His Baby Dream (Safe Harbor Medical) (5 page)

“No problem,” said Nora Franco, appearing behind them. With a smile, the obstetrician added, “I love the way you two have bonded.”

“I wonder if my triplets can sense when they’re in the same room as their half siblings,” Stacy mused as she preceded them inside.

Una, reclining on an examining table as Zora readied her equipment, beamed at them. “You bet they can!”

Zora and Stacy exchanged quick nods of acknowledgment. Working at the same complex had been awkward for the two women, but recently they’d reached a sort of truce.

Stacy went to hold Una’s hand. The technician spread gel on the patient’s abdomen and gently applied the paddle-shaped sensor device. On the monitor, black and white eddies yielded to the curling shapes of two babies.

Instinctively, Harper touched her own flat stomach, recalling when she’d undergone this experience with Mia. What a miracle, to see her little girl for the first time. Sean had practically levitated off the floor.

She got an extra squiggle of exhilaration as she recalled the phone message awaiting her response. Maybe she’d been chosen. In a few months, she might be watching her own genetic baby or babies inside the surrogate.

On the screen, the little ones’ hands met over their hearts. As one of the pair shifted toward the other, Una said, “It almost looks like they’re playing.”

“They might be,” Nora said. “We now know that twins do interact in the womb.”

“Interact how?” Stacy asked.

“Researchers taped ultrasound images of twins and studied the recordings,” the doctor explained. “It became clear that the fetuses were deliberately stroking each other.”

“So when a mother pats her tummy and gets a bump in return, that’s intentional?” Harper had loved when that happened with Mia.

“Apparently so.” Nora smiled. “Of course, we moms have always suspected as much, haven’t we?”

Heads nodded and warm fellowship filled the room. Except for Zora, Harper noted; the ultrasound tech stayed focused on her work, lips pressed tightly together. Unlike the other women, she had no children.

“Can you tell the gender?” Una asked.

“It’s kind of early.” The technician shot a questioning look at the doctor. “It may be another month before we can tell.”

“It depends on the babies,” Nora said. “If they want to show us by moving into the right positions, we can make a good guess.”

At Una’s urging, the paddle moved across her abdomen, pressing more firmly. As the babies wiggled, the tech said, “There! That might be a boy.”

“He appears to have the right equipment,” Nora observed.

“How cute!” Una pumped the air. “Now, is he having a brother or a sister?”

After a few more minutes, the doctor said, “There she goes! Well, I think it’s a she. Don’t hold me to that.”

“A boy and a girl.” Una grinned. “Just what I want. But I’d be happy with two of a kind.”

Now that she’d learned the news, Harper slipped out of the room. They didn’t need her there, and she was missing her lunch break.

More important, she had a phone call to return.

Chapter Five

The other staffers must have gone out for lunch, Harper noted as she entered the break room. Grateful for the privacy, she returned Melissa’s call.

“Good news!” the coordinator said after greeting her. “You’ve been selected as a donor.”

The room blurred, and Harper leaned against the wall for support. Hard to believe this was really happening. Those two little boys wouldn’t remain a fantasy much longer.

“Do they want to meet me?” she asked.

“He said that isn’t necessary.” In the background, the clink of dishes indicated Melissa was in the hospital cafeteria. “Hold on. I don’t want anyone overhearing our conversation.”

He? Harper wondered while she waited for the coordinator to move to a more private place. A single dad? Although Harper had indicated on the form that she was willing to work with a single parent, she’d been picturing a couple, or possibly a single mom.

After a moment, Melissa spoke again. “He’s selected a surrogate and she’s good to go this month.”

A surrogate. So she wouldn’t be dealing with a happy, loving mom like Una. But obviously not, with a single father involved.

Well, so what? Harper trusted the program, and fate. Someone had chosen her to be the mother of his child. That was what counted.

“We can start coordinating your cycles right away if that’s all right,” Melissa continued.

Right away? Something so momentous seemed like it ought to take longer. Still, Harper saw no reason to delay.

During the first part of the donation process, the egg donor’s and the recipient’s menstrual cycles had to be synchronized through the use of birth control pills. That ensured that the mom or, in this case, the surrogate would be physically ready to receive the eggs when they were mature. It was a delicate, intimate process that Harper had looked forward to sharing with the other woman.

“Will I be meeting the surrogate?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Melissa replied gently. “I realize that’s a letdown, after you’ve psyched yourself up, but I did tell you that your experience might differ from Stacy’s.”

Harper struggled to adjust to the notion that she’d be undergoing this process alone, except for the staff’s support. After three to six weeks of preparation, her eggs—hopefully a dozen or more—would be harvested. There’d be no mom or dad to witness the thrilling event. After the eggs were fertilized, healthy embryos would be implanted in the surrogate.

The process loomed as cold and impersonal, not what Harper had imagined. But while she had the right to change her mind, that didn’t seem fair. She’d agreed to this. Also, how would she explain a change of heart to Mia, after all the buildup about giving the gift of life to a family?

Onto her mental landscape flashed an image of two little boys romping in a field, giggling and playing catch with a blurry figure.
Their father.

This wasn’t about Harper. It was about her sons. No,
his
sons.

“I take it the father has been carefully screened?” Despite knowing the answer, she craved reassurance.

“He’s a widower,” Melissa told her. “He works with children professionally. That’s all I can reveal, but we’ve run a background check and a psychological profile, as with all our parents, and he’ll make a wonderful dad.”

A widower who worked with children. For some reason, Peter came to mind. But he’d never mentioned trying to have kids and, besides, that description must fit a lot of men.

He was in her thoughts because she’d seen him this morning when she dropped off her daughter. Harper could have sworn Peter’s expression had brightened when he greeted her, although that might be wishful thinking.

In that case, what was she wishing for?

She returned her attention to the phone. “When do we start?”

“Dr. Sargent can see you this afternoon, if Dr. Franco will spare you for a little while.” Obstetrician Zack Sargent, husband of program director Jan Garcia, would be supervising Harper’s care and harvesting the eggs.

She swallowed a lump in her throat.
No one promised you’d be able to bond with the children’s parents.

Concentrating on the afternoon’s schedule, she did some quick calculations. Nora’s partner, Dr. Paige Brennan, took off Friday afternoons to spend with her five-month-old daughter. Paige’s nurse, Keely Randolph, stayed a few hours afterward to order supplies and catch up on other tasks. She might be willing to fill in for Harper. “I’ll see if I can duck out. Can I call you right back?”

“Absolutely,” Melissa assured her.

A few minutes later, Harper had coordinated the plans. After a bite of her sandwich, she was on her way to Dr. Sargent’s office, on the same floor as Nora’s.

* * *

B
ETWEEN
WORKING
AND
moving ahead with his plans, Peter’s week flew by. He designated Harper as the egg donor, signed legal papers and transferred into his checking account the money to pay out in the coming month.

The wheels were turning. If all went well, in less than a year, he’d become a father. On Saturday night, sitting in his living room surrounded by Angela’s cabinets and curios, Peter found himself talking to her.

“We were supposed to go on this journey together.” He addressed an angel figurine that reminded him of his wife. About seven inches high with wings ornamented by flower designs, the girl clutched an armful of daisies to her chest. “You told me to use your life insurance to have children, so you’re part of this, too. I’m not leaving you behind, honey. I will never do that.”

He didn’t care if someone else might consider him foolish. He wanted to reassure Angela, and himself, that they were in this together.

In the quiet room, he listened to the hum of electricity and the distant murmur of cars. The figurine’s expression remained serene.

“If it’s a little girl, I’ll name her after you,” he promised. “If it’s a boy, well, all bets are off.” Her father’s name had been Cecil, and Peter was not going to burden his son with that.

Something nagged at the back of his mind. It had to do with Harper.

Although he’d made a rational decision not to reveal his involvement, Peter wasn’t entirely satisfied with that. He had no desire to take advantage of her.

On the other hand, as much as he valued Harper’s contribution and as much as he liked and respected her, this wasn’t their journey as a couple. Each of them had a separate path in life.

Perhaps it would be a mistake to attend her daughter’s party tomorrow. He didn’t mean to give the impression that he was an intimate part of their world. But how could he disappoint Mia? On Friday afternoon, she’d been jumping up and down with excitement, reminding him to arrive at two o’clock.

Cutting them off would be cruel. It might also raise questions in Harper’s mind. Peter knew he ran a risk of having her discover the truth, since she worked next door to the hospital.

He’d attend tomorrow. But after that, Peter needed to ease out of her life. It was the best course for everyone.

* * *

H
ARPER
DIDN
’
T
RUSH
TO
spread the news to her friends. She’d rather not explain over the phone or by email that she’d been selected by a single dad, that he didn’t want to meet her and that she was beginning the process already. Better to wait and tell them in person.

On Saturday, she’d been too busy preparing for the party to see anyone. Now, on Sunday, she felt a twist of bittersweet longing as she welcomed Stacy and Cole, who’d come early to help.

Two days ago, she’d enjoyed seeing Stacy and Una’s shared happiness at the ultrasound. Now she struggled to absorb her own very different reality.

You have to tell her.
And she would. Later.

On Friday, after a checkup to confirm she remained in good health, Zack Sargent had provided her with the birth control pills to start synchronizing her cycle and the surrogate’s. Although Harper expected to see him today when he and Jan dropped off their daughters, they certainly wouldn’t be discussing her medical treatment.

For now, she concentrated on organizing the refreshments. Attempting to help, Mia chattered and jumped about until she knocked over a stack of plastic cups.

“I’m sorry, Mommy.” She scooped them up.

“No harm done.”

It was a relief when Adrienne arrived with Reggie and the children exploded out the door. He and Mia chased each other around the patio, batting at the green balloons and streamers that were supposed to resemble vines. They put on antenna headbands Harper had made and hopped about shaking the black pipe cleaners and white pompoms. Po retreated, meowing in distress, until Harper carted him to the safety of the laundry room.

She emerged to see Adrienne, her long blond hair clipped back, pacing off the length of a competition course in the backyard. She’d agreed to organize outdoor games to intersperse with the bug hunt.

Harper went outside to welcome her friend. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“As if you didn’t help me whenever I need it.” Adrienne displayed a bag filled with plastic bugs. “I brought these as prizes. Everybody can take home a handful.”

“Those are darling.” Taking a closer look, Harper couldn’t help murmuring, “And creepy, too.”

“Vicki and I used to sneak toy spiders into each other’s beds.” As always at the mention of her late sister, a shadow crossed Adrienne’s face. “Sometimes months would go by. Just when I’d almost forgotten them, she’d scare the heck out of me. Or I’d do it to her. It was fun.”

“I miss her, too.” Harper and Stacy had been close to Vicki since junior high, sharing youthful crushes, playing computer games and helping one another with homework. When Harper’s father died, it was Vicki and Stacy who’d stood by her, just as much as Sean.

When Vicki developed bipolar disorder, they’d rallied around her. But as she reached her twenties, her condition had deteriorated, especially after Reggie was born. Abandoned by the little boy’s father, Vicki had begun abusing alcohol.

Last New Year’s Eve, their friend had gone out drinking and crashed her car into a telephone pole. She’d died at the scene. It was lucky that Adrienne had already moved into the family’s home and taken on much of the responsibility for Reggie.

The doorbell rang, summoning Harper into the house. It was seven-year-old Fiona Denny with her stepmother, Patty. With barely a “Hi, Harper,” the little girl raced outside to join Mia and Reggie.

“She loves anything to do with science, just like her dad,” Patty said. An embryologist, Alec Denny was director of laboratories for the fertility program. “Watch out or she’ll start dissecting insects with a kitchen knife.”

“She does that?” Harper asked.

“Not yet, but we’ve had to stitch all her stuffed animals back together.” Patty shook her head. “Her dad thinks she ready to start doing experiments for real. I’m glad he’s willing to help. My reaction to bugs is to step on them.”

Harper remembered what Peter had said. “You’re lucky she doesn’t bring home snakes.”

“Oh, I’d shoot those.” A former police officer, Patty now worked as a private detective.

“You still carry a gun?” Harper had never seen her armed.

“No, but I practice at the gun range.” Patty spotted a family approaching the open door. “Oh, hey, folks!”

Dr. Zack Sargent and his wife, Jan Garcia, had brought their daughters, Kimmie and Berry. When she invited them to the party, Harper hadn’t imagined that she’d be working with Zack so soon. But naturally they kept private and work lives separate.

There was no time to talk, with more children showing up. While Stacy and Cole were mixing the punch and setting out snacks, Harper distributed antenna headbands and magnifying lenses.

Gifts piled up on a side table. Outside, kids ran laughing and giggling under Adrienne and Patty’s supervision. Declining their offer of help, she sent Zack and Jan to enjoy a rare child-free day. The parents of the other kids, Mia’s school friends, didn’t stick around, which was fine with Harper.

Where was Peter? It was nearly two-thirty, and no sign of him yet.

Hesitant to launch the bug hunt without him, Harper suggested Adrienne start the grasshopper jumping contest. Each child leaped in turn, with Patty marking the spot. The goal was to beat their own best distance. Those who succeeded could pick a plastic creepy-crawly from the bag.

With matters well in hand, Harper headed for the kitchen. Stacy and Cole appeared to be squabbling over the birthday cake. When they saw her, a guilty expression flashed over Cole’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Harper asked.

Stacy pointed at the frosted carrot cake, baked in a flat sheet. Cole had methodically traced a grid pattern over the surface—preparing to cut it into squares—and messed up the words
Happy Seventh Birthday, Mia.

“I forgot about the candle thing,” the surgeon said.

“How could you do that?” his fiancée scolded. “The kids haven’t even seen it yet.”

“My mother wasn’t the birthday party type,” Cole reminded her.

“No harm done.” Harper thought fast. “We’ll tell the kids you prepared it for surgery. A lot of them have parents in the medical field. They’ll understand.”

“Brilliant,” Stacy said.

“This way they can eat sooner, too,” her husband observed.

Kimmie Sargent wandered inside. “I need to go to the bathroom.” When Harper pointed her in the right direction, she hurried off.

Stacy watched her with a motherly expression. “I can’t wait to find out if we’re having a little girl. I mean, out of three, the odds are pretty good, wouldn’t you say?”

“It isn’t hard to calculate,” Cole told her. “Each child has a one-in-two chance of being a girl or a boy. You multiply that―”

His wife raised her hands. “It isn’t all probabilities. Harper’s certain she’s got two little boys waiting to be born.”

Cole merely looked confused.

“I hope someone picks you soon,” Stacy said.

It was the perfect opening, so Harper jumped in. “As a matter of fact, I found out yesterday that I’ve been chosen.”