A Mother In The Making. Gabrielle Meyer

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.”

      John laid his forearms on top of his desk and leaned closer. “What?”

      Winnie’s face crumpled and she dropped her head, great sobs shuddering through her body.

      John rose, his instinct to heal coming to the forefront of his actions. “Nurse, could you please bring the children to a different room while I speak with Mrs. Jensen?”

      “Of course.” Nurse Hendricks rose and lifted first one girl into her arms and then somehow managed to take the other. “Come, boys, I will show you where the cook keeps the cookie jar.”

      One of the boys willingly went with Nurse Hendricks, but the other watched his mother cry, his own eyes filling with tears.

      John took his clean handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Winnie, then ushered the second boy out of the room, closing the door softly.

      He turned back to his friend. “Winnie, what’s the matter?”

      He hated to see her in such distress.

      She looked wretched as she bent over, her body shaking. “It’s awful! I don’t know what I will do.”

      John took his chair from behind his desk and brought it out to sit in front of her. He took her hand in his. “Are you sick? Is there something I can do for you?”

      She looked up, and her brown eyes were awash in tears. “I didn’t know where else to go. I have no family in town, and I have no money to travel back to Rhode Island to be with my father. I’ve been living on the kindness of neighbors and the church, but I don’t know how much longer I can rely on them.”

      John rubbed the top of her hand. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

      The tears began again and she put her face into the handkerchief. “I’m pregnant.”

      John sat up straight. “Pregnant?”

      “I’ve been denying it for months. I suspected it when Calvin became sick—but I didn’t have time to think much about it after he died—” Her sobs choked off her words.

      John moved his chair so he was sitting beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. He couldn’t imagine if Anna had been left to care for their four children. At least she would have had her mother and sister. Winnie was all alone.

      She clutched his hand, her eyes wild with fear. “What if I have another set of twins?”

      John