“It’s my treat,” Harper protested, appearing beside him. “I proposed this.”
“He-men like me are supposed to pay,” he teased.
That brought an ironic smile. “Does that mean you have to carry me over the puddles?”
“No danger of puddles,” he responded cheerfully. “I’m sure the arboretum never overwaters.”
“Good, because I’d give you a hernia.”
“Oh, in your case, I’d use a fireman’s carry,” he said.
A poke in the ribs greeted this remark. Without waiting for his response, she turned away and aimed her camera at a flower. Or so he thought, until he zeroed in on her subject: a yellow butterfly with black edging and other distinctive markings.
“How did you spot that?” he asked. “It’s camouflaged amid all the flowers.”
“Photographer’s eye.” Harper knelt to get a better angle.
Peter waited, content to view the passersby. A couple of children skipped along, chattering gaily. A young woman with Down syndrome spread her arms, luxuriating in the joy of the moment until her parents tugged her along. A group that he guessed were Japanese tourists paused to listen to their guide, and then followed her inside.
After the butterfly took its leave, he and Harper studied a map of the grounds. They decided to head for the primitive plants section in the woodlands garden. “Plants from the Jurassic period,” Harper said as they navigated the path. “How fascinating.”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll spot a few dinosaurs lurking about,” Peter said.
“Can dinosaurs lurk?” Harper peered skyward, as if a brontosaurus—or, more accurately, an apatosaurus—might appear. “If there are any, I’m sure they’d loom.”
“There were small dinosaurs, too,” he observed. “And—more appropriate to our subject—giant insects.”
Harper wrinkled her nose. “Too big to step on?”
“Depends on your shoe size,” Peter said. “Chinese scientists have found fossils of flealike creatures ten times the size of modern fleas. They had large claws and a proboscis like a hypodermic needle.”
She shuddered. “How do you know this stuff?”
“Internet,” he said. “I had all day yesterday to prepare.”
They reached the primitive plants area, thick with ferns. “For the book?”
“And to impress you,” he conceded.
Instead of the warm reaction he’d hoped for, Harper trained her gaze on a magnolia, which scientists believed had been one of the earliest flowering plants on earth. “As long as we’re discussing the book...”
“Hold on.” First, Peter wanted to address something that had been bothering him. “I’m sorry if I behaved inappropriately the other night.”
“Mia’s fine.” To his puzzled look, she explained, “Visiting the cemetery was good for her. She requested a video of Sean, and that’s the first time she’s done that.”
“Glad to hear it.” That wasn’t his point, though. “About the kiss. I realized I may have given you the wrong impression. We agreed to be friends, and that’s how I’d like to keep things.”
Harper tensed. “That may not be possible.”
“Why not?” He’d assumed that, once he cleared the air, she’d have no reason to distance herself.
She took a deep breath. “Peter, I’m getting too attached to the idea of those babies. This is too hard for me.”
That was the problem? “It’s the first you’ve mentioned it.”
“I know and I apologize.” Her eyes meeting his at last, Harper rushed on. “I keep wanting to hold them and thinking about what they’ll be like as they grow. I can’t seem to let go emotionally. It’s best if I stop seeing you.”
A cold chill ran through Peter. He’d looked forward to sharing this pregnancy with her, and her daughter. It felt as if she were casting him into some outer darkness. “Mia asked if I’d bring the babies to visit later, and I said I would.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Harper responded sharply. “She’s starting to feel like they’re part of our family.”
Angela would never have pushed him away like this, Peter thought. She’d have taken his hands in hers, gently explained what mattered and guided him to her point of view. But he didn’t want to think about Angela at the moment. He wanted go on being friends with Harper.
Only he didn’t know how to make his point without sounding as if...well, as if he were offering more emotional involvement than he was capable of. And more, evidently, than Harper was willing to accept.
“Let’s work on the book by email from now on,” she said. “We’ve settled the important decisions about it, anyway.”
Peter stepped aside to make room for a man in a wheelchair and his companion. When they’d gone on, he said, “Let’s think this over and talk again. There has to be a better way to handle it.”
“Email will be fine,” she said stubbornly.
“Not just about the book.”
“Then what?”
There was more going on than she’d told him, Peter sensed, but he had no idea what. Before he could pull his thoughts together, his phone rang.
The name Tom Ayres leaped out at him. Why was Vanessa’s husband calling him?
“I’d better take this,” he said.
* * *
HARPER WASN’T SURE WHAT she’d expected from Peter. Since he’d made it plain he had no personal interest in her, why was he arguing about completing the book by email?
She forgot all that as she listened to his side of the conversation. “Is she sure?...Isn’t it too early?” He looked stricken.
By the time he clicked off, a hard knot inside warned of what was coming. Ten days since the egg transfer. Vanessa’s period must have started.
Peter planted his hands on his hips, chest heaving as if he’d run a race. When he straightened, his face was pale.
“No babies,” Harper guessed.
A nod. “We should go.” Without waiting for an answer, he started back along the path.
She hurried in his wake. Rationally, they’d both known the odds of achieving a pregnancy on the first try were no better than one in three. And Vanessa could try again with the frozen embryos. But this hurt, and if it bothered her, it must be even worse for him.
Harper might have tried to comfort Peter, but the timing was terrible. From the set of his shoulders and length of his stride, he seemed angry.
In the parking lot, he finally halted and let her catch up. “This is hard to deal with.” The moisture in his eyes showed how hard. “The baby became real to me. I didn’t realize how much.”
A dark sense of loss filled Harper, as well. “Me, too. Not the same way, but...”
“But, as you said, you were growing too attached.”
To him, also. She hadn’t realized how much she’d longed to see him with a baby in his arms. Their baby, or his baby—she couldn’t think straight, so she deflected. “It’s going to be difficult breaking the news to Mia.”
“We shouldn’t have built up her expectations.”
“I tried not to, but...” She’d tried not to do a lot of things, Harper thought regretfully. “Vanessa will try again, won’t she?”
“Yes.” He paused, his expression masked. “We’ll use the frozen embryos. If that doesn’t do it, I can’t ask you to go through this process again.”
Harper had to admit, she wasn’t sure she could bear it. “Peter, I’m sorry.”
“You were right about using email.” His frayed voice showed how hard he was struggling to speak calmly. “I hope Mia won’t feel that I’m abandoning her.”
“She knows you’re moving, anyway.” Harper longed to touch his cheek. They ought to share their sorrow and renew their hope together.
That was what couples did. But the
y weren’t a couple.
“The next time will succeed,” she said. “I suppose it’s naive to believe in my dream, but I do.”
“Send me the photos you took today and I’ll fit them into the text,” Peter said.
“Will do.”
“See you.” Jaw clenched, he walked to his van.
Losing these babies—embryos, Harper reminded herself—had hit him hard. But the loss only underscored how far apart they were, and always would be.
As she slid behind the driver’s wheel, she blinked back a sheen of tears. Those little boys...maybe they weren’t meant to be. Or maybe she’d have to wait until she found another man to love. A man whose heart wasn’t forever committed to someone else.
She’d intended to go on a journey of discovery with this donation. It wasn’t turning out to be the journey she’d envisioned.
* * *
“I NEARLY SAVED A WHITEFLY for you.” Adrienne made a face. “But, Harper, friendship only goes so far.”
“Very funny.”
“Seriously, I do like to help.”
“You’ve done more than your share.” Harper had captured several interesting insects in her friend’s vegetable garden over the past month or so. It was fortunate she’d racked up so many images, because in the week since she and Peter parted ways, she’d found it almost impossible to pick up her camera.
She’d brought it to Adrienne’s house today, but only to document the wedding/baby shower. They’d decked out the family room with white wedding bells and blue-and-pink baby cutouts, and set out refreshments: a fruit tray, vegetables and dip, cakes and cookies and a table of party favors.
Through a rear window, Harper watched Reggie and Mia romping in the large yard. The little girl had insisted on wearing the same sunny yellow dress she’d put on for church. Although it was likely to be ruined by the time the guests arrived, Harper didn’t care. She was glad to see her daughter enjoying herself.
It had been a rough week, with both of them down in the dumps. Mia had cried when she learned there wouldn’t be any babies this time, and she kept asking for Peter. When told he had to prepare for the start of school, she’d responded that she had to do that, too, which to her meant reading picture books aloud to Po. The one Peter had given her was the favorite.
Today, as Harper helped set up for the party, she yearned to unload her feelings, which still felt raw. But although she and Adrienne were friends, they’d never shared the kind of intimacy she’d had with Vicki. That was partly because, while growing up, Harper had been in awe of the older, highly focused Adrienne, and that hadn’t changed in later years when she became an obstetrician.
Even after Adrienne moved into this family home three years ago, providing stability to Reggie as Vicki’s bipolar disorder worsened, she’d remained an intimidating figure. Then, grief at Vicki’s death had brought them together these past eight months, along with the need to support each other as single parents.
Now, with nearly an hour to spare, they were relaxing in the family room. “How’s the picture book progressing?” Adrienne smoothed her blond hair, which she’d pulled back with a jeweled clip.
“I’m nearly finished with the photos, unless he thinks of anything we’re lacking.” Harper fingered her camera case.
“What’s going on between you two, anyway?”
“You mean me and Peter?”
“Is there anyone else?”
“No, but...” Harper nearly shrugged off the topic. Oh, who was she kidding? Adrienne had seen how they interacted at the birthday party, and probably received an earful from Mia. “We were getting too close.”
“Too close for whom?”
“For him. And me.” She sighed. “We were great pals—until I fell for him.”
“You’re sure he doesn’t feel the same way?” her friend probed.
“There’s only room in his heart for one woman, and that’s Angela.” Harper explained about him weeping over his wife’s grave. “To him, anything beyond friendship is out of the question. I was more vulnerable than I’d expected, so I broke it off. Not that there was much to break off, except in my imagination.”
“Sounds like you miss him.” Adrienne shifted her perch on a well-worn sofa that had been freshened with lacy pillows. Above her, a montage showed photos of her parents, of her and Vicki growing up and of Reggie as an infant.
None included his father, whom Harper only vaguely recalled meeting when he and Vicki were dating. He’d left town soon after his son’s birth and never so much as sent a dime to help his son. Although she and Stacy had urged Vicki to sue for child support, she’d refused.
Peter was nothing like that. If he were, she wouldn’t hurt so intensely. All week, she’d felt as if someone had yanked a rug from beneath her feet. Vanessa’s failure to conceive had contributed to her moodiness, but also to her concern for how Peter might be reacting to the loss.
“Any words of advice?” Harper asked.
“About what?”
“Getting over him,” she said. “I don’t know much about relationships. It’s not as if I dated much before I got married. Sean was the only man I ever cared about.”
“What makes you think I know anything about relationships?” Adrienne asked.
“Well, you’re a doctor,” Harper noted. “And older.” During their teen years, when the five-year age gap seemed enormous, Adrienne had been a font of information about boys.
“I’ve never been married.” The other woman stretched. “I was engaged once, but that fell apart.”
“Why?” Harper ventured. She didn’t mean to be nosy, but she’d opened up about her own problems.
Adrienne shrugged. “It was during my residency. My fiancé was an attending physician who said he didn’t care for kids. Then he got one of the nurses pregnant. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to marry her and play daddy.”
“What a jerk.” Harper’s heart went out to her friend, who wasn’t able to have children. As a teenager, she’d undergone an emergency hysterectomy following a car crash. The driver, her then-boyfriend, had been drunk.
“I’ve been over it for a long time.” Adrienne straightened as a car rolled down the street, stopping nearby. “I’m glad I can be here for Reggie and that I have him. Other than that, I’ve fantasized about finding the right man, but that’s hardly likely, is it?”
“I’m beginning to think men aren’t worth the trouble.”
“Me, too.” Glancing at a cutout set of wedding bells adorning the refreshment table, Adrienne chuckled. “Thank goodness it’s worked out better for Stacy. That’s probably her and her mom now.”
Outside, Harper heard familiar voices, and then the bell rang. Time to break out the party favors and silly games. And to wonder why she, despite having had a happy marriage to Sean, had reached the same conclusion about men as Adrienne.
Chapter Fourteen
Bad luck comes in threes.
Peter didn’t believe in superstitions, but Angela had. Once, after a fender-bender parking lot accident was followed by a twisted ankle at home, she’d deliberately broken a teacup in hopes of forestalling a third mishap. He couldn’t recall now whether it had worked.
He almost hoped the old saying was true, because if so, by now he was due for some good luck, he reflected as he parked outside his parents’ house on a Saturday morning in late September. As he went to the door, Peter averted his gaze from the for-sale sign on the lawn. No sense dwelling on how sad he felt about saying goodbye to this beloved home.
He was still reeling from his recent triple dose of bad luck. Harper’s withdrawal had hit him harder than he’d expected. The emailed photos only reminded him of how much he longed to be sitting beside her, joking and talking.
The second misfortune had been Vanessa’s failure to implant, although there was h
ope again. This past week, she’d undergone a transfer of the remaining three embryos. As hard as Peter tried not to dwell on what might be happening inside her, fear and longing battled through his heart. This was the last chance with Harper’s eggs. If it didn’t work, then what?
Yet he’d had little time to dwell on that, thanks to his third stroke of bad luck. And how was he going to tell his parents about that?
When he rang the bell, his mother opened it so fast, she must have been watching out the window. “Hi, sweetie!” Kerry gave him a hug. “I don’t know how we let a whole month go by.” They hadn’t met since his sister’s wedding, although they’d talked on the phone.
“It’s not like we aren’t in touch.”
“There’s no substitute for personal contact.” His dad gave him a clap on the shoulder.
Peter rubbed his arm, feigning pain. “Mercifully.” Why were both parents waiting at the door? Eager for word of the babies? “It’s too soon for news from Vanessa.”
“We’re keeping our fingers crossed.” His mom led the way into the dining room. Tablecloth, flowers, holiday china. She’d set a fancy table for a simple brunch.
“This is beautiful,” Peter told her. “What’s the occasion?”
“Having you over is always an occasion,” she said, a little too brightly.
“Mom?”
“Food’s ready.” She ducked into the kitchen.
The aroma of bacon was soon joined by the irresistible sight of pancakes and scrambled eggs. “What a feast.” Peter appreciated all this work. He was the one who’d requested that they eat early, since he planned to attend Cole’s wedding that afternoon.
“We’ve been reading about some belt-tightening in your school district,” Rod said as they passed the serving plates. “I hope that hasn’t affected you.”
His Baby Dream (Safe Harbor Medical) Page 14