A Mother in the Making

by Gabrielle Meyer

  She didn’t want to be at the hotel alone. She wanted to return with them, but everything she said was true. John would soon marry Mrs. Worthington and she would have to say goodbye. Why prolong the agony? John had said it was time for her to leave. With all that had happened, it was for the best. He couldn’t trust her, and she didn’t blame him.

  Marjorie walked back to her room and closed the door. She flipped off the lights and curled up in a ball on her bed. The carolers were still singing. “Joy to the World” lifted to her room and Marjorie drifted off to sleep, feeling no joy at the moment.

  * * *

  John woke with a start. Sunshine poured in the window, revealing a glistening world covered in icicles and over a foot of fresh snow. A bright blue sky glowed overhead with not a cloud in sight.

  It was Christmas morning.

  John sat up straighter and stretched his aching neck. He tilted his head back and forth and rubbed the knots out of his shoulders.

  Charlie.

  He looked toward the bed and was met with a weak smile and the blinking blue eyes of his son. “Good morning, Papa.”

  “Charlie.” John fell to his knees and tore off his mask. He grasped Charlie’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Charlie.”

  “Did I miss Christmas?” His son’s raspy voice was the most wonderful sound in the world.

  John put his hand on Charlie’s forehead. Cool. Blessedly cool.

  John laughed. “You didn’t miss Christmas, son. Today is Christmas.”

  “Are there presents?”

  John studied Charlie’s face and smiled. “Right here, in your smile.”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  John took a glass of water off the table and helped his son take a drink.

  “Am I going to die, Papa?”

  John shook his head, tears gathering in his eyes. “No. God spared your life for something great, Charlie. You’re going to be fine. It will be some time before you’re back to normal, but you’re past the worst of it.”

  Charlie nodded, as if he understood, but did he? “Where’s Miss Maren?”

  John paused. “She’s not here.”

  “I heard her voice and felt her cool hand on my face.” He took several deep breaths. “She made me want to get better.” His voice faded as he fell asleep.

  John grasped his son’s hand and bowed his head. “Thank you, Lord. Thank You for sparing Charlie’s life.”

  John stood, feeling like a new man. He wanted to throw open the windows and shout to the world. There was so much to celebrate and so much to be thankful for. His son would live. Today was Christmas, the day they celebrated the arrival of their Savior. The day God sent His one and only son. How much more John understood the great sacrifice God made to allow His son to come to earth as a man.

  It was the greatest gift of all time.

  John left Charlie’s side. He would get cleaned up and go to his children. They would want to know that Charlie would be all right. They should spend the day at the Scotts’, to let Charlie rest, but they could come home for supper and presents.

  After he told them the good news, he would tell Marjorie and ask her to come back to celebrate with them.

  Last night, when Paul had come home, he told John all about his visit with Marjorie at the Antler’s Hotel. Paul had been angry that John was marrying Camilla, and John had told him Marjorie was mistaken.

  Marjorie needed to know the truth, and she needed to know that he was sorry. He had said things he regretted, but he had been scared and exhausted. Surely she would understand.

  John knocked on the guest room door. “Mother.”

  It took a few moments, but she finally opened the door, wiping sleep from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Charlie.”

  Her eyes were wide-awake now. “No.”

  John grinned. “He’s going to be fine. His fever broke.”

  “Praise God!” Mother threw her hands in the air and then around John.

  “I’m going to get dressed and go tell the children. Will you sit with Charlie while I’m gone?”

  “Of course.”

  John walked down the hall and into his room. Paul was sleeping with his arm over his head. John shook his leg. “Wake up! Charlie’s fever has broken. He’s going to be fine.”

  Paul lifted his arm and looked at John. A smile spread across his sleepy face. “That’s good news to wake up to.”

  John pulled clean clothes out of his bureau. “I’m going to get dressed and tell the children.”

  Paul yawned. “It will be the best Christmas ever.”

  “Mother is sitting with Charlie. I may be gone awhile.”

  “Will you go tell Marjorie?”

  John smiled. “I can’t wait for her to hear the good news.”

  “Are you going to ask her to marry you?”

  John paused. “I already have.”

  Paul pulled himself up, fully awake. “And?”

  Suddenly John felt exhausted again. He sat at the foot of his bed. “She won’t have me.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told her it would be a marriage in name only.”

  Paul frowned. “Why would you say that?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Paul rested against the headboard. “If you don’t love her, let her go.”

  John looked out the window at the promise of a new day—a new beginning.

  Paul leaned forward. “Do you love her?”

  “I made a vow to Anna—”

  “If I remember correctly, the vow says ‘Until death do we part.’” Paul’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “You would not dishonor Anna by falling in love again. You would be honoring God, who created love and marriage and family. I think Anna would want you to move on with your life. I don’t think she’d wish you to be lonely and unhappy forever.”

  John studied his brother for a long time. What he said was true. Knowing Anna, she would want John to continuing loving and living—even if it was with someone other than her.

  He glanced over at her Bible. It hadn’t moved an inch since the last time she touched it, and it was now gathering dust. No matter how much he had loved her, she would not be coming back—yet John remained. He had fulfilled his vows to God and to Anna, and now...now it was time to move on.

  “You’re right.”

  Paul shrugged. “I usually am.”

  John grinned at his brother. “Sometimes you are.”

  Paul tossed a pillow at John’s head. “You’d better hurry. Marjorie will probably be on the first train out of town.”

  John jumped off the bed and glanced at the clock. It was already eight. “Did she say when the train would leave?”

  “I believe the ticket agent said it would leave just as soon as the tracks were clear.”

  John looked outside, again. The snow was piled in high drifts, and it would take time to clear the tracks, but he didn’t want to risk missing her. He raced to the water closet and tried to make himself presentable, though it was no use. His hair was disheveled and his face in need of a shave, but it hardly mattered. He wanted to be the one to tell his children that Charlie would recover before going to the depot.

  He rushed downstairs and pulled on his coat and hat. He was about to exit the house when a voice stopped him.

  “John?” Mother stood in the front hall in her robe and slippers.

  John closed the door. “Is it Charlie? Does he need something?”

  She walked into the back hall, took his hand and then gently placed a small velvet box on his palm. “Paul told me where you’re going.” She closed his fingers around the box.

  “What—?”

  “When you married Anna, your father was alive, so I still needed this.”
She looked up at him, her eyes misting over. “Now I want you and Marjorie to have it.”

  John was quiet for a long time. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, a smile gracing her dear face. “Nothing would make me happier.”

  John opened the lid on the box. It was the first time he’d ever seen Mother’s wedding ring anywhere but on her finger. She had been wearing it that very morning. Now the diamond glinted up at him, nestled in black silk. At one time, it was brand-new, but now the band was a bit worn around the edges, smoothed and softened by age and love.

  “Your father and I were not perfect, but over time, and through many trials, we became one in marriage. I only hope and pray you and Marjorie will be as happy as we were.”

  John didn’t know if he’d catch Marjorie in time—but if he did, he would be honored to offer her his mother’s ring—if she’d have him. “Thank you, Mother.”

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Now go.”

  He had no time to lose. If he didn’t go now, he might never get a chance to tell Marjorie he was sorry about all the horrible things he’d said to her—or tell her that he loved her.

  He slipped the box into his pocket, raced across the street and knocked on the door. Dora answered, her face filled with fear—but the moment she saw the grin on John’s lips, she smiled.

  “He’s much better this morning,” John said quickly. “He’s going to make it.”

  Dora opened the door wider and pulled John into the foyer. “It’s a merry Christmas indeed.”

  “Papa!” Lilly raced into the foyer and jumped into his arms. “Did God answer our prayers? Is Charlie all better?”

  “He’s much better.”

  “But he won’t die, like Mama?”

  John shook his head. “No.”

  Lilly threw her arms around John’s neck and squeezed hard. “I’m so happy.”

  “Me, too.”

  Petey walked into the foyer, followed by Mother Scott. John shared the news with her.

  Petey held his toy airplane and lifted his arms to John.

  John set Lilly on her feet and then picked up his son.

  “Where’s Miss Maren?” Petey asked.

  “She’s gone and good riddance,” Mother Scott said. “I’m happy to be done with the woman.”

  “Is she gone, Papa?” Petey asked, hugging his plane to his chest. “Like Mama?”

  “She’s not gone like Mama,” Lilly said. “She’s coming back. Don’t worry, Petey. Miss Maren wouldn’t leave us like Mama left us.”

  John squatted down to be eye level with Lilly. “Mama didn’t have a choice, Lilly. You know that, don’t you?”

  Lilly nodded. “God took her home with Him.”

  John nodded.

  “But God isn’t taking Miss Maren home, is He?”

  John swallowed. “I hope not.”

  “Can we keep her?” Petey asked. “I like Miss Maren.”

  It was the second best thing John had heard that Christmas morning. “I like her, too.”

  “John!” Mother Scott scolded. “Leave well enough alone. The woman is gone and she should stay gone.” She crossed her arms over her bosom. “Now maybe you’ll see the person standing right in front of you.” She indicated Dora.

  John stood with Petey in his arms. “Mother Scott—”

  Dora put her hand on his arm. “Let me tell her, John.”

  “Tell me what?” Mother Scott asked. “Have you two finally come to your senses?”

  “For the last time, Mother, John and I are not getting married.”

  Mother Scott looked at both of them and then turned and left the foyer.

  “Can we come home now, Papa?” Lilly asked. “I want to see Charlie and Miss Maren. We have a surprise for you. We’ve been practicing since Thanksgiving.”

  “You can come home for supper tonight, but until then we’ll let Charlie get some rest.” John looked up at Dora. “Is that all right?”

  “Of course.” Dora smiled and put her hand on Lilly’s shoulder. “We’ll bake cookies and treats for tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Will you go to Marjorie?” Dora asked quietly.

  John nodded. “I need to hurry.”

  Petey lifted his airplane toward John. “Give her my plane and tell her to bring it back to me like before.”

  John took the peace offering from his son and patted his head. “I will.”

  “Tell her to come home,” Lilly said. “We miss her.”

  Dora offered John a beautiful smile. “Tell her all of us want her to come home.”

  “I’ll tell her.” John stepped out of the house and crossed the street. The snow came up to his knees and he had to struggle to take each step. With Petey’s airplane in hand, he went into his carriage house and hooked the mare up to the sleigh, moving as quickly as he could.

  Just as he was pulling out of the carriage house, he heard the shrill whistle of the train traveling through the clear winter air and his heart sped up at the sound.

  He prayed he wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Twenty

  Marjorie had been told the westbound train would leave the Little Falls Depot at nine o’clock in the morning. As the train pulled out of the station, she couldn’t help thinking she was making a mistake.

  The whistle blew and steam poured out from under the carriage, blasting the cold air with a thick cloud. It billowed out, growing wider and wider until it eventually dissipated into nothing.

  She had slept fitfully the night before, rising before dawn, and had sat in the hotel room staring out the window at the beautiful Christmas morning. Her thoughts were with the Ortons, but especially Charlie and John. Had Charlie made it through the night? She ached at the thought, and longed to be there beside him as he fought for his life, but knew it wasn’t her place. John was more than capable of fighting for his son—but who would fight for John? Camilla? Was she there even now?

  The train rounded the bend, on its way toward places West, and disappeared from sight.

  Marjorie hugged her arms around her body and patted them furiously against her back to get the blood flowing again. She had stood on the platform and watched all the other passengers board, but hadn’t had the courage to get on herself. She wasn’t ready to leave—or rather, she wasn’t ready to face the next chapter of her life.

  Her dream to go to California no longer held the same appeal. A new dream had wiggled its way into her heart, planting itself firmly while she had been with the Ortons.

  She longed to be a wife and a mother like never before, to bring joy into the lives of people she loved—and people who loved her in return. But that dream seemed even more far-fetched than going to California to be in the movies. Life had shown her that having a happy marriage and family was a very rare blessing.

  She went back into the station to stay warm and wait for the next train.

  Maybe she’d have enough nerve to get on that one.

  “Looks like you missed the train,” the ticket agent said from his perch behind the counter. He glanced at the large clock at the end of the depot. “No worries. Next one heading west should be along any minute. They were so backed up in the Twin Cities it should be easy enough to get on another one soon.”

  Marjorie found a spot to sit on a hard bench and put her satchel on her lap. “Thank you.”

  The ticket agent scratched his head. “Doesn’t seem right, a young lady like you all alone on Christmas. Don’t you have a home?”

  Marjorie looked away from the well-meaning man and shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Pity.” He cleared his throat. “You’re more than welcome to come home with me and have lunch with the missus. Would you like that?”

  “Thank you for your offe
r, but I think I’ll get on the next train.” She had another orange in her bag. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could afford to eat.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Marjorie glanced around the large depot. A handful of people were waiting for the next train. Most were talking among themselves, but one man sat alone on the opposite end of Marjorie’s bench, and when she glanced at him, he looked up and smiled.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said.

  “Merry Christmas.” She looked away, not feeling like conversation.

  “Have we met before?”

  She looked back but didn’t recognize him. He was an aging gentleman with a white mustache and sparkling brown eyes.

  “Me name is Sam Turner.” He spoke with a bit of an Irish accent. “I believe I met you at church. You’re the Ortons’ governess. Miss...” He held up his hand. “Don’t tell me. Miss Maren?”

  “That’s right.”

  The sparkle in his eyes turned to amazement. “God answered me prayer when he sent you to the Orton family.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Mr. Turner smiled and looked a bit sheepish. “Dr. Orton is a friend of mine. After his wife died, I asked God to bring someone into his home to be a mother to his children and a companion to him.” He studied her for a moment, as if weighing the wisdom in his next statement. “Maybe me old eyes deceived me, but I saw how happy the children were with you—and how much John had grown to love you.”

  A dam broke within Marjorie and she turned into a sobbing mess before Mr. Turner.

  He slid down the bench toward her and patted her hand in a fatherly gesture. “There, there. Don’t cry, lass. Things aren’t so bad.” He handed her a clean handkerchief. “Ach, now, I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?”

  She wiped at her face, her cheeks growing warm. “I’m sorry for carrying on so.”

  “No need to apologize for tears, especially ones from so deep within. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  He squinted, as if bracing himself for a blow. “Was it something I said?”

  “Yes.” She offered a little laugh.

  He put his hand over his heart, his face revealing his distress. “It’s sorry I am.”