A Mother In The Making. Gabrielle MeyerЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter Two

      Marjorie stood in the water closet facing Petey. Laura was in her arms, chewing on her fist, and Lilly stood behind Marjorie quietly observing the scene.

      Petey stared up at Marjorie with defiant blue eyes and she didn’t blame him.

      First, he had lost his mother, and then he was presented with a strange woman who didn’t know the first thing about child care. How could she make him trust her—and feel comfortable in her presence?

      She smiled—it was the only thing she could think to do.

      He didn’t blink.

      “I’m Miss Maren,” she said with a happy tone to her voice. “I’m here to take care of you.”

      Still, he scowled at her.

      “I need to help you out of your soiled clothes, and then I’ll give you a bath and put you in something clean.”

      “His clothes are upstairs in his bedroom,” Lilly said. “Shall I get him something to wear?”

      Marjorie could have sighed in relief. “Yes, thank you, Lilly.”

      Laura began to whimper in Marjorie’s arms and she awkwardly bounced the baby to quiet her.

      “I need to help you get your clothing off,” Marjorie said to Petey.

      The boy took a step back and shook his head.

      Laura’s whimper turned into a cry, close to Marjorie’s ear. She bounced her faster, but the baby refused to be soothed.

      How would she hold the baby and take off Petey’s clothing?

      “I’m going to put Laura in her cradle, and then I’m coming back here to help you. All right?”

      Petey didn’t respond.

      Marjorie turned from the water closet and stepped across the hall to the night nursery, where she placed Laura in her cradle. The baby’s cries increased at being set down, and Marjorie’s heart rate picked up speed. What would Dr. Orton think if this baby continued to cry? And how could she stop her? What did she need? Was she hungry? Was her diaper soiled?

      She offered the baby a rattle lying in her cradle, but Laura cried even harder.

      A flash of movement caught Marjorie’s eye.

      Petey ran out of the water closet and down the hall toward the stairs.

      Marjorie left the crying baby and rushed out of the room. Petey turned the corner and Marjorie raced after him. She grasped the little boy as he reached the stairway landing where the beautiful stained-glass window had caught Marjorie’s eye earlier. She held his arm to stop his escape and tried to sound calm. “We haven’t bathed you, Petey. You must wait for me.”

      Laura’s wails filled the upper hall and met Marjorie on the stairway.

      Petey tried to pull free from Marjorie’s grasp, his own whimpers filling her ears.

      Heat gathered under Marjorie’s traveling gown, warming her neck and back until perspiration gathered. How would she get Petey back to the water closet? His clothing smelled of urine. If she lifted him, her dress would need to be cleaned, as well.

      “Miss Maren?” Dr. Orton appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Do you need help?”

      Petey reached for his father, but Marjorie held tight.

      The doctor gave Marjorie a disapproving look. “It appears you are off to a poor start.”

      Marjorie had little choice but to lift the child into her arms. His wet clothing penetrated hers, and she had to breathe through her mouth. “I’m fine.”

      “Why is Laura crying? Does she need to be fed?”

      Marjorie had no idea why Laura was crying—or what a person fed a hungry baby—but she couldn’t tell Dr. Orton. She was on trial. She couldn’t ruin her chances within the first half hour. “I have everything under control.”

      “Are you sure?”

      She wanted to glower at the doctor, but instead, she forced a tight smile and walked up the stairs with her head held high as Petey tried to wiggle out of her arms.

      Laura’s cries were so pitiful Marjorie felt tears gather in the back of her own eyes. Did children always make such a fuss? As an only child, Marjorie had never been exposed to anything like this. Had she been this way for her own governess? It didn’t seem likely.

      Marjorie entered the water closet and set Petey on his feet. The little boy tried to push past her, but she held her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I must get you clean and put new clothes on you.”

      He backed up against the stand-up radiator under the window.

      The reprieve gave Marjorie a moment to study his romper, her brow furrowed. There were far too many buttons. If Petey didn’t cooperate, she had no idea how she would get the wet clothing off his wiggly body.

      “Mama used to sing to him while she changed his clothes,” Lilly said, suddenly standing at the door.

      Marjorie turned to the girl with a bit of desperation. “What did she sing?”

      Lilly shrugged and set the clean romper and underclothes on a bureau near the door. “Church hymns, mostly.” The girl went to the bathtub and turned on the water faucet. “It takes a few minutes for the hot water to travel up the pipe from the basement. Mama always used the time to gather her bathing supplies.” Lilly went to the bureau and pulled out a clean towel and washcloth.

      Petey stopped squirming and watched his sister work.

      Lilly stepped onto the closed toilet seat and reached for a bar of pink soap, high on the top shelf. She paused for a moment, her hand hovering over the soap. “Petey always asked Mama if he could use her rose-scented soap, but she usually said no because it was a gift Papa gave her.” She looked at Petey, and a tender gaze passed between them before she grabbed the soap. “It makes us feel close to her.”

      Petey stood still and dropped his little chin down to his chest.

      Lilly set the soap on the towel and then began to hum “Onward, Christian Soldiers” as she unbuttoned Petey’s romper.

      Marjorie’s heart broke for the children—but Laura’s wails continued to fill the house, sending gooseflesh racing up Marjorie’s arms.

      “Laura needs a bottle and a diaper change.” Lilly looked up at Marjorie, blinking her blue, trusting eyes. “Do you know how to do those things?”

      Marjorie wanted to sit on the rug and throw her hands up in defeat. Maybe being a governess was a bad idea—but she couldn’t give up now. She refused to leave another job unfinished. She wouldn’t let her father’s parting words define her. You’re a quitter, Marjorie, and you’ll never change.

      “No, but I’m a good student.” Marjorie unbuttoned her sleeves and began to roll them up to her elbows. “Do you know how to make a bottle and change a diaper?”

      Lilly nodded and slipped Petey’s romper off his body, her young arms working with an air of confidence Marjorie wished she possessed. “You can bathe Petey, and I’ll see to Laura’s diaper—you do know how to wash someone, don’t you?”

      Here, at least, was something Marjorie did know how to do. “Yes, of course—I bathe myself all the time.” She looked toward the room across the hall. “But how will I learn to change her if I’m in here?”

      Lilly giggled and the sound was a welcome change from the wailing baby. “She’ll need to be changed again in a few hours. You can learn then.” She reached into the tub and put the plug in the drain.

      “Is