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Still, he wouldn’t push. Wouldn’t make the first move toward the bedroom. He’d been serious when he’d vowed that the next time they made love it would be at Simone’s invitation, and she wouldn’t need even a drop of alcohol to influence her decision.
As his hormones pumped, as his blood pounded in need, he reined in his desire to the point he thought he might die. And when she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away, he thought he surely would.
“I’m sorry, Mike. But I can’t. I just can’t do this.”
Oh, she could. And she had. But he knew better than to argue.
She unclipped the barrette in her hair, then combed her fingers through the strands. “I’m not the kind of woman who wants or needs a man in my life.”
“You may not want one. But you definitely need one.” And Mike was the man she needed most.
His suspicion that she’d been hurt in the past only deepened now.
She strode back to the coffee table and picked at a clump of grapes he’d placed next to the slices of cheese. “In the three or so years you’ve known me, how many times have you seen me with a man—romantically speaking? How many times have I actually gone out on a date?”
“That’s not healthy,” he said.
“I’m not very good at relationships, so it’s easier this way.”
He couldn’t buy that. Still, it had been five or six weeks since the two of them had slept together. But he had no idea how long it had been for her prior to that.
Too long, he suspected. The last guy she’d been involved with must have done a real number on her self-esteem.
“Can’t you be content to let us just be friends?”
God only knew how long he could keep this up. His hope was that she’d give in to her true feelings before he grew tired of waiting.
Damn. He was only human.
“I’ll take whatever you can give me,” he said.
At least that was his plan for now.
The next morning, Simone woke to the sounds of dogs barking. She rolled over in bed, raised up on an elbow and peered through the curtains. In the backyard, Mike was playing ball with Wags and Woofer, who obviously hadn’t learned the rules of Fetch.
But she had to give Mike credit for trying to teach them how to bring the little rubber ball back to him and not keep it as a well-earned prize.
What was she going to do about that man?
If she believed in the power of true love, if she believed that she could become involved in any kind of lasting relationship, she would definitely consider making Mike a part of her life.
But she knew her own flaws, as well as her strengths.
When Cynthia Pryor, her mom’s neighbor, had called last night to inform Simone of something another mother would have disclosed on her own, she’d been completely taken aback. Not just by the terrible news, but by the blatant reminder that she and her mom had never been close, that they never would be.
And thanks to their dysfunctional relationship, Simone would never be able to create a warm, loving family of her own.
After the call, when Mike had held her, when he’d kissed her, she’d wanted so badly to accept all that he’d been willing to give her.
But how could she when she knew she’d always hold back? When she knew she’d always retreat to that special place in her mind where no one could ever hurt her again?
As she climbed from bed, another bout of morning sickness struck with a vengeance, and she hurried to the bathroom. When it was all over—God, she hated being sick—she washed her face, returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of mattress. Then she dialed her mother’s house.
After the third ring, a click sounded. Simone opened her mouth to respond, but when the canned voice of her mom’s answering machine began its recitation, she blew out a ragged sigh instead.
“You have reached 518–555–2467. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call at my earliest convenience.”
Simone cleared her throat. “Hi, Mom. It’s me. I just wanted to touch base and see how you’ve been. Please give me a call when you can. It’s—” she glanced at the clock on the bureau “—it’s ten-fifteen on Thursday. I have to go into work this afternoon around three, but I should be close to home until then. I love you.”
As she hung up the phone, she realized that she always ended her calls that way. I love you.
But did she?
Did that little girl inside of her still exist? The one who’d desperately wanted to hear those three little words repeated and know, without a doubt, that her mother truly meant them?
No. That lonely child had faded into the past when Simone hit high school, where she learned that she could get the affirmation, respect and attention she craved from her teachers. So, as a result, she studied hard and excelled—especially in science.
At one time, she’d actually thought about going to medical school, but the cost was prohibitive, especially without any family support. So she’d settled for nursing school, where she graduated at the top of her class.
Fifteen years ago, she landed a job at Walnut River General and worked on any floor she was assigned. But she soon found her real calling in the emergency room, where she gained the respect of patients, coworkers and administrators alike.
One nice thing about the E.R. was that Simone could become personally involved with the patients for a few hours, then was able to back off as they either went home or were sent to other floors in the hospital.
Yes, she’d overcome a lot in the past thirty-seven years, but she still found it difficult to actually connect with people.
When the rubber ball Mike and the dogs had been playing with hit the side of the house, the wooden window frame and the glass shook and shuddered.
Simone peered out into the yard to see what was going on outside.
Through the pane of glass separating them, Mike caught her gaze, smiled and shrugged at the same time. Then he mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
She was sorry, too. Sorry that she couldn’t pin her heart and her dreams on Mike O’Rourke. That she couldn’t create something she’d never had.
Once upon a time, she’d hoped and prayed to have what other children had been blessed with, but that dream had faded along with that little brown-haired girl who used to cry herself to sleep each night.
The child whose mother had looked at her newborn for the very first time and determined that she was unlovable.
Mike had found his true calling when he’d pursued EMT training at the local junior college.
In fact, he loved everything about his job—the adrenaline rush, the satisfaction of saving a life.
Sure, there were times when it was tough, times when he came upon an accident victim too late to be of any help.
He didn’t like having to look into the eyes of a victim’s family and tell them there was nothing left to do but to call the coroner. But he accepted that as part of life, as part of his job.
Tonight, just after eight o’clock, he and Leif were sitting around the television at the station with several other guys when the next call came in, and the men all sprung into action.
Four and a half minutes later, they arrived at the scene of a car accident that had occurred when a seventy-six-year-old woman ran a stop sign at the intersection of Lexington and Pine, broadsiding a vehicle driven by a sixteen-year-old boy.
The teenager in a white Honda Accord had suffered a possible skull fracture, lacerations to the face and a broken collarbone.
The elderly woman had been hurt, too. But Mike suspected she might have had a seizure or ministroke while behind the wheel, which had probably caused the accident. They wouldn’t know for sure until she was examined at the hospital.
Eight minutes after the arrival of the paramedics on the scene, both victims were loaded in the ambulance and en route to Walnut River General.
As Leif and Mike monitored the vitals of the victims, the flashing red lights and siren alerted the other cars on the road to pull over and let the emergency vehicle pass.
Simone was working tonight, and Mike hoped that after the patients were stabilized he’d have a chance to see her, to talk to her.
After passing both the teenager and the woman to the E.R. staff, Mike and Leif stopped by the nurses’ desk to complete the necessary paperwork.
“Hey,” Leif said, nodding toward an open doorway, where Simone stood at the bedside of a young girl who had a gash in her leg. “If you’re both working, who’s looking after the dogs?”
“We decided to leave them alone tonight and hope for the best.” Mike glanced up from the form he’d signed. “I sure hope they don’t disturb her neighbors. They get a little loud and rambunctious sometimes.”
The radio squawked, and Leif responded, alerting dispatch that the medics were available again. When he’d done so, he excused himself. “I’m going to get a soda. Want me to get you one?”
“No, I’m fine.”
As Leif walked away, Mike took the time to study Simone, to watch her interact with a frightened little girl he guessed to be about six or seven years old.
Simone took a disposable glove from a box, blew into the opening to create a balloon, then knotted the end. The fingers stood straight up, resembling either a rooster’s comb or a kid’s Mohawk. Then she took a black pen and drew a pair of eyes above the thumb and a mouth below it.
The result brought forth a smile on the child’s face, providing some relief from her pain and fear.
Why couldn’t Simone see in herself what he saw in her—the compassion, the dedication, the heart of a woman who truly cared?
A woman who would make a great wife and mother.
In the past, Mike had sowed his share of wild oats. But as family holidays came and went, each one growing bigger with another new in-law or the birth of a baby, he’d begun to feel a growing urge to find a mate, settle down and create a home and family of his own.
Simone was a challenge, though.
As she returned to the desk where Mike continued to stand, she tossed a pretty smile his way. “Wags and Woofer must be doing okay. Otherwise, I suspect Mrs. McAllister, the woman who lives next door to me, would have called to complain by now.”
“I knew they’d eventually learn how to get along.” He’d taken that same stance with Simone, hoping that she’d get used to having him around, that she’d let down her guard and quit fighting her feelings for him.
“Did you ever get ahold of your mother?” he asked. “How’s she doing?”
Simone’s movements slowed to a snail’s pace. “I’m afraid I really don’t know. We’ve been playing phone tag.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Simone gave a half shrug. “Actually, that’s par for the course.”
“Because you’re both so busy?” Mike had a brother who worked odd hours and was hard to find at home.
“My mom and I never seem to connect.” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip.
“Maybe you ought to try and talk to her again this evening,” he suggested, “when you get a break.”
“We’ll see.”
“I guess you’ll want to call her when you can have some privacy.”
Simone scanned the E.R.
Looking to see who was listening? he wondered.
She uncrossed her arms and straightened, distancing herself from the conversation. “I’m probably the last one on earth she really wants to hear from. So I’m going to let her call me if and when she’s ready.”
Mike watched as Simone returned to her young patient, the rubber soles of her shoes squeaking upon the tile. He’d suspected that the person who’d hurt her had been a man. That the wrongs she’d suffered and her subsequent pain might be something he could heal and rectify.
But maybe he’d been wrong.
Chapter Six
Three days later, Mike was still coming by the house to watch the dogs whenever he could, and Simone continued to drop off Wags at the Baxters’ store when she didn’t want to leave the dogs alone.
“I feel like a real parent,” he’d told her earlier as he prepared to leave for his next shift at the station.
She’d imagined him as a father, too—to real children; not the kind with four paws and fur.
“This isn’t the same,” she’d responded, wanting to change the subject to one that wasn’t so…so steeped in truth.
Something warm and tender had simmered in his gaze, something that threatened to not only pull her in, but to drag her through a rush of emotion.
“I can’t help wondering what our kids would look like,” he’d said, “if you and I were to have them.”
The statement had nearly knocked her to the floor, and she’d struggled to recover.
Ever since learning that she was pregnant, she’d been thinking a lot about the baby they’d created and had tried to imagine whether it was a girl or a boy. But she couldn’t allow herself to focus on the child being theirs—or even his. Instead, she’d forced herself to think about the joy the baby would bring to its new parents, a couple who’d been hoping and praying for a child to love.
A couple like Fred and Millie.
“You’ll make a fabulous father,” she’d told him. “But I’m not the maternal type. Trust me on that, okay?”
He’d cupped her face with both hands. “And I say that you are.”
For a long, heart-stopping moment, she’d wanted to believe him—for his sake.
And for the child’s.
But she knew things Mike didn’t. Things that would make him change his mind.
“You’re going to be late,” she’d told him, trying to shoo him out the door before she was forced to tell him the truth sooner than she was ready to do so.
Now she’d just parked in front of Tails a Waggin’.
“Here we are,” she told Wags as she reached for the handle of his carrier and took him inside the pet shop.
Simone had called the store earlier, and Millie had agreed to take Wags home for the night. Although Simone was feeling better about leaving the dogs alone, she didn’t like the idea of Wags being unsupervised inside the house. Not when he chewed everything in sight and still wasn’t housebroken.
She could, of course, leave the dogs outside, but there was a biting chill in the air, and dark clouds had gathered on the horizon. Because of the threatening weather, they couldn’t stay in the yard tonight. But if Wags stayed with Millie, Woofer could be left in the house alone.
“Look who’s here,” Millie said to Popeye Baxter, who wore a yellow bandanna around his neck and sat next to the register. “Your little friend is back.”
Simone watched as Popeye perked up in response to the news, and a smile crept across her face. Woofer was still getting used to having Wags around, so it was nice to think that Popeye found him entertaining.
“I sure appreciate you taking Wags for me,” Simone said. “And hopefully, I won’t need to impose on you too many more times. Mike is hoping to find a place, and his real estate agent called about a house that sounds promising. She’s going to show it 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 tried to tell Mike that he was barking up the wrong tree when it came to a long-term commitment. But he seemed to think that, with time, everything would work out between them.
Simone knew better, though. And she suspected that, as a social worker, her friend would agree with her.
“Is there any chance that you and the father might want to raise this child together?” Isobel asked.
“No. In spite of an age difference, our family backgrounds are completely opposite. So nothing lasting could ever come of a relationship with him.”
Besides, Mike wanted so much more than Simone could give him.
“Sometimes opposites not only attract, but bring out the best in each other,” Isobel said.
Simone reached across the table and placed her hand over her friend’s. “I’ve told you about some of the pain I went through as a child, but I held back on the worst of it.”
“You’re a strong, dependable and resilient woman, Simone. It seems to me that you’ve overcome the emotional obstacles you faced.”
Some of them, she supposed. “But I never learned the emotional skills needed to parent. Not by example, anyway. And for that reason, I’m afraid I’ll fail the baby just as badly as my mother failed me.”
Isobel’s gaze snagged Simone’s, soothing her in a pool of compassion and understanding.
Over the years, Simone may have shared certain details about past events with Isobel, but she’d never revealed the depth of her feelings, her fears.
“Adoption is best for everyone involved.” The words came out sure, steady. Yet for a moment, something waffled inside. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.