Gabrielle Meyer - A Mother In The Making

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

John 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.”