His Baby Dream (Safe Harbor Medical) (3 page)

Hoping her thoughts didn’t show, she said, “I could put them to work planting a vegetable garden. Adrienne did that last spring when she was watching Mia and Reggie. My daughter swears they dug for hours, although mostly I think they played in the dirt.”

“Might be kind of messy for a party,” Peter said.

“I agree. What else did you have in mind?”

“Bugs.” He gave the word a lilt, as if it ought to pique her interest.

“Spoken like a biology teacher.” Nevertheless, Harper supposed bugs might make an interesting theme. In her experience, kids seemed to love eating Gummy worms and chocolate mud pie cupcakes. “I could design invitations and decorations on that theme,” she mused. “It wouldn’t be hard to come up with bug-related games, either.”

“If your backyard is like most people’s, I’m sure you can find anthills, ladybugs and spiders.” Peter’s face lit up with enthusiasm.

“You mean, real bugs?”

“Magnifying glasses should make good party favors.”

That did sound like fun, if handled right. “What would the kids do?”

“Spot bugs and identify them,” Peter said. “In the process, they’ll learn about the creatures that share our lawns and homes.”

“Our homes?” Harper shuddered. “Not mine, thank you.”

“Even in a clean house, you’ll find tiny spiders, and if there are spiders, they’re eating something,” he observed. “Plus our clothes and sheets are loaded with microscopic dust mites.”

Harper raised her hands. “Too much information.”

“Sorry.” Peter ducked his head. “I get carried away.”

“Let’s keep the bug hunt outdoors.” Harper sighed. “If Mia thinks our house is full of bugs, she might have trouble sleeping.”

“Good point.” After a moment’s reflection, he asked, “When’s the party?”

“In two weeks,” Harper said.

“I could stop by and check your yard before then, if that would help.” His eyes shone at the prospect. “But I don’t want to impose.”

“Impose?” She’d welcome the assistance. “Anything you can do would be great. When’s a good time?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

She hadn’t expected such a quick turnaround. “I promised my friend Stacy to go shopping for her wedding gown.” Although the event wasn’t until September, it could take a while to find the right dress. “How about next Saturday?”

“Two o’clock?”

“Great.” Had she really just invited Peter to her house? But they would have a chaperone. “Mia will be delighted to see you. Although she’s a little nervous around spiders.”
As if I’m not.

“She’s a cutie.” Peter seemed to relax at the mention of her name. Apparently he hadn’t been trying to get Harper alone, not that she’d figured he was. “By the way, spiders aren’t insects.”

“What are they?”

“Arachnids.”

Harper made a mental connection, not to biology but to a mythology book she’d read to her daughter. “Like Arachne, the weaver.”

“Exactly. You’d make a good teacher.” Coming from Peter, that was high praise.

“Thanks.” As they arose and cleared their plates, Harper added, “I’ll text you my address. Although I guess you have that already, at camp.”

“I’m sure we do.” He kept his tone politely impersonal. “However, I don’t consult school records for my personal use. We should exchange numbers.”

“Good idea.” They clicked to the contacts section on their phones and input that information for each other.

Judging by his tone and body language, he intended to keep their relationship platonic. Despite a small, rebellious twinge of regret, that suited Harper fine.

* * *

A
T
HOME
, P
ETER
CLICKED
open the egg donor website. There she was, the woman with whom he’d eaten lunch. Viewing Harper this way felt sneaky, but how could he tell her what he was considering?

Surely no etiquette book addressed the issue of what a man might discuss with a friend on the subject of choosing her as an egg donor. If he decided against it, she might feel rejected. If he chose her, well, what then?

He’d felt more comfortable talking with Harper today than he’d felt with any other woman since he lost Angela. There’d been none of the usual awkwardness when women flirted with him. Since he became a widower, several female acquaintances had invited Peter to dinner but he always made excuses. Others came right out and told him that, after more than a year, he ought to be dating again. They strongly implied that he should start with
them.

While he appreciated the compliment, he didn’t like being pursued. When he and Angela met during their student teaching, they’d gravitated together instinctively.

Like Harper and me?

Peter
did
find her appealing. However, that might result partly from her resemblance to Angela. Plus, having acquaintances in common and a shared history helped the conversation flow.

Well, he’d volunteered to drop by her house next Saturday. With a little more contact, surely he’d be able to decide whether to select her as the mother of his children, or move on to another candidate.

Chapter Three

“Tell me again how blue his eyes are,” teased Stacy, fingering the lace on a tiered, strapless gown.

Embarrassed, Harper glanced around the bridal shop. Luckily, none of the other customers appeared to be paying attention. “I showed you his picture already!”

“And tell me how helpful he’s being about the party.”

“Change the subject.”

“Okay.” Stacy stretched. “It’s amazing how sore I am from walking around Disneyland. That was so much fun! Thanks for loaning us Mia.”

“I’m glad she didn’t drive you crazy.”

“Not at all.”

Yesterday’s outing, from which they’d returned about 10:30 p.m. after the fireworks, had left all parties exhausted. Today, even the usually meticulous Stacy had smudged her eyeliner and stuck a headband over her loose curls.

Harper had barely dragged Mia out of bed this morning in time for church. Afterward, she’d dropped off her daughter to spend the afternoon with Adrienne, who’d set up a pretend medical clinic for Mia’s and Reggie’s teddy bears. “Oh, darn!” Stacy made a face as another woman corralled the tiered gown. “I think that was the only one in my size.”

“You should have let the saleslady set it aside,” Harper said.

Stacy pretended to glare. “See how much sympathy you get from me when you’re shopping for your wedding to Mr. Blue Eyes.”

“Quit that.” Harper would have given her friend a light shove, had Stacy not been pregnant.

“Kidding aside, it’s the first time I’ve seen you like a guy since Sean.” Stacy lingered in front of a display of hats and veils. “Aren’t these cute?”

“Pick the dress first,” Harper advised.

“But someone might take the prettiest hat!”

“You’ll want a veil.”

“Why do you say that?” her friend demanded.

“Because you’re the veil type. Or the something-romantic type. Not hats.” Having shared an apartment with Stacy and been friends with her since junior high, Harper knew her taste ran to the ultrafeminine. “Trust me.”

“I do.” Stacy sighed. “Which is lucky, because Cole can’t help me choose a dress, or colors, or a cake. He’s a sweetheart but when it comes to girl stuff, he’s hopeless.”

“Your sister would be ideal.” During their teen years, Harper had seen how talented Ellie was at designing and sewing clothes. Now, married with four kids, Ellie lived in Salt Lake City and, with their mother, ran a boutique that sold stuffed animals in custom outfits. “Too bad she lives so far away.”

“She gets final approval over the bridesmaid dresses.” Stacy held up a sleek off-the-shoulder satin gown. “Along with you.”

“That makes sense.” Harper had been invited to be maid of honor, with Ellie as matron of honor. While unusual, the arrangement suited the small church setting and the fact that Cole, new to the area and with no close relatives, had only two groomsmen: his boss, the intimidating Dr. Owen Tartikoff, and Cole’s male nurse, Lucky Mendez.

“My feet hurt. I have to sit down.” As Stacy sank into a chair, the saleslady hurried over, asking if she was okay and offering tea, which they gratefully accepted.

“That’s another problem with choosing a gown,” Stacy murmured. “By September, I’ll be sticking out to here. Possibly out to
there.
” She indicated a point halfway across the room.

“We have designs with plenty of room,” the clerk assured them.

“For triplets?” Stacy asked.

After a blink of surprise, the saleslady said, “I’m sure we can accommodate you.”

Soon Harper and Stacy found themselves in a large dressing room with a selection of gowns, along with bridesmaid dresses in Harper’s size. Since Stacy hadn’t yet chosen her colors, the options were wide open.

“Pregnant brides must be fairly common,” Harper commented as she helped her friend into a dress with a forgiving waistline.

“Yeah, but I’ll bet none of them got pregnant the way I did.” Stacy smoothed out the skirt. “When you take those hormones and they tell you to watch out after they harvest the eggs, they aren’t kidding.”

“So I hear.” As part of her preparation to become an egg donor, Harper had been warned that the harvesting process didn’t catch every egg. Donors were strongly advised to abstain from intercourse for the rest of that cycle or risk getting pregnant with multiples.

After Stacy donated eggs to Una, she’d believed her period had started. That same night, celebrating her birthday, she’d had an unexpected romantic encounter with Cole. Initially, she’d planned to give up the babies for adoption, but despite Cole’s clumsy approach to wooing, he’d eventually won Stacy’s heart.

“You and Una inspired me,” Harper added, “but that doesn’t mean I intend to follow
all
your examples.”

“Good.” Turning to examine the back of a dress, Stacy paused as her gaze met Harper’s in the mirror. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this...”

“When has that stopped you?”

Her friend smiled. “Okay. I’m glad you’ll be helping a family have children...”

“But?” Curious, Harper slipped out of a pink dress that was too pale for her complexion.

“When Una called to say she was pregnant, I thought I’d be ecstatic.” Stacy eased out of her gown, as well. “Instead, I felt as if the bottom had dropped out.”

That puzzled Harper. “Why?”

“I didn’t understand it,” Stacy admitted. “You know, the program initially tried to reject me as a donor because I hadn’t had a child of my own. I browbeat Jan until she agreed.” Jan Garcia, R.N., headed the egg donor program.

“It upset you when Una got pregnant?” Harper prompted.

“I felt empty.” Stacy drooped at the memory. “My arms ached to hold those babies. Although I was ashamed of my reaction, that’s how I felt.”

“I wish you’d told me.” If Harper had known Stacy was struggling, she’d have been more supportive. Not that she’d been unkind, but she
had
been distracted by her new job and Mia’s needs. “Since I already have a child, though, my arms won’t be empty.”

“What about those little boys in your dreams?” Stacy reminded her.

“I don’t see them as mine.” Harper had discussed the matter with the program’s psychologist. “They’re separate people who deserve their own lives. I’m just helping them.”

“That’s what
I
thought about my future babies,” Stacy cautioned.

“And now you get to watch Una’s twins grow up,” Harper pointed out. “Plus raise three of your own.”

“You’re missing the point,” Stacy pressed. “I just want you to understand that things might not go as planned.”

“I appreciate the warning.” Harper hadn’t meant to dismiss her friend’s concern. “But while I’d love to share the recipient’s pregnancy and birth, I accept that that might not happen. In the meantime, what do you think?” She twirled in a light purple dress with blue trim. “This is pretty.”

“It fits beautifully.”

“Could you go for these colors?” Harper would be able to wear the cocktail-length dress again, a definite plus in view of the price.

“Oh!” Stacy eyed the dress in dismay. “Ellie said any color but puce.”

“This isn’t puce. It’s purple. What color
is
puce?”

“I’ll check.” Sitting on the bench, Stacy consulted the dictionary in her phone. “It says here it’s dark red. I always thought puce was purple.”

Standing upright to avoid wrinkling the dress, Harper searched on
her
phone. “This site says it’s a grayish red-violet.” The color displayed was lighter and more muted than the one she wore.

Stacy continued doing research. “Listen to this!
Puce
is a French word that refers to the color of bedbug droppings.”

Together, they said, “Eww!”

“I’m sure the bedbugs have been out of the picture for hundreds of years,” Stacy said.

“Do you suppose that’s why Ellie hates the color?” Harper asked. “Or does she loathe anything purplish, reddish or violetish in general?”

“Violetish? Never mind.” Stacy pressed a number. A moment later, she said, “Ellie? What color is puce?”

Over the phone, which was on speaker mode, came, “It’s yellow-green.”

Stacy and Harper laughed.

“What?” squawked Ellie’s voice.

“I’ll tell you later,” Stacy promised. “What do you think of this dress?” She held up the phone so her sister could see. Harper twirled like a model.

“Ooh, cute!” said Ellie.

“You like the color?”

“You bet!”

They agreed to have one sent to her in her size. With Ellie’s and her mom’s needlework skills, they could tailor it as needed.

Stacy hung up. “I can’t believe we agreed on the bridesmaid’s dress
and
my colors. Purple and blue. How cool!”

“You still haven’t found a gown,” Harper warned.

Stacy indicated the remaining dresses. “If I don’t find one today, it won’t be the end of the world. We’ve got months and months.”

That turned out to be a good thing. None of the gowns caught the bride’s fancy.

Only later, after they’d purchased the bridesmaid gowns and Harper had been measured for alterations, did Stacy’s words come back to her.
I felt as if the bottom had dropped out.

Before volunteering, she’d searched the web for comments by egg donors. Some
did
have regrets, but most reported immense satisfaction.

As she drove to Adrienne’s house to collect Mia, Harper reminded herself that she had a strong sense of who she was and what she wanted from life. Plus, unlike Stacy, she already had a child.

Whom she suddenly couldn’t wait to hug.

* * *

A
LL
WEEK
, P
ETER
NOTICED
whenever Harper arrived to drop off or collect her daughter at sports camp. Mostly, he gave her a friendly nod from a distance, despite the temptation to walk over and chat. He was here to work, and she had tasks to accomplish, as well.

The Fourth of July holiday fell midweek. Usually, he joined his parents for a barbecue, but this year they’d flown to Maryland to see his sister and meet Betty’s new fiancé. Peter nearly asked Harper about her plans, except that would imply he wanted to be included. Instead, he volunteered to supervise a group of underprivileged children at an Independence Day festival.

On Friday, Peter missed seeing Harper. She must have been there, because Mia arrived and departed, but he got tied up with administrative matters. Thank goodness he had arranged to see her tomorrow.

Thank goodness?
Peter’s thoughts must have a mind of their own. He missed Angela too much to get involved with anyone else.

The memory of his wife reminded him that he’d been neglecting her rose garden. As a result, he spent Saturday morning deadheading flowers, fertilizing and spraying for black spot.

Although he planned to tramp around Harper’s yard, he showered and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a crisp, short-sleeved shirt. For good measure, he added a splash of aftershave lotion.

The address she’d provided was located a couple of miles across town, in a neighborhood of trim, one-story homes. He liked the clean lines of her house, while the bright flowers around the front steps welcomed him.

When the bell rang, footsteps pattered inside the house. Mia opened the door, her face shining with eagerness. “Mr. Gladstone!” She stepped back, tightening her grip on a black-and-white kitten, which responded by swiping her cheek with a closed paw. “This is Po.”

“As in
Kung Fu Panda?
” he asked as he entered. The delicious scent of baking filled the air. Not just baking—chocolate.

“Yeah!” She shifted her grip on the wiggly animal. “Want to hold him?”

“Cats don’t usually let strangers hold them,” he observed.

“Okay.” Swinging around, Mia bellowed, “Mom!” in a voice far too big for such a tiny sprite.

“I’ll be right there,” came the cheerful response. “I’m taking the brownies out of the oven.”

He waited with Mia in the living room, which was solidly furnished with a dark brown sofa and a large entertainment center. Angela had relegated their TV to Peter’s study, lining the front room with glass-front cabinets displaying decorative figurines and plates. Being surrounded by so much fragility made Peter feel as if he had to watch his step, but every couple compromised. He’d venture to guess that the large-screen TV had been more Sean’s idea than Harper’s.

She appeared with her short chestnut hair rumpled and her cheeks flushed from the heat of the oven. “Hey, Peter. Right on time. I appreciate this.”

“Glad to help.” He produced a pair of disposable cameras. “I had these left over from a science class and figured the guests could use them.”

“Great idea!” Harper set them on the coffee table. “I suggested on the invitation that the kids bring cameras, but not everyone will. Now, while the brownies are cooling, let me show you the yard.”

They cut through a large, modern kitchen and out via sliding glass doors to the patio. There, a slatted cover shaded a table, chairs and a glider. Beyond spread a lawn rimmed by bushes.

Mia released the kitten, which prowled across the lawn. The little girl followed, keeping a close eye on her baby.

“My brain’s working overtime on decorations and stuff,” Harper said. “I’m just not sure how to handle the bug hunt.”

Peter made a circuit of the yard, checking for spiderwebs, anthills and other signs of creepy-crawlies. Afternoon wasn’t the best time to look, since insects were more active in the mornings and evenings, but this was when the kids would be hunting.

As he pointed out activity, Harper took notes. “I have to fight my instinct to knock down that web,” she said when they spotted a large one stretching from the rear fence to a nearby bush.

“It’s huge!” Mia glanced protectively at Po, as if the kitten might wind up in the arachnid’s snare.

This was the kind of teachable moment Peter relished. “That’s an orb weaver web,” he said. “I doubt it will be there tomorrow, let alone next week, but there might be a new one. Orb weavers consume their webs late in the day, rest for an hour or so and then spin a new one in the same area. You can see there isn’t much detritus—old stuff like leaves stuck in it.”