A Mother In The Making. Gabrielle Meyer

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?”

      Petey squirmed in John’s lap, and John put his hand on his son’s knee to steady him. “I still haven’t decided if you should have the party.”

      The children looked at Miss Maren.

      “It would be an educational opportunity for Lilly,” the governess said. “What better way to teach her social graces? You do want her to learn how to be a hostess someday, don’t you?”

      “Of course—”

      “Then it’s settled.” Miss Maren sipped her soup once again.

      He hadn’t given permission—but one look at Lilly’s face, and he knew his daughter loved the idea. How could he say no? “Fine.”

      “Who will you invite?” Lilly asked.

      Miss Maren dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Anyone I think who would make a good match for...” She paused.

      Lilly waited for a moment and then asked, “A good match for what?”

      Again, Miss Maren looked unsure if she should say something, and John was growing weary of this conversation. “You and Lilly may discuss your plans away from the dinner table.”

      Miss Maren’s green eyes sparkled in triumph—until Laura grabbed her spoon and splattered red soup down the front of Miss Maren’s delicate gown.

      Maybe now she would understand why practical clothing was needed in his home.

      John waited until Miss Ernst helped clean up the mess, and then he spoke again. “After supper I’m going to the hospital. I probably won’t return until it’s time to bring the children to church in the morning. See that they are put to bed by seven thirty. If you have any trouble, ask Mrs. Gohl or Miss Ernst for assistance.”

      Miss Maren took Laura’s hand off her buttered bread, a sigh on her lips. “I’ll do my very best.”

      He hoped her very best was good enough.

      * * *

      Marjorie’s head dropped toward her chest—but she snapped it up and blinked her burning eyes several times to stay awake. She needed to use this time as she listened to the sermon to study the ladies in the congregation. Maybe one or two might be suitable for Dr. Orton.

      Her eyes started to droop again, but she fought the exhaustion and lifted her head.

      Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dr. Orton glance at her—but if it was with sympathy or disapproval, she couldn’t tell.

      She sat between Lilly and Charlie on the family pew, with Laura asleep in her lap. Dr. Orton sat beside Lilly, with Petey on his lap.

      Though Marjorie tried, she could not keep her eyes open. Laura had woken up at least half a dozen times through the long night, demanding Marjorie’s attention. Marjorie’s only consolation had been the knowledge that Dr. Orton was at the hospital and could not hear his daughter fussing. Surely he would have been angry that she didn’t know how to quiet the baby.

      Now Laura slept peacefully—and Marjorie wished she could join her.

      The pastor droned on and on...

      Lilly poked Marjorie in the rib and whispered, “You fell asleep.”

      Marjorie’s cheeks flamed with heat. What would Dr. Orton think of her, falling asleep in church when she should be listening to the reverend?

      She readjusted