His Baby Dream (Safe Harbor Medical)

by Diamond, Jacqueline

  “Since the surrogate has agreed to meet with all parties, we’re mainly concerned with the father,” Nora replied. “And I consider him partly at fault. He must have been aware of the likelihood of your stumbling on the truth.”

  The two doctors’ eyes met. Apparently they’d discussed this issue between them, and hadn’t entirely agreed.

  “He might not see it that way,” Paige cautioned. “Men tend to compartmentalize more than women do.”

  “And they always think they’re so rational,” Nora grumbled.

  “Leo acting cranky?” her friend inquired.

  “Oh, he’s putting in long hours on a difficult case.” Nora’s husband was an investigator with the Safe Harbor Police Department.

  “He could always join Mike’s agency,” Paige teased. “Then he could work even longer hours for less money and fewer benefits.” Her husband, Mike Aaron, co-owned a detective agency.

  Nora rolled her eyes. “It’s more than my life is worth to suggest such a thing. Leo plans to be chief someday.”

  Harper clasped her hands and waited for them to return to the subject. Which, noticing her expression, they promptly did.

  “Since you’re making disclosure to the...possible father,” Nora said, “we’ll wait till Monday to brief the powers that be.”

  “You don’t think he might sue, do you?” Paige asked.

  “If he does, I’ll sue him back.” Harper’s jaw tightened. She had no idea whether she had grounds, but in her opinion, Peter was the one who’d broken her trust.

  “I’ll inform my brother-in-law on Monday, too,” Nora said. Tony Franco served as hospital attorney. “We should have done that earlier.”

  Again, she and Paige locked gazes. Paige lost the staring contest.

  As she left the office, Harper ran through a host of possibilities. What if Peter insisted she go ahead with the egg donation as a condition of his not making trouble? That would be blackmail, but perhaps not from his perspective.

  As Dr. Franco had said, men tended to believe they were being rational. Even when they weren’t.

  * * *

  DESPITE BEING FAIRLY certain that the book project was a dead issue, Harper slipped out early Saturday with her camera. Sitting on the grass in a rear corner of the yard, she waited and watched in the silver-gray light until a twinkle of orange caught her eye.

  The butterfly had large black spots on its orange wings, and a span close to two inches. Carefully, she adjusted her settings and captured its luminous beauty.

  “What are you doing, Mommy?”

  Mia had reached her with barely a whisper of footsteps, and spoke near her mother’s ear. As a result, she didn’t frighten away the tiny creature.

  “Remember I told you that Peter and I might work on a book?” While Harper regretted having informed her daughter, it was too late to undo that now. “I thought I’d see what I could find.”

  Mia held up her new camera. “Can I take its picture, too?”

  “Of course.”

  A minute later, after the butterfly rambled off, they searched the internet on Harper’s phone for a match. “There it is!” She pointed at an image almost too small to see. “It’s called a tortoiseshell.”

  Scrolling down, Mia gaped at a striped caterpillar. “Oh, my gosh! I nearly stepped on one of those. I almost killed a butterfly baby!”

  “Accidents happen.” Harper refrained from noting that spiders and cockroaches also had babies, none of which she planned to preserve.

  They took more photos, capturing a leafhopper, a nearly translucent spider and a common housefly. Then it was time to drive Mia to the ceramics workshop. Returning half an hour before her appointment with Peter, Harper set out coffee mugs and blueberry muffins.

  She wasn’t sure why she went to so much trouble for a man who’d betrayed her. Still, he deserved a chance to explain.

  She smacked her hand on the counter. Stop being so darn nice, Harper! The man had insinuated himself into her life—not without an invitation, true—but he’d endeared himself under false pretenses to her and to Mia. Especially Mia.

  Couldn’t he see how fragile her daughter’s heart was? Although Mia seemed sturdy, Harper knew her daughter longed to be part of a family. She’d asked three times why Uncle Jake didn’t call or send a present. They hadn’t heard from him, even though Harper had emailed her brother a chatty message several weeks earlier with a reminder about his niece’s birthday.

  Then, all week, Mia had brimmed with happy observations of what Peter said and did at sports camp. He’d become an important part of her emotional landscape.

  Harper wished he weren’t moving. And that he hadn’t proposed this book without telling her he’d hired her as the egg donor. And that... Oh, heck, she was too old and too jaded to make wishes that couldn’t come true.

  The doorbell chose that inconvenient moment to ring. He would have to be on time.

  Grumpily, Harper went to answer.

  * * *

  PETER HAD RESOLVED TO steer the conversation carefully. Instead, words failed him as he stared into the snapping green eyes of the woman who’d dominated his thoughts.

  In a folder, he held a printed outline of the book, along with information regarding publishers and the self-publishing process. By starting on neutral ground, he’d intended to ease into the tricky topic that refused to remain a secret.

  Instead, he stood on the porch while she glared at him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “We need to talk.” Harper moved stiffly from his path.

  Nothing unusual had happened at sports camp, nor was he late today. Could her attitude result from the birth control pills? Concerned for her health, Peter had read up on those, and learned that they might affect her moods.

  When he entered, the enchanting scent of baking enveloped him. “That smells wonderful.”

  “I made muffins for Mia.” Almost snarling, she added, “There are a few left.” With that, Harper stalked to the kitchen.

  Peter followed, concerned but beginning to be irked by her attitude. When he misstepped with Angela, a smile and a quiet discussion had always smoothed things over. He was a reasonable man.

  Refreshments were already set out on the table. Po skittered about on the tiled floor until Harper scooped him up, petted him and carried him to the laundry room. Peter could hear her murmuring, “I don’t want to step on you, baby. You’ll be fine in here.”

  Any hope that her mood might be mellowing, however, faded when she returned. Although she’d ceased glaring, her jaw was clamped shut.

  Peter indicated the food. “This, uh... Thanks.”

  Harper washed her hands and joined him. Not eating or drinking. Or saying, “You’re welcome,” either.

  “Is this like the last meal of a condemned man?” he asked.

  She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve done something to make you angry,” he said. “What, exactly?”

  “Guess.”

  He was trying to be polite, while she insisted on making this difficult. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

  “I met someone this week,” Harper replied. “A patient named Vanessa Ayres.”

  Peter’s hands went cold. “I meant to tell you.”

  “When?”

  “Today.” He resented being treated like a criminal. “But I was under no obligation to reveal my identity.”

  “You nearly got me fired!” Tears glimmered behind the anger. “I still might be! When I prepped Vanessa, I had no way of knowing she was your surrogate or that you were using my eggs. Now I’ve breached patient confidentiality. That’s a serious offense.”

  Regret crowded out his annoyance. “Mrs. Ayres isn’t seeing the doctor you work for.” He’d checked on that as a precaution.

&n
bsp; “No—just her partner!” Harper cried. “The nurses help each other when the office gets busy.”

  He could see now how naive he’d been. Willfully blind, to be more accurate. “How did she react?”

  “I didn’t tell her.” Harper pressed her lips so tightly they turned white.

  Peter ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture that Angela had cured him of long ago. Or so he’d believed. “I didn’t expect for you to find out like this.”

  “You didn’t expect for me to find out at all!”

  On the verge of arguing, he halted. “You’re right, I didn’t. Until a couple of days ago, when I had a talk with my doctor. With Cole.” Might as well come clean about that, as well.

  She folded her arms. “Are you going to sue me?”

  The idea had never occurred to him. “Certainly not.”

  “Even if I withdraw?”

  A dark knot formed in Peter’s gut. He could have other children, but he wanted hers. And to keep her friendship. Impulsively, he reached across the table to touch her hand. “Please don’t give up on me.”

  “I should!” But she didn’t jerk away.

  “And I’d deserve it.”

  Apparently he’d said the right thing, because her forehead smoothed. “What on earth were you thinking, choosing me in the first place?”

  He let the truth spill out. “That you’re a wonderful mother and you have an adorable child. And that it would mean a lot that my children came from you.” He explained about recognizing her at sports camp, returning to the website and reaching his conclusion. “I didn’t realize initially that we’d be seeing this much of each other.”

  “When you signed the papers to hire me, you should have told me. It would have been the decent thing to do.”

  She had a good point. “Look, I tend to be reserved, which means I don’t always communicate well,” Peter admitted. “When there’s a lot at stake, I weigh things carefully.”

  “Not carefully enough.” She shook her head. “Okay, that was uncalled for. But it feels like you took advantage of me.”

  Had he? Not intentionally, Peter thought. “I believed...well, convinced myself that it didn’t matter, since you’d agreed to donate eggs without meeting the parents. I can see now I was wrong.”

  She stared down at the table, clearly fighting her emotions. This had affected her strongly, and that bothered him, a lot.

  “Do you want me to write to your doctors taking all the responsibility?” Peter asked. “You really think they might fire you?”

  “It’s possible.” She swallowed. “Even a reprimand in my file could hurt my future prospects.”

  “Say the word and I’ll write to them, or call them, or both.”

  “Okay. It might help.”

  She hadn’t said whether she intended to go ahead with providing eggs. Did he dare discuss the subject further? As Peter had said, he tended to be reticent in important matters. Speaking up risked encouraging her to withdraw.

  On the other hand, keeping quiet had caused nothing but trouble. “May I tell you what I’m most afraid of?” he asked. “It’s the reason I didn’t tell you sooner.”

  Harper swallowed, and then met his gaze. “Go ahead.” The jut of her chin indicated she was reserving judgment.

  “These are the children I dreamed of having with Angela,” Peter said. “This was our journey, and then cancer tore us apart. I lost her. I can’t lose them, too. I was afraid that if you were involved with the pregnancy and saw the baby or babies, you wouldn’t be able to let go.”

  For a moment, she showed no reaction. Then she surprised him by saying, “Let me tell you my dream.”

  He reminded himself to breathe. “Please do.”

  “It’s a real dream.” She ducked her head. “I mean, it’s not a wish or a fantasy, it’s something that comes to me while I’m sleeping. Over and over.”

  With no idea where this might be heading, Peter merely waited.

  “I’m out in a field.” Harper studied her clasped hands. They were pretty hands, with long tapered fingers and lightly polished nails. She’d moved her wedding ring to the right side, he noted. “There are two boys playing. Sometimes they’re toddlers, other times they might be five or six.”

  “Two boys?” he repeated.

  A quick nod. “There’s a shadowy figure playing with them. A man, but I can’t make out his face. They’re playing catch, or tag—it varies.”

  “I see.” But he didn’t.

  “Nobody realizes I’m there, and I think that’s because I’m not.” Although tears glittered on her lashes, Harper met Peter’s gaze squarely. “I have the sense that I’m meant to give them life. That’s all. They won’t be my sons. They’re supposed to be born and I’m supposed to make that happen.”

  “And let them go.”

  “Exactly.”

  He’d never realized her involvement was so powerful—or so unselfish. “Angela, I’m sorry.”

  “You called me Angela.”

  “What?” He had, he realized with a guilty pang. “I mean, Harper, I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”

  “You love these little guys, even though they don’t exist yet,” she observed.

  He had no way to express the emotions swelling inside him, except to say, “I do.”

  “Me, too, but not the same way.” Harper fiddled with the cup of coffee that she hadn’t touched until now. “Still, it’s a good thing you’re moving. You’re right. I might start to get attached if I watched them grow up. But, Peter, I’m prepared to say goodbye to them. That’s what I’ve intended from the beginning, and I’ll stick with it, if you still want my eggs.”

  She was leaving the decision to him? Withdrawing wasn’t an option, from Peter’s perspective. Not that he believed in premonitions, exactly, yet her dream made these “little guys,” as she put it, all the more real.

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “I understand that it’s your journey with Angela. Some people are bonded for a lifetime. I don’t know if that’s the case with you....”

  “I believe it is.”

  “It wasn’t for me,” Harper went on. “I miss Sean, but for me, the journey continues without him. As for being an egg donor, this is just one leg of the trip. Once it’s over, you’ll leave and Mia and I will have new adventures. I only hope she won’t grow too attached.”

  “To me or the babies?”

  “Both.” Frowning, she said, “I’m trying not to discuss the process too much with her. It’s difficult, though.”

  Peter wasn’t sure how to keep the little girl at arm’s length. She was so cute, he couldn’t help being fond of her. “I guess we should explain about my plans to leave.”

  “I’ll do it,” Harper told him. “And while we’re working on the book, we need to be careful around her not to act as if we’re co-parenting.”

  “You’re right.” Peter would rather not pull back from Mia. Still, Harper was right. “Now where do we go from here?”

  “In terms of the book or the babies?”

  “Both,” he said.

  Harper indicated the folder. “Why don’t you show me what’s in there, and we’ll figure it out.”

  It seemed a good place to start. “Here’s how I thought we’d organize it,” he began, and took out the papers.

  Chapter Nine

  Grateful though she was for their forthright discussion, Harper kept one fact to herself: that, strangely enough, it wasn’t the prospect of giving up the babies that hurt most. It was the reminder that, in his heart, Peter belonged to his late wife, and always would.

  However, she accepted that. It’s not as if I wasn’t warned.

  And now that they’d moved past the touchy issues, Peter was bur
sting with ideas for their book. He radiated excitement as they reviewed his outline and discussed how to see insects from a child’s perspective. He praised her new photos and the pictures Mia had shot, as well.

  “Why not use both?” Peter asked. “Not for every insect, but we could incorporate her images and comments here and there. It brings a whole new dimension.”

  “Make her a co-author?” What a valuable experience for Mia. “That’s a great idea.”

  “She’ll deserve a third of the earnings, assuming there are any,” Peter said with a lopsided grin.

  “For her education fund.” Harper could have hugged him. Well, almost.

  She decided to consider the next few months as a special period—limited and unique, a time when babies might grow and a book take shape. By next summer, this part of her life would be over. She planned to cherish every moment, and then, like a butterfly from its cocoon, leave it behind.

  “What do you think about breaking up some of the text into sections that will fit inside boxes?” he asked. “It’ll help hold the reader’s attention.”

  “And it’s visually appealing, too.” Returning her attention to the printout, Harper bent her head close to his and went to work.

  * * *

  “LOOKIT! LOOKIT! LOOKIT!” Inside the Bear and Doll Boutique, Mia raised her cell phone to take pictures of a shelf of bears costumed as fairy tale characters. “Can we use these, Mommy?”

  Harper laughed. Every morning that week, they’d arisen early to catch the insects unawares. “Honey, we aren’t writing a book about bears.”

  “I’ll make my own book, like Peter showed us.” Mia had saved the instruction sheet from her birthday party.

  “Good idea.” Harper guided her daughter out of the path of several older children. The store was crowded today because the proprietor, Mrs. Humphreys, was holding a youth workshop on how to make doll clothes.

  At the counter, Harper paid her daughter’s fee. “Are you sure it’s all right to leave Mia here for an hour?” she asked the cheerful older woman who’d been a friend of Harper’s mother. “I’ll be a few doors down at A Memorable Decor.”

  “She’ll do fine,” Ada assured her. “I’m happy to keep an eye on her.”