Gabrielle Meyer - A Mother In The Making

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?”