to him on his next day off.”
“Fred and I don’t mind watching Wags.” Millie took the dog carrier from Simone and set it on the counter. Then she unhooked the latch, swung open the little door and reached inside. “Are the dogs getting along any better yet?”
“With each other? Yes. But when I got in last night, there was a note left on my door by the woman who lives next door. Apparently, they were barking and making an awful racket while I was gone.”
“That’s too bad,” Millie said. “You don’t want to upset your neighbors.”
Simone didn’t like to be kept awake by someone else’s noise, either. She also tried to be considerate of the people who lived near her.
“Life is so much nicer when everyone in the neighborhood is on friendly terms,” Millie added, giving Wags a cuddle before setting him down on the floor so he could play.
It’s not that Simone really cared about maintaining any kind of relationship with those who lived near her. She waved to a couple of people when she saw them in their yards or on the street, but for the most part, she kept to herself.
When at home, she preferred her privacy and wasn’t interested in community gossip. Neither did she want just anyone to pop in unexpectedly for a leisurely cup of coffee and a chat.
Fortunately, her neighbors seemed to have read into her let’s-not-get-too-chummy expressions and gave her plenty of space.
She couldn’t say the same for Mike, though. He hadn’t seemed to read anything into her words or her demeanor. She supposed it was flattering that he’d stuck it out so far, but he had more faith in her than she had in herself.
If she were to let his charm go to her head and allow something to develop between them, she would be crushed when it ended, just as she had been when Tom Nichols said he couldn’t deal with a cold and unfeeling lover.
And if Mike made the same claim, it would be devastating since she cared more for Mike than she had for Tom.
A lot more.
Mike was a better man all the way around. And he was proving to be a good friend, too.
So why exchange their friendship for a temporary affair? It didn’t make sense, especially when she had very few friends in her life.
“I’m really going to miss Wags when you quit bringing him by,” Millie said. “He’s such a sweetheart.”
“He has his naughty moments, too. You ought to see the shoe he destroyed, the puddles he made on the hardwood floor and the fringe on the throw rug he chewed.”
“Aw, you can’t get mad at Wags for that,” Millie said. “He’s still a baby.”
“I know. I try to keep that in mind.” Simone tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “By the way, speaking of babies, how’s the adoption search coming along? Are you having any luck?”
“I’m afraid not.” Millie scanned the store, as though searching for someone who might be eavesdropping.
Fred maybe?
Another customer?
“We were turned down again. And a couple of weeks ago, after another…” She blew out a sigh. “Well, let’s call it another monthly disappointment. Anyway, Fred, bless his heart, took me for a long drive. We ended up at Crescent Lake, where we found a nice little spot and had a picnic—just the two of us. Then we prayed together, telling God how badly we wanted a child, but agreeing to abide by his will. If he wants us to have a baby, he’ll provide one for us. And if not?” Millie smiled warmly. “Fred and I have complete peace about whatever happens.”
Que sera, sera, Simone thought. What will be, will be.
“It won’t be the end of the world if we don’t have children,” Millie said. “After all, there aren’t too many couples who have what Fred and I’ve been blessed with. We have a loving, marital bond. We’re business partners, too, and the very best of friends. A child would merely be frosting on a cake that is moist and rich in and of itself.”
Simone wasn’t a religious person. After all, she’d prayed countless times that her mother would love her when she’d been a little girl. And it just hadn’t happened.
Who knew why some kids were conceived in love and others weren’t. Why some were born into loving arms and others into a cold environment.
Or why some women could accept the love offered them when others were afraid to.
Either way, a relationship like the one Fred and Millie shared was rare in this day and age. The Baxters were fortunate.
And if they had a baby, it would be lucky, too.
Yet Simone admired their resolve to give up their dream of having a child of their own and to trust that things would work out—one way or another.
Still, she couldn’t help thinking that her baby might be destined to be the frosting on the Baxter’s cake.
Late that afternoon, while raindrops danced upon the hospital windows, Simone sat across from Isobel Suarez in the hospital cafeteria, where they’d each set down a tray carrying a cup of soup and a half sandwich.
Isobel, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, with curly auburn hair and a ready smile, always had a kind word or a bit of wisdom to share. But then again, that shouldn’t be a surprise. Isobel was also the hospital social worker, a job she’d had for the past ten years.
From the first day they’d met, Simone had found Isobel different from the others and easy to talk to. So gradually, she’d begun to open up to someone for the first time in her life.
Simone had eventually admitted why she and her mother had never been close, a shameful secret Simone had stumbled upon by accident but had never discussed with anyone else.
At first, Simone had feared that Isobel might try to psychoanalyze her, but that hadn’t been the case. Isobel knew how to be a true friend without letting her training and her degree get in the way.
“Can I share something with you?” Simone asked.
“Sure.”
“In confidence,” Simone added.
“Of course.” Isobel laid down her spoon and pushed her cup of soup aside. “This sounds serious.”
“It is.” For a moment, Simone sat on her secret, clung to it, but she felt safe with Isobel. Still, the words came out softly, tentatively. “I’m…pregnant.”
Isobel picked up her napkin and blotted her lips. “How do you feel about that?”
“Flabbergasted. Overwhelmed. Foolish. Afraid. Awestruck.” Simone shrugged. “I think that about covers it.”
Isobel placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly. “What are you going to do?”
“Give the baby up for adoption.”
“And the father will be okay with that?”
Simone’s thoughts drifted to Mike, to the young paramedic who seemed to think she’d make a good wife and mother. The guy who had a slew of nieces and nephews and would love to have a kid of his own someday.
“I haven’t told him about it yet,” she admitted, “but when I do, I hope he’ll eventually be able to see the wisdom in my decision.”
Actually, she was afraid Mike would react positively to the news. And that he’d try to talk her into marrying him and keeping the baby.
But what would he say when she was forced to level with him about the past, about her shortcomings?
The emotional scars that she carried would cause him to resent her someday.
Hadn’t Simone come to resent her mother for the same reason?
She’d