Wilder Hearts. Karen Rose Smith
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reason why Simone couldn’t imagine keeping her baby. The only person she had to rely on was herself. But that was her reality, and she’d learned to accept it.
She wished she could say that her revelation to Mike about the details surrounding her conception and her childhood had been therapeutic. In a way, she supposed it had been. At least it was out in the open now.
When the nurse, a fifty-something blonde with a warm smile, called Simone’s name from the doorway, she stood, leaving the magazine on the table next to her, and let the matronly woman lead her toward the exam rooms.
They stopped by the scale, then went through the usual routine of taking her blood pressure and checking her pulse. After being given a plastic cup and pointed in the direction of the restroom, she provided them with a urine sample.
It was an interesting twist to be a patient rather than a medical professional for a change. And she wasn’t sure that she liked it.
Next, she undressed and donned the backless hospital-style gown that everyone hated, then climbed up on the exam table. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long for Dr. Kipper to come in, accompanied by the nurse.
“I’ve gone over the lab work,” the tall, slender obstetrician said. “Everything looks good.”
The following pelvic exam was also normal.
“Since you’re over thirty-five,” Dr. Kipper said as he reached for her hand and helped her to a sitting position on the table, “I’m going to suggest an amniocentesis at sixteen weeks.”
He went on to explain the procedure and the risks, then answered all her questions.
She mentioned being light-headed a time or two and actually fainting once, although she hadn’t eaten since the night before. He told her that it wasn’t uncommon and suggested that she keep her blood sugar level steady by having more frequent and smaller meals. He also told her that a sudden change in blood pressure could also be the cause. And that she should change positions slowly.
“Let me know if the fainting or dizziness becomes frequent,” he said.
“All right. I will.”
He wrote something in her chart, then glanced up. “Are you taking any vitamins?”
“Just the generic variety I normally take.”
He dug through the cupboard and found a couple of packets. “I’ve got a sample of the prenatal vitamins I’d like you to start taking instead. I’ve got them in either pink or blue. Do you have a preference?”
“No, it doesn’t matter.” Yet thoughts of pink had her thinking about sugar and spice and everything nice, while blue brought on a reminder of frogs, snails and puppy-dog tails.
Would Mike have a preference?
No, she snapped at herself. Don’t even go there.
“I’d like to see you back in three weeks,” Dr. Kipper said.
She nodded, feeling a bit robotic.
When the doctor and his nurse left her alone in the room, she removed the drafty gown and got dressed. Next, she stopped at the checkout window, where she made a payment.
On the way out of the office, she spotted Millie seated in the waiting room, near a potted palm.
Millie looked up from the magazine she was reading, her gaze landing on Simone. “Hey! Fancy meeting you here.”
Simone had thought the exact thing. And for a moment, she hoped that Millie was here for the same reason, that God had listened to her prayers, and she’d somehow become pregnant.
“How about that,” Simone said.
Millie set the magazine in her lap. “I’m here for my yearly Pap smear. How about you?”
Simone didn’t have the heart to tell her she was pregnant. And for more reasons than one.
If she miscarried, which was a possibility, especially in the first three months, and Millie was expecting to adopt the baby, it would be an unnecessary disappointment and heartbreak for her friend.
And secondly, she wasn’t ready to let the cat out of the bag.
Or is it more than that? a small inner voice asked. Are you trying to hold on to the baby, as well as the news?
Simone quickly shook off the stray thought.
“Pap smears aren’t something I look forward to, but they’re very important,” she told her friend, tottering on the truth and a lie of omission.
“I know.” Millie scanned the room and zeroed in on a petite brunette who looked to be about nine months pregnant and ready to pop. When her gaze returned to Simone, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Simone’s heart went out to the woman who would make a wonderful mother. Again she thought about giving her baby to Millie and Fred. If she were to do that, the child would undoubtedly grow up happy and loved.
Yet a sudden sense of uneasiness settled over her when she thought about handing over her child, a selfish response that left her with a nagging sense of guilt.
Simone didn’t have any business even thinking about keeping the baby.
So what had caused the momentary change of heart?
Chapter Nine
Last week, Mike had invited Simone out to dinner to Rafael’s, a classy restaurant in downtown Walnut River, complete with candles, white linen tablecloths and the best chef and service for miles around.
For a woman who’d never had a romantic bone in her body, she was sorely tempted to don that only-worn-once black dress she owned—or maybe buy a new one—and let him sweep her off to a dreamy dinner for two. She could almost imagine herself sitting across a candlelit table from the most handsome man in all of Walnut River, a young, dark-haired hunk who clearly had eyes for her.
Little by little, Mike had been whittling away at her resolve to remain single and unattached, which had protected her well over the years. And at times, she found herself leaning toward sentiment rather than wisdom.
So, she’d declined—with more reluctance than she cared to admit.
Then, on Tuesday, he’d suggested they each take some vacation time and go to Martha’s Vineyard for a few days. He’d said he wanted to take her to the Cape before the tourist season kicked in.
She’d found the idea strangely appealing and the thought of the possible sleeping arrangements…intriguing.
But again she’d refused.
She didn’t think it would be wise to leave the hospital when it looked as though the allegations of insurance fraud were being investigated. Nor did she know how long she could fight her attraction to a man whose perseverance was both frustrating and flattering.
And now, Mike stood on her front porch with a bouquet of roses in one hand and two white bags in the other. Apparently, he was at it again—trying to make more of their relationship than it really was.
Still, as much as she hated to admit it, she’d begun to enjoy Mike’s company, so she invited him in.
The first thing he did, after handing her the flowers, was to kick off his shoes by the door. “If you’ll put those roses in some water, I’ll get everything set up.”
“What do you mean?”
He tossed her a boyish grin that knocked her heart on end. “I’m setting the mood. Our food will taste better this way. We’re going to sit on the floor and use chopsticks instead of forks.”
She watched as he placed the bags that boasted the red pagoda logo of the Tokyo Palace on the coffee table. Then he removed two cushions from the couch and set them on the floor.
Too