her slippers were somewhere in the abyss of darkness, and her wrapper had fallen off the end of the bed and was probably pooled on the floor.

She flipped on the light, frustration making her movements quick and awkward. If she didn’t quiet Laura, Lilly would soon be awake, followed by Petey, and then she’d be up much longer reading to the little boy to put him back to sleep.

Marjorie quickly located her slippers and tossed her wrapper on as she exited her room and tiptoed into the nursery. Lilly’s bed was against the far wall, where a swatch of moonlight filtered into the room in an elongated rectangle from the window. The girl was still asleep.

Laura’s cries grew louder and Marjorie’s own eyes filled with tears. She just wanted to sleep.

Marjorie arrived at the cradle and peeked over the edge. Laura’s face was scrunched up and she was wailing at the top of her lungs.

“Shh,” Marjorie whispered, jostling the cradle.

Laura immediately quieted and her eyes opened. She looked at Marjorie and a sweet smile lifted her chubby cheeks, a coo bubbling from her mouth.