Jacqueline Diamond - His Baby Dream

Still, he’d see Harper around town, and he didn’t like keeping her in the dark. Moreover, as the years went by, she might learn he’d had the child with a surrogate, notice the resemblance and put the pieces together.

Peter took another look at the woman in the picture. Her skin glowed, and her delicate necklace resembled a daisy chain. The impression was natural and healthy, which matched the woman he’d seen today.

Troubled, he closed the site. He’d hoped to make a decision. Instead, he’d simply raised new complications.

Well, he’d only decided a little over a month ago—once he received his diagnosis from Dr. Rattigan—to proceed with becoming a father. Peter had quickly passed the screening process and background check required by the hospital’s surrogacy program. Now he faced one of the most important decisions of his life.

He’d have to think about it.

Chapter Two

Mia was jumping up and down, her tennis shoes springing off the living room carpet. “Hold still,” muttered Harper, taking aim with a brush and achieving only a passing swipe at the messy honey-colored strands.

“Good thing you cut her hair,” observed Stacy, who looked feminine and comfortable in a peach knit top and maternity jeans. Only halfway through the first trimester, her pregnancy was already beginning to show, since she was carrying triplets. “It’s adorable even when it’s rumpled.”

“I’m going to Disneyland!” the little girl crowed. Although she’d been to the amusement park in nearby Anaheim before, it never lost its appeal.

“And we appreciate your keeping us company.” Stacy’s fiancé, Dr. Cole Rattigan, grinned with anticipation. He had honest brown eyes and a sturdy build that he maintained by bicycling to and from the hospital almost every day.

“I’m sure the park will be full of kids.” Harper set the brush aside. “Saturdays in summer tend to be jammed.”

“That’s half the fun. Anyway, we want to experience this through her eyes,” Stacy said. “It’ll be years before our kids are old enough to go on rides. And with three of them, I doubt we’ll have a chance to relax and enjoy it.”

“My first trip definitely requires a kid.” Having moved to Safe Harbor from Minneapolis the previous year to head the men’s fertility program, Cole evidently hadn’t found time until now for the county’s best-known tourist attraction.

“Mia, stop jumping! This isn’t sports camp.” Harper restrained her daughter before she crashed into the dark-wood entertainment center.

“We’ll be honing our parenting skills,” the surgeon added. “This is as much a learning experience as a pleasure trip.”

While that might seem an odd attitude, Harper had grown accustomed to Cole’s refreshingly naive view of personal interactions. Brilliant in his medical practice, he’d only recently emerged from an emotional cocoon after falling in love with Stacy. Raised by a surgeon mother who’d purposely chosen an uninvolved father, he’d missed out on many of the usual childhood rituals, such as birthday parties and trips to theme parks. “I wish you’d at least let me pay for her ticket.”

“It’s her birthday present,” the doctor responded cheerfully. “Besides, we like spending time with Mia.” He and Stacy had babysat previously, allowing Harper to attend a seminar on digital photo editing.

“Her birthday isn’t for two weeks. But thank you.” Harper took a final peek inside Mia’s backpack. Additional sunscreen, tissues, a water bottle, school ID and the cell phone that doubled as a camera. Everything checked out.

As her friends escorted the bouncy girl to their car, Harper stood in the doorway of her ranch-style home. Around the front steps, geraniums, miniature roses and marigolds brightened the flower bed, and the scent of jasmine drifted from a neighbor’s yard.

As for Mia’s upcoming birthday, Harper hoped the Disneyland visit might compensate for what she feared would be a lackluster party. She couldn’t afford a costly celebration like some of her daughter’s school friends had thrown, with hired entertainers or a trip to see Cirque du Soleil. The rent on this house already strained her budget.

The car vanished down the street. Harper stood for a moment longer, letting herself adjust. As much as she relished a rare free day, it felt weird not to have her daughter with her.

She went inside for her camera. As a teen, in addition to shooting for the high school website, she’d taken pictures for the sheer pleasure of seeing the world afresh. Since then, she’d been too busy to do more than record key events. That was changing, however.

Harper packed snack items, applied sunscreen and set out extra food and water for Mia’s black-and-white kitten. Then she locked the house behind her with the buoyant sense of going on a holiday.

Rather than take her car and have to pay attention to driving, Harper strolled a few blocks to the bus stop on Safe Harbor Boulevard. En route, she paused to photograph a spray of yellow blossoms on a tree and a climbing rose blooming across an arched trellis. Typical of early summer weather in Southern California, the sky was overcast. That would burn off later, but for now a breeze cooled the air.

Slowly, she relaxed into an easy rhythm that contrasted with her usual hurry. A whole day to take pictures. How precious was that?

On the bus, a family clustered with a large picnic basket. A group of girls chattered and laughed, while a young couple sneaked kisses. After observing her fellow riders, Harper turned to gaze out the window, studying shapes and patterns of light and shadow.

They rolled past stores, offices and the occasional bicyclist on a trail that paralleled the boulevard. Off to the right Harper glimpsed the six-story medical center and the adjacent office building where she worked.

Even though she’d loved being a full-time mother, Harper treasured her life now. It was busy, yes, and demanding, but she and Mia had a lot of freedom. If she didn’t feel like cooking, they ate sandwiches and salads for dinner. On weekends, they took spur-of-the-moment trips.

Harper had never experienced this kind of independence before. Stunned by her father’s death in a car crash when she was sixteen, she’d clung to her boyfriend, Sean. She’d leaned on him through college and their four-year marriage, adapting her interests to his. Hiking and motorcycle riding—until her pregnancy—had replaced photography, and being a wife and mother had replaced nursing. She’d had no idea to what an extent her reliance on him had preempted her sense of self until after his death.

Although Harper would always treasure their years together, she didn’t care to repeat the experience with anyone else. Today, she felt liberated.

When the bus crested a rise, before them spread the U-shaped harbor from which the town took its name. Small boats and a scattering of yachts lined its edges, while sailboats and catamarans headed toward the jetties that protected it from the Pacific Ocean.

Along a harborside quay lay shops and a café. Farther down the shore, past the yacht club and some private waterside homes, Harper noted beach umbrellas and blankets staking out areas of sand. So far, however, only a handful of wet-suited surfers braved the chilly waves. It was always colder at the ocean, even compared to a few miles inland.

Zipping her jacket against the wind, Harper descended at the bus stop and made her way onto the beach. No one seemed to mind when she captured their images: an older couple holding hands as they strolled, a man tossing a beach ball with his little boy, a woman in a floppy hat pouring a steaming cup of liquid from a thermos. Thank goodness for memory cards that stored thousands of images.