Once Mia was settled, Harper checked her watch. It was nearly 10:00 a.m., when she’d arranged to meet Stacy at the antiques store. In addition to furnishings, it carried vintage clothing and had just received a shipment of bridal gowns.
She found her friend waiting in a narrow aisle lined with desks, mirrors and ottomans. “I peeked already,” Stacy noted as they wended their way to the rear of the shop. “You’d be surprised how relaxed some of the waistlines are.”
“I guess they had pregnant brides in the old days, too.” Harper noticed how markedly her friend’s bulge had grown in the two weeks since the birthday party. Three babies meant triple the expansion.
“Not such old days.” Stacy checked a descriptive tag. “This is from the 1970s. The hippie era.”
“Forty years ago! That’s old,” Harper said.
“Look at this one.” Stacy lifted down an elegant dress with cap sleeves and a high waist.
A saleslady appeared at her elbow. “Shall I put that in a dressing room for you?”
“Yes, please.”
Spotting a couple of dresses on another rack, Harper went to investigate. “This is beautiful.” She lifted down a Grecian-style gown with a wrapped empire waistline. Whirling, she couldn’t resist holding it against herself.
“Oh, my goodness, are you getting married? Congratulations.”
Startled, she met the friendly gaze of the woman she’d last seen on an examining table: Vanessa Ayres. “Uh, hello.”
“Funny how I keep running into you.” The surrogate spread her hands expressively. “Peter Gladstone called a few days ago to explain that you’re the egg donor and to apologize for putting us both in such a ticklish position. I was hoping we’d have a chance to talk.”
“And here we are.” As good as his word, Peter had taken the initiative in straightening out matters, with Vanessa and with the hospital administrators. On Monday, Harper had been on edge until Nora reassured her that all was well, although the hospital’s attorney had complained about the delay in informing him.
“This is beautiful.” The strawberry-blonde fingered the chiffon fabric.
“It’s not for me,” Harper said. “Stace?”
Her friend swung around from the row of dresses. “Hello?”
Harper made introductions and explained that Stacy was also an egg donor. That prompted her friend, who seemed to feel no embarrassment on the subject, to disclose that she’d accidentally become pregnant the same month the eggs were harvested.
“If you’re getting married, things must have worked out, or am I assuming too much?” Vanessa responded.
“Things have definitely worked out.” Stacy’s gaze fell on the Grecian dress. “I love that!”
Harper handed it over. “Try it on.”
“You bet.”
Since the dressing room was the size of an old-fashioned phone booth, Harper waited outside. “Don’t let me interrupt your shopping,” she told Vanessa.
“I’m killing time while my daughter’s sewing doll clothes.” The surrogate smoothed her palm over an embroidered runner on a table.
“So is mine.” Feeling awkward with this unfamiliar relationship, Harper searched for a way to continue the conversation. “I’d have stayed with her but I promised to help Stacy.”
“I’d have stayed, too, but now that she’s twelve, Sarella doesn’t want her mommy hanging around.” The other woman shrugged. “It’s lucky I can go on having babies. That satisfies my maternal instincts so I don’t cling.”
“Sarella,” Harper repeated. “What a pretty name.”
“She hates it.” Vanessa gave her an ironic smile. “She wishes we’d named her after the latest teen idol.”
“I’m glad Mia hasn’t reached that stage yet.”
Silence fell. Elsewhere in the store, a young couple raised and lowered the side bar on a crib, while two older women lifted teacups and examined the bottoms.
“I wonder if he’s planning ahead for when he has grandchildren.” Harper indicated a middle-aged man testing a rocking chair.
“I’m certainly not going to ask him,” Vanessa replied in a low voice.
“Maybe he just has trouble falling asleep.”
“I’m not going to ask him that, either.”
They chuckled. Harper was wondering if she should poke her head into the dressing room when Stacy emerged in the Grecian gown. Supported by a single strap on one side, it flattered her figure and her complexion.
“Well?” She examined herself in a cheval glass. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely the best yet,” Harper said.
“Gorgeous,” Vanessa agreed.
Grinning, Stacy ducked back into the dressing room.
“How romantic,” Vanessa said dreamily. “I love everything about weddings.”
“I may not love everything about them,” Harper admitted. “But Stacy deserves this, especially after her terrible first marriage.”
“I’m sure he was a complete jerk.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she said. “But yes.”
“How lovely to meet her, and chat with you.” The surrogate removed a veil from a hat tree, turning it in her hands to examine the lace. “We’re companions in arms, doing something marvelous together.”
“It seemed presumptuous of me to get in touch with you directly, though,” Harper said. “I mean, because I work in your doctor’s office.”
“Who cares?” Vanessa replaced the veil. “A surrogate’s medical details aren’t exactly a secret.”
That reminded Harper of something she’d been wondering. “By the way, do you expect to attend my procedure?” The retrieval was scheduled for Tuesday, with the transfer on Friday. “I don’t know what the, uh, etiquette is.”
“Etiquette?” Vanessa’s eyebrows rose.
“What’s customary,” Harper amended. “Since you’ve done this before, you’re the expert.”
Vanessa laughed. “I’m far from an expert.” The surrogate appeared more relaxed with this topic than Harper was. “As for etiquette, there isn’t any. We may not be the very first women to interact this way, but we are pioneers. That means we’re making up the rules as we go.”
That was an aspect of this process that Harper hadn’t considered. “You’re right. This is a new area.” There was no established way for the mother of the eggs to relate to the surrogate carrying her baby for a third party. Not many years ago, this would have been the stuff of science fiction.
“I’m keeping a scrapbook for the baby,” Vanessa went on. “Pictures of my pregnancy and so on. That way, he’ll have a complete record, like any other child.”
“That’s very thoughtful.” Knowing how much Mia enjoyed reviewing her baby book, Harper admired Vanessa’s kindness. “I don’t plan to have anyone take pictures of me injecting myself with hormones, though.” After finishing the birth control pills, she’d moved on to this new phase. So far, her reactions had consisted of soreness in her bottom from the needle and tenderness in her abdomen.
“Ouch!” The surrogate touched her wrist. “You’re a brave woman.”
“And you aren’t?”
“Pregnancy is as old as mankind,” Vanessa reminded her. “Donating eggs isn’t.”
“Funny that we call it donating, even though we get paid.” Harper knew she was rattling on, but she preferred not to dwell on the medical aspects of what she was doing. Just thinking about it made her wince.
“You’re being paid for your time and discomfort, which is a polite term for pain,” the other woman answered. “Not for the eggs themselves.”
Nevertheless, Harper wished she didn’t have to take money from Peter. But he’d assured her it had been set aside long ago and, with college tuitions soaring, Mia’s fund needed the boost.
The dressing room curtains parted and Stacy emerged with the dress folded over her arm. “You deserve every penny of that money.”
Had she heard the entire conversation? Harper wondered. “Were we talking too loud?”
“Not loud enough. I had to strain really hard.”
“You of all people understand what we mean.” Vanessa’s goodwill bathed the three of them in a shared sense of sisterhood. “I’m glad you found a dress.”
“By next month, we may have to decorate a wheelbarrow with satin and lace to trundle me down the aisle, but I’ll feel like a Greek goddess,” Stacy responded cheerfully.
“Like Aphrodite,” the surrogate suggested. “The goddess of procreation.”
“Was she?” Stacy yielded the dress to the saleslady. “I’m fuzzy on my mythology.”
“Aphrodite was also known as Venus.” Vanessa strolled with them to the register. “I’m named after her, according to my mother.”
“Appropriately,” Harper noted.
“Isn’t Venus the one who’s always painted naked?” Stacy ignored a startled glance from the saleslady.
“And with perfect boobs,” Vanessa said.
Stacy made a face. “Don’t remind me. Mine are starting to hurt.”
“Developing milk ducts,” the surrogate said.
“Too much information.” Harper preferred to focus on the dress, which the red-faced clerk was hurriedly wrapping. “Does it need alterations?”
“Maybe a few. Good thing my mom’s coming,” Stacy replied. “She’ll take care of that. No sense altering it till the last minute, anyway, since my body keeps changing.”
After she departed, Harper and Vanessa walked to the doll boutique. A couple of cyclists, wearing helmets and bending low over their racing bikes, passed them on the adjacent trail.
“You’re welcome to attend the transfer, if it’s all right with Peter,” Vanessa said.
Startled, Harper had to think about that. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll beg off. Unless it’s important to you.”
“I’m fine either way.” Although about the same height, they had different strides. The other woman sped up to match her pace. “The way Peter talks about you, I gathered that you’re friends.”
“My late husband used to work with him,” Harper said. “And he knows my daughter from sports camp.”
“Oh.” Vanessa didn’t probe further.
Harper wasn’t about to mention the book project. Vanessa’s romantic attitude reminded her of how easily people might make assumptions. After Peter left, Harper didn’t want others assuming she must be brokenhearted.
Anyway, they’d reached the boutique. And inside, Mia’s eager face filled her with joy.
Harper had her family. And soon, with luck, Peter would have his, too.
* * *
THE PHOTOS WERE STUNNING. A ladybug snacking on an aphid, a grasshopper struggling to free itself from a spiderweb—Harper had outdone herself.
“Incredible.” Although she’d offered to email him the pictures, Peter was glad she’d saved them until Sunday afternoon so they could review them together, along with shots by her daughter. “Harper, you’re incredibly talented, and I’m sure it took a lot of patience to capture these moments.”
“What about mine?” demanded the little girl who sat between them at the kitchen table.
“They make a wonderful complement, Mia. That means they go well with your mom’s pictures.” That gave Peter an idea. “I’d like to include some tips for children on taking their own photos. Mia, you can help me with ideas.”
“I like that.” Harper’s approval warmed him.
“Yes!” Mia wiggled happily. “Can I show you my book? I wrote one, too.”
“You bet.” Amused, he watched as she squirmed out of the chair and ducked beneath the table. She crawled across his legs and sprinted off.
“Mia!” Harper called. “That was rude. You can’t climb all over people.”
About to speak in the girl’s defense, Peter stopped himself. Although it was tempting to indulge the child, he shouldn’t interfere.
“Sorry.” Mia’s voice drifted back as she ran into the hall.
“I hope she didn’t stomp on you too hard,” Harper murmured.
“I got stomped a lot worse in my wrestling days.” With Mia out of earshot, he seized on the chance to talk privately. Rereading the information about the side effects of egg donation, Peter had found his concerns growing. “Are you feeling okay? I didn’t give enough thought to what I was asking of you, taking all those hormones.”
“You didn’t ask me. I volunteered.” From beneath long lashes, Harper regarded him coolly. “I’m a big girl, Peter. I’m fine.”
“You don’t like being fussed over,” he interpreted.
“Guess not.” She tapped the mouse.
“Still, the potential impacts aren’t minor.” Some egg donors experienced complications such as hyperstimulated ovaries, which could swell painfully.
“Dr. Sargent monitors me closely.”
Why was she defensive? Peter only wanted to protect her. “There can be bleeding from the procedure next week, too.”
“There are always risks with minor surgery.” Harper shook back her brown hair, which was growing into an appealingly thick tumble. “You aren’t expecting to be there, are you?”
He blinked at the change of gears. “Do you want me to?”
“No!”
“Then I won’t.” Just as well. He’d rather not witness the procedure unless she needed him, which she clearly didn’t. As fascinating as he found biology, Peter disliked anything to do with surgery, which was one reason he hadn’t considered going to medical school. “Did I mention that I spoke to the surrogate about you?”
“I know—I ran into her yesterday.” Harper’s tone softened. “I’m glad you told her.”
“How’d it go?”
“To say that we bonded might be exaggerating,” she mused. “But we’re on the same wavelength.”
“Where did you run into―” He broke off as Mia appeared with a printed-out booklet featuring photos of teddy bears. She’d written a brief story, as well, which she read aloud.
“That’s wonderful,” Peter told her. “You should be proud of writing your own book.”
“I am!” She jumped up. “Can I go play with my kitten?”
“Of course,” Harper said.
“I’m going to write a book about Po next,” the girl announced, and dashed off.
“She’s quite creative,” Peter said.
“I wish she had grandparents to share her work with.” Harper rested her cheek on her fist.
“She has your friends. They seem like a second family.” Peter was slightly envious of her intimacy with Stacy and Adrienne. Although he’d formed casual friendships at work and through volunteer activities, he’d never truly felt close to anyone other than his parents and Angela. And, to a degree, Harper.
“No one adores you like a grandparent. Well, not Sean’s mother. Oh, never mind that.” She indicated his tablet computer. “I’m eager to see what you’ve been working on.”
“I started with bees.” Peter opened a passage he’d written. “Shall I read it aloud? I’ve heard that’s a good way to see if it’s flowing well.”
“Sure.” Harper listened raptly, smiling and nodding in places he’d hoped would be amusing. Except for a dangling modifier and one pronoun with a questionable antecedent, she pronounced it perfect. “I’m fascinated by your research,” she said after he finished. “I didn’t realize bees were the only insects that produce food for people, or that they communicate by dancing.”
“Scientists disagree, however, as to whether it’s the tango or the cha-cha,” Peter deadpanned.
Laughing, Harper punched him lightly in the arm. “Silly.”
He’d like to try one of those dances with her, Peter thought. Preferably a waltz, slow and gentle, his body brushing her temptingly rounded contours, his mouth close to her parted lips.
Mia raced into the room, right behind her kitten. She was holding up her camera, trying to snap a picture. A timely interruption, Peter acknowledged. He’d been enjoying his fantasy a little too much.
“You’ll get a blur if you shoot while you’re moving,” Harper told her daughter.
Mia halted in her tracks. “Listen to Mommy, Po. Stop running!” The kitten halted, regarding her quizzically. “Gotcha!” She took the shot, then scooped up the kitten and carried him onto the patio.
“That cat has no idea he’s about to be immortalized in a book,” Peter said.
“I’m sure he’d be much more cooperative if he did.” Harper gazed fondly after the child. “If only I could freeze time. Vanessa’s daughter is twelve and she’s already acting like a teenager. I’d rather keep Mia this age as long as possible.”
It struck Peter that, in less than a week, his own child might begin life. Perhaps a girl like Mia.
“What’s running through your mind?” Harper asked.
He frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You have an expressive face.”
He’d always considered himself a guarded person. But then, his wife used to read him fairly well, too. “Next week—well, it’s hard not to get excited about it, although I don’t want to count too much on the first attempt.”
“Me, neither.” Harper’s fingers tapped the table. “I’ll be on pins and needles till we find out.”
“Good thing my sister’s wedding is next weekend.” Peter was flying East on Friday evening. “That ought to keep me from dwelling on this. Plus, while I’m there, I can get a sense of the area.”
Since it was a short trip, he’d decided not to contact Angela’s family, who lived a few hours’ drive away in Virginia. Once he moved to the area, there’d be plenty of time to reconnect.
Then he noticed the strain on Harper’s face. “I’m sure you’ll find a beautiful house.” The words crackled with tension.
His Baby Dream (Safe Harbor Medical) Page 10
