the forerunners in Marjorie’s mind—but she’d had so little time to get to know either one that it was hard to tell. If everyone came to tea, there would be fifteen ladies to choose from. She intended to use the party as a place to weed out the undesirable prospects.
But, for now, her bed beckoned. She stopped brushing her hair and offered up a simple prayer. “Please, Lord. Let Laura sleep through the night.”
A gentle knock sounded at her door.
She tossed her curls over her shoulder and set the brush down on the desk. Her wrapper was draped over the footboard, so she picked it up and slipped it on. No doubt one of the children needed something, though all four of them had been in bed for an hour. Hopefully Petey hadn’t had another nightmare.
Marjorie opened her door and then abruptly closed it again.
“Miss Maren?” Dr. Orton stood in the hallway, probably bewildered by her abrupt greeting—or lack of one.
She touched her hair and closed her robe. Why had he come to her room? Since she had arrived, he had not even walked past her room. Marjorie opened the door once again—just a crack. “Yes?”
He stood in the dark hall, holding a children’s book in his hands, his tired face outlined in the shadows. He studied her for a moment and then looked down at the book, swallowing a few times before he spoke. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I just got called into the hospital and I will be leaving for the night.”
She opened the door a little wider, concern softening her voice. “But you’ve only been home for three hours. When will you get some rest?”
He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He lifted his brown eyes and shrugged. “Hopefully in the morning, though I might catch a few minutes of sleep on a cot in my office tonight, if I get a chance.”
“But aren’t you at a higher risk of getting sick if your body is exhausted?”
The weary lines of his face disappeared and he offered her a tender smile.
The gesture took Marjorie by surprise and made her close the door just a hair more.
“That’s usually what I tell my patients, but I’m not known for taking my own advice.” He lifted the book and extended it toward her. It was a copy of Peter Pan and Wendy. “I was just reading this to Petey. He came into my office crying after another bad dream. I read to him until he fell asleep and then I put him in my bed.” He lifted the book higher and nodded to her to take it. “In case he wakes up again.”
Marjorie took the book from Dr. Orton and hugged it to her chest. “Will you be home in the morning before the children go to school?”
He slipped his hands in his pockets and shook his head. His eyes followed the outline of her face and he cleared his throat. “I don’t think so. Dr. McCall lost two patients this evening and needs to go home and rest, so I’ll be there until he can relieve me. I told him to take all the time he needs.” He took a step back. “Good night, Miss Maren.” He paused and offered her another smile. “Thank you—and be sure to give the children their cinnamon oil in the morning.”
Marjorie closed her bedroom door and leaned against it for a moment, the book still warm from his touch. It was a few heartbeats before she heard him walk away from her door.
The man was a study in extremes. He could be hard and demanding—yet gentle and kind. He disciplined his children with a rigid set of ideals, yet they ran to him for comfort and acceptance.
For the first time, she genuinely liked him.
Another yawn overtook her, and her eyes watered from its force. She dragged her feet across the room and switched off the floor lamp. She would think about the good doctor in the morning when she had control over her thoughts and emotions.
She slipped Peter Pan onto her nightstand and took off her wrapper. She kicked her slippers off and pulled back the covers. With a sigh, she climbed between the sheets and allowed every muscle in her body to relax as she sank deep into the mattress.
Her eyelids fluttered closed as a soft smile tilted her lips. Bed had never felt better in her life.
Laura’s whimper drifted into Marjorie’s bedroom.
Marjorie’s eyes opened. “Please, no,” she whispered into the dark room.
She held her breath as the baby quieted. The ticking of the hall clock was the only sound.
Marjorie let out the breath and closed her eyes again—but this time Laura’s unmistakable cries filled the night.
Marjorie flipped onto her stomach and pulled the pillow over her head. “No,” she fairly cried. Why couldn’t the baby sleep for longer than two hours at a time?
Laura’s cries grew in intensity and Marjorie finally pushed the covers back and practically fell out of the warm bed. Her slippers were somewhere in the abyss of darkness, and her wrapper had fallen off the end of the bed and was probably pooled on the floor.
She flipped on the light, frustration making her movements quick and awkward. If she didn’t quiet Laura, Lilly would soon be awake, followed by Petey, and then she’d be up much longer reading to the little boy to put him back to sleep.
Marjorie quickly located her slippers and tossed her wrapper on as she exited her room and tiptoed into the nursery. Lilly’s bed was against the far wall, where a swatch of moonlight filtered into the room in an elongated rectangle from the window. The girl was still asleep.
Laura’s cries grew louder and Marjorie’s own eyes filled with tears. She just wanted to sleep.
Marjorie arrived at the cradle and peeked over the edge. Laura’s face was scrunched up and she was wailing at the top of her lungs.
“Shh,” Marjorie whispered, jostling the cradle.
Laura immediately quieted and her eyes opened. She looked at Marjorie and a sweet smile lifted her chubby cheeks, a coo bubbling from her mouth.
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