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THE PREGNANCY
PLAN
BRENDA HARLEN
AND
HOPE’S CHILD
HELEN R MYERS
Dear Reader,
Every woman remembers her first love—and her first heartbreak. Cameron Turcotte was both for Ashley Roarke, and when he left town, she was sure she’d never love anyone as much as she’d loved him.
Of course, a lot can change in twelve years, and when Cam comes back after that time, Ashley has no intention of picking up where they left off.
But Cam knows the one thing that hasn’t changed is the chemistry between Ashley and him—if only he can convince her that first love sometimes deserves a second chance.
I hope you enjoy their story.
All the best,
Brenda Harlen
THE PREGNANCY PLAN
BRENDA HARLEN
About the Author
BRENDA HARLEN grew up in a small town surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as a lawyer (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mom and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart winner.
Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (“too many books,” according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with “real” people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo. com.
To Shelly & Brett—
High school sweethearts who, twenty-three
years later, are still going strong.
Thanks for the example and the inspiration.
Chapter One
“I’ m going to have a baby.”
Ashley Roarke’s statement, made to her sister and her cousin over Sunday brunch, was met by silence.
She glanced from Megan to Paige and back again, but she couldn’t tell what either of them was thinking.
Paige Wilder, a family law attorney who was accustomed to responding quickly to unexpected revelations in court, recovered first. “You’re pregnant?”
“Not yet.”
Megan Richmond, a research scientist, took a moment to absorb the news and consider before she said, “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
Ashley swirled a piece of French toast in the maple syrup on her plate, focusing all of her attention on the task. “I’m not.”
“Then you’re going to have to explain this to me,” her sister—recently and very happily married—said.
Ashley nibbled on the sweet bread while she considered her response.
Megan and Paige weren’t just family, they were her best friends, and she’d always been able to count on their unequivocal support in whatever she chose to do. Though she wasn’t sure they would support her in this, she also wouldn’t be dissuaded.
“I made an appointment at PARC,” she finally said, using the acronym for the Pinehurst Assisted Reproduction Clinic.
Megan set her cup down and turned to Paige. “This is all your fault.”
“What did I do?”
“You were the one who insisted she didn’t need a husband to have a baby.”
“Well, she doesn’t. And she certainly doesn’t need a husband like CBB,” her cousin said, invoking the nickname she’d bestowed upon Ashley’s ex-fiancé.
His real name was Trevor, but after the breakup of their engagement, he’d been referred to as Cheating Bastard Byden, and the initials had stuck.
It was Paige who’d discovered that Trevor was cheating. She’d seen him cozied up in a booth at a restaurant with a colleague, and while she didn’t want to believe he would be unfaithful to his fiancée, the evidence had been irrefutable. Ashley knew that Paige hated telling her, but she would have hated even more for the deception to continue.
Of course, Ashley had refused to believe her. She’d even—she was embarrassed to admit now—accused Paige of being jealous of her happiness. In fact, she’d been so positive that her cousin was wrong, she’d gone straight to Trevor.
She’d expected him to reassure her of his love and fidelity. And while he did insist that he loved her, and that he’d never felt about anyone else the way he felt about her, he’d also admitted that he’d been with other women.
Not another woman—singular, but other women—plural.
And Ashley had felt as if the ground had crumbled beneath her feet.
He’d tried to explain that he’d been feeling a little uncertain since their engagement, and that every woman he’d been with since had reassured him that he was marrying the only woman he would ever love, and he promised her that he would never even look at another woman after they were married.
Ashley was not reassured. As far as she was concerned, he’d made a vow when he’d asked her to marry him, and if he couldn’t honor that vow before the wedding, she knew nothing would change afterward.
She didn’t regret ending their relationship, but she’d been looking forward to her wedding day since she was a little girl. As she’d grown older, her dreams had taken on a more specific focus. It wasn’t just that she wanted a wedding, she wanted to be married. She wanted to fall in love and build a future—and a family—with a man who loved her, too.
She’d thought Trevor was that man. And when she’d handed back his ring, she’d relinquished some of her dreams, too.
That had been almost four months ago. Since then, she’d given the matter a lot of thought. The more she thought about it, the more she resented having to put her life on hold because she’d been wrong about Trevor.
And she’d decided she wasn’t going to put her life on hold any longer.
“You can’t blame Paige for this,” Ashley told her sister now. “I would have thought about artificial insemination on my own if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with planning my wedding.”
Paige wrinkled her nose. “Anything ‘artificial’ can’t be very much fun.”
“I’m not doing it for fun. I’m doing it to have a baby.”
“Just because CBB turned out to be a first-class CB doesn’t mean you should give up hope of finding a wonderful man to father your children,” Megan said.
“I haven’t given up,” Ashley denied, though she wasn’t entirely sure it was true. Two broken hearts in one lifetime were too many for her. “But I’m tired of waiting.”
“You’re not even thirty yet,” Paige reminded her.
“But I’m no closer to having a husband and a baby than I was at twenty,” she pointed out to both of them. “I was devastated when I found out that Trevor was cheating on me. But I’m not sure if I was really heartbroken by his betrayal or because he derailed my hopes of having a child. And I began to wonder if one of the reasons I accepted Trevor’s proposal in the first place was that he seemed to want marriage and a family as much as I do.”
“That doesn’t excuse what he did,” Paige said fiercely.
“No, it doesn’t,” Ashley agreed. “But it made me realize that I want a baby more than I want a husband.”
“But your engagement only ended four months ago,” Megan said gently. “You have to give your heart time to heal.”
“How much time?” Ashley wanted to know. “How long am I supposed to wait until you’ll trust that I’ve considered all the angles, that this is what I really want to do?”
“More than four months,” her sister told her.
“We know how much you want a child of your own,” Paige chimed in. “And how much love you have to give. But I think we’re both concerned that this is an impulse, an emotional response to the breakup of your engagement.”
“I’m going to have a baby, and nothing either of you say is going to change my mind now,” Ashley assured her.
“I don’t want to change your mind,” Paige said. “I just want you to rethink your options.”
“The Pinehurst clinic has a reputation for excellence and a record of success.”
“I know it does,” her cousin admitted. “But did you know that Cameron Turcotte is back in town?”
Her cousin’s question seemed to come from out of the blue, but Ashley knew the remark wasn’t unintentional. Because even after twelve years, just the mention of his name was enough to make her heart skip a beat, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let Paige know it.
“Who?” she said instead.
“I know you saw him at the reunion,” Paige said, referring to the high school reunion they’d all attended a few months earlier. Although Cam had been two years ahead of Ashley in school, the party had been open to all former graduates in celebration of Hill Park High School’s one hundredth year anniversary.
She shrugged. “So we talked.”
“And maybe your … talk … had something to do with his decision to come back to Pinehurst.”
Megan frowned, and Ashley knew her sister had concerns about Cameron’s return—specifically how it would affect Ashley.
“Is it true, then, that he’s going to be working with Elijah Alexander?” Megan asked.
Paige nodded.
“So Cam’s back,” Ashley said. “So what? What does that have to do with anything?”
“It just seems to me that someone who spent so many years in medical school would have a pretty good idea about how to make a baby,” Paige teased.
Ashley didn’t doubt that it was true, but she had no intention of letting her mind wander down that dead-end path.
Cameron Turcotte had been her first love, her first lover, and even way back when they were both in high school, he’d been a creative and considerate partner. He’d also broken her heart, and she wasn’t going to forget that for a few horizontal thrills. Not even if he’d given her any indication that he was interested in a reunion of that kind, which he hadn’t.
“You seem to be forgetting that one of the reasons Cam and I split up was that I wanted to have kids and he didn’t.”
“He didn’t want a baby twelve years ago,” Paige pointed out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s changed his mind since then.”
“Well, I’ve changed mine, too,” Ashley said. “I’m no longer looking for a marriage proposal or even a relationship. All I want is a sperm donor.”
“You’re really not interested?” Megan asked skeptically.
“I’m really not interested.”
But while Ashley’s voice rang with conviction, her heart wasn’t quite so certain.
When Cameron Turcotte first contacted the real estate company, it was to inquire about available rental properties in the area. Since he wasn’t convinced that the move back to Pinehurst would be a permanent one, it seemed logical to rent rather than buy. But he didn’t want an apartment; he wanted a house, a place to go at the end of the day that was his alone without neighbors above and below him. Unfortunately, house rentals were apparently rare in the area and Tina Stilwell hadn’t sounded optimistic about his prospects.
But she’d called earlier in the day to let him know that the owners of a house she had listed might be willing to consider a one-year lease in the hopes that the housing market would pick up within that time and ultimately result in a higher sale price for the home.
Since Cam had committed to a one-year contract with Elijah Alexander—a trial period for both of them, with the possibility of buying into the practice at the end of that term if it was what they wanted—he figured a housing lease for the same amount of time would be ideal. So it was that after a ten-hour day, he wasn’t heading back to his parents’ retirement community bungalow, where he’d temporarily taken up residence, but following a much too perky real estate agent through the front door of a gorgeous stone and brick two-story.
“It’s a wonderful neighborhood, close to the local schools and parks, convenient to shopping, entertainment, and pretty much anything else you’d want,” she told him.
And only a short drive from Dr. Alexander’s offices, he’d noted.
“I can walk through with you, if you want,” Tina said, as she led him from the living room through the dining room to the kitchen at the back of the house, from plush carpet to glossy hardwood to cool travertine. “But I find a lot of clients prefer to look around on their own.”
“I’ll wander, and let you know if I have any questions,” he said, accepting the spec sheet she’d taken from the upright display on the long granite counter in the kitchen.
The agent nodded, pulling out her BlackBerry as she settled at one of the high-backed stools lined up by the breakfast bar.
He exited the kitchen through another doorway, passing a family room and den as he made his way toward the stairs. On the upper level he found four bedrooms, all of them generously sized with lots of windows to ensure plenty of natural light.
The master bedroom at the back of the house was enormous—or maybe it just seemed so because it was devoid of furniture, as were all the other rooms in the house—with a huge walk-in closet and a four-piece ensuite bath of gleaming marble and glistening chrome. Returning to the main part of the room, he wandered over to the pair of wide windows overlooking a professionally landscaped backyard complete with a stone patio, pond, and decorative beds filled with colorful blooms and greenery.
Best of all, there was still a lot of open space, enough room for a child to run around. Several children even, he thought, and sighed with regret that his marriage hadn’t worked out quite the way he’d planned.
When he’d proposed to Danica Carrington, he’d known that she was focused on her career to the exclusion of all else; she’d made no secret of the fact that children weren’t part of her plan. He’d married her anyway, certain that she would change her mind when she held their baby in her arms. But it hadn’t happened that way at all, and after three years of desperately trying to make their marriage work, he’d finally given up and she’d eagerly walked away.
He pushed aside the disappointments and continued his tour. There was no reason to think of Danica now, to continue to mourn what had never been anything more than an illusion. He was determined to put the past behind him and make a fresh start in Pinehurst, to make a new life with Madeline.
And one of the most attractive features of this home, from his point of view, was its move-in condition. The walls were freshly painted in neutral colors, the carpets were pristine, the hardwood unmarked and the cherry kitchen was a chef’s paradise.
Not that he was a chef, by any stretch of the imagination, but he enjoyed experimenting in the kitchen. And he knew he would enjoy experimenting in that kitchen, with its top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances, luxurious island and two sets of French doors opening onto a cedar deck.
Tina tucked her BlackBerry away when he paused at those doors to survey the backyard more closely.
“Any thoughts?” she asked him.
I want it, was the first thought that came to mind.
“It’s probably a lot more space than I need,” he said instead.
“It is spacious,” she agreed, choosing to put a positive spin on his negative comment. “More suited to a family than a single man, but definitely a good investment.”
“It’s certainly been immaculately maintained.”
“It’s a three-year-old custom-design by Armstrong & Sullivan, built by Carson Construction,” she said. “The owners are both young professionals who, from what I understand, spent more time at their jobs than at home.”
He knew what that kind of life was like—and the toll it could take on a marriage. But all he said was, “Either they’ve taken minimalist decorating to a new level or they’ve already moved out.”
“Moved out,” she admitted, with a smile. “The wife got transferred to New York City, the husband took a job offer in Los Angeles, and they left me in charge of the house.”
And Cam would bet the proceeds were to be split down the middle, along with all their other shared possessions, with a significant chunk from each side going to their respective bloodsucking lawyers.
Yeah, he’d been there, done that, too.
Of course, when he’d met Danica he’d thought she was the type of woman he wanted, someone who had ambitions and dreams, who wanted more than to be a wife and a mother.
Someone who didn’t remind him of Ashley Roarke.
Since he’d been back in Pinehurst, it seemed as if everything reminded him of Ashley. Every street and shop and landmark brought back memories of times they’d spent together.
When he’d left town more than a dozen years ago, he’d left his high school sweetheart behind. He could have chosen a college closer to home and had, in fact, been far more tempted to do just that. Instead, he’d opted to put some serious distance between them, so that he wouldn’t be able to come home on a long weekend, so that he wouldn’t end up sacrificing his own dreams just because he was in love.
During his first few years away, he’d dated only occasionally, and the girls he had dated were usually blue-eyed blondes who reminded him of Ashley in some way. Not surprisingly, none of those relationships ever went very far.
An initial attraction sparked by a superficial resemblance to the girl he’d left behind inevitably fizzled when he finally accepted that no one else was Ashley. No one else’s eyes were as bright, no one else’s smile was so warm, no one else’s touch felt so right.
And then he met a dark-haired, dark-eyed first-year law student who didn’t resemble Ashley in any way.
Danica wasn’t looking to get married; she didn’t want to tie herself down. She had plans for her life and she wasn’t going to let anything—or anyone—stand in the way of fulfilling them.
She was, it had seemed to him then, his perfect match.
It had taken him a long time to realize what a mistake he’d made.
He sometimes wondered how differently his life might have turned out if he’d never gone away. If he’d never said goodbye to Ashley. But wondering and wishing couldn’t change the past, and though there had been more bumps in the road than he’d have chosen, he couldn’t regret where he was now.
Now he had Madeline, and she was the reason for everything he did, for everything he was. She would probably expect him to consult with her before making a decision on their housing situation since it would impact her future, too. But she wouldn’t be back from London for three more weeks and he didn’t want to wait that long.
He needed to move into a place of his own. He loved his parents dearly—in fact, being closer to them was one of the reasons he’d decided to move out of Seattle and look for a job in the area. But he was too old to be sleeping on living room furniture, and he certainly couldn’t share the couch with Madeline.
He considered calling her now, not just to tell her about the house but to hear her voice. But with the five-hour time difference, it was likely that she was already in bed.
He glanced at the spec sheet he still had in hand, then up at Tina. “What are they asking for rent?”
She told him the amount. “Plus utilities,” she said, sounding apologetic.
“It would almost be cheaper to buy it,” he noted.
“I think that’s the point. They are willing to rent, but they’d rather sell.”
Cam hesitated. He hadn’t considered buying a house. On the other hand, real estate was generally a good investment and he had no doubt his mortgage payments would be less than the quoted rental fee.
“I know you were adamant about wanting a house,” she said. “But I did find a couple of condos available for rent, and I’ve got the details with me if you want to take a look at those instead.”
He wasn’t usually impulsive, but something about this house just felt right. As if he and Madeline belonged there.
As if they’d finally come home.
And if it crossed his mind that being back in Pinehurst meant being near Ashley Roarke again, well, he pushed that thought aside.
Chapter Two
Ashley was a big fan of retail therapy. A great pair of shoes could put a smile on her face on the gloomiest of days, and she was positively beaming when she pulled onto Chetwood Street heading home after her shopping expedition Thursday afternoon.
Only two and a half weeks until the first day of school, and she was as excited as any of the first graders who would be entering her class.
She’d enjoyed the summer break and had, in fact, needed both the time away from the classroom and the solitude to let her bruised and battered heart heal. But six weeks of intense rest and relaxation along with some quality time spent with Marg & Rita had her feeling a lot better about herself and her future. Okay, so maybe she’d wallowed a little, but she’d eventually pulled herself out of the funk and now she wasn’t just ready but eager to move forward. Deciding to have a baby was a big step forward, but one she was more than ready to take.
Her already high spirits got another lift when she spotted the SOLD sign down the street. She hadn’t known the previous owners except to say hello in passing, but she’d heard that they were newlyweds when they’d first moved in and now, three years later, newly divorced. Maybe that was part of the reason she’d felt inexplicably saddened when they’d packed up, or maybe she’d just hated to think that the beautiful home had been abandoned, but today, the SOLD sign seemed to her another beacon of hope.
She pulled into her driveway already speculating about the new owners, wondering where they were from and when they’d move in. Were they another newlywed couple? Empty nesters? A family with kids? The neighborhood was an eclectic collection of each, including a few singles like herself.
Because she was thinking about her potential neighbors, she didn’t see the package propped up against the door until she was sliding her key into the lock. It was wrapped in brown paper and blended in with the paint, suggesting that she really should repaint the door to give the outside a little boost of color and a more welcoming feel. Since she wasn’t getting married and moving any time in the near future, she should consider adding some personal touches to make the house more distinctly her own.
She felt a slight pang when she thought of the wedding that wouldn’t be, but only slight. She was totally over Trevor now and determined not to let the absence of a husband prevent her from having the child she wanted.
She shifted her other bags, then tucked the flat parcel under her arm and carried it inside. She dumped everything on top of the dining room table before backtracking to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, found a can of her diet soda next to the regular Pepsi her sister favored and popped the top.
Megan had been married for three months now, but Ashley still missed having her around. She certainly missed her more than she missed her former fiancé—she shook her head, pushing him firmly out of her mind. She wasn’t going to ruin a perfectly nice day thinking about Trevor and what he’d done.
Instead, she carried her drink into the dining room, back to the mysterious paper-wrapped package. She couldn’t remember buying anything that needed to be delivered, but the neatly printed label had her name and address on it, so she turned the parcel over and lifted the tape.
As she pulled back the paper, revealing a polished walnut frame and the edge of a cream-colored mat, she realized it was a picture. Tearing the paper further, she sucked in a breath at the image of herself wrapped in the arms of her supposedly devoted fiancé.
The frame slipped from her fingers and crashed to the ground.
The glass broke, a long jagged crack across the center, slicing neatly between the images of Ashley and Trevor.
She’d canceled the wedding and everything related to it. She’d made the phone calls herself to the florist and the caterer; she’d notified the band and the pastry chef. She’d been too late to stop the order at the printer, but she’d been certain to shred each and every invitation and response card and personalized thank-you note when they were delivered. She knew there was no way she would have forgotten to contact the photographer.
Then she spotted the piece of paper tucked into the bottom corner of the frame. She reached for it, frowning as she unfolded it. If it was an invoice—
No, it was a note.
From Trevor.
Ashley,
I just wanted you to know that I’ve been thinking about you and missing you. I haven’t given up hope that we can find a way to work things out. I’m sending this picture to remind you of the happy times we had together, and to let you know that I want us to be together again. I love you. T xo
She tore the note into tiny pieces and let them fall from her hands like confetti. Of course, thinking of confetti made her think of weddings and that made her even angrier.
She picked up the broken frame and carted it to the kitchen to dump it in the garbage where it belonged. She was over him. She really was. Wholly and completely. But apparently she wasn’t over being mad.
She pulled the waste basket out of the cupboard and shoved the picture in it, determined to put Trevor out of her mind. As she pushed down on it, she felt a quick, slicing pain. She felt the blood, warm and wet, dripping down her hand, before she saw the streaks of red. And when she did, her stomach pitched.
She’d never done well with the sight of blood. Although cuts and scrapes were common occurrences with first graders, those cuts and scrapes could usually be fixed with a Band-Aid or an ice pack. Ashley peeked at her hand again and didn’t think a Band-Aid was going to do the job. Not this time.
She grabbed a clean dish towel from the drawer and wrapped it around her palm.
A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was almost five, so she knew that the phones at her doctor’s office would already have been turned over to the answering service. But she’d been a patient of Uncle Eli’s since she was a child and the duration of their relationship, combined with the fact that he’d been a good friend of both of her parents, meant that she could show up at his office at this late hour and know that he would make time for her. Hopefully that would save her a trip to the emergency room.
Fifteen minutes later, she was ushered into an exam room by the nurse.
“The doctor will be in to see you shortly,” Irene told her.
And Ashley, feeling a little queasy from the loss of blood, nodded gratefully, reassured that she’d made the right decision in coming here rather than the hospital.
An opinion that changed as soon as the doctor walked into the room.
Cam had been at the office since 8:00 a.m.
He knew that the nature of a family practice required a certain degree of flexibility with respect to unexpected emergencies, but as the day wore on and he worked through lunch, he wished that Courtney—the receptionist and general office manager—would show some appreciation of the same fact and schedule appointments with more than ten minutes between them.
By five o’clock, the number of patients in the waiting room had diminished sufficiently that there were enough chairs for those still waiting. By that same time, he’d managed to take half a dozen bites of the sandwich that Courtney had brought back for him when she returned from her lunch break. The thinning of the crowd combined with the silencing of his stomach gave him hope that he might actually get out of the office before he needed to return the following morning.
He was reaching for the file in the slot outside of exam room number two when Irene—Dr. Alexander’s sister and longtime nurse—slipped out of room number four. The guilty flush in her cheeks warned him that she’d squeezed in yet another patient who didn’t have an appointment.
He sighed. “I thought you wanted to go home as much as I do.”
“You need a home in order to go to it,” she said.
“I’ll have one soon enough,” he told her. “And you’re not going to distract me that easily.”
“I’m not trying to distract you at all.” She took his arm and steered him towards the door she’d just exited.
“I thought Mrs. Kirkland was next.”
“Mrs. Kirkland is a hypochondriac, but this patient is really bleeding.”
He sighed again and took the folder she thrust into his hands, not even having a moment to note the name on the tab before he walked in the room.
And found himself face-to-face with Ashley Roarke.
He faltered, at a sudden loss for words since “Hello, Ashley, I’m Dr. Turcotte”—the standard greeting he’d given to Dr. Alexander’s other patients—seemed a little ridiculous in light of their history.
But it was long ago history and he’d seen her only once since he’d left town more than a dozen years earlier—just a few months before at their high school reunion. Ashley had made it clear to him then then that she didn’t forgive him for leaving her and that she had no interest in reminiscing with him.
She’d also told him that she was getting married in a few months, he remembered now. But her purse was clutched in her left hand and the impressive diamond she’d worn at the reunion wasn’t on it.
Her other hand was wrapped in a bloody towel, and it was the blood that jerked him out of the past and firmly back into doctor mode.
He couldn’t think of her as the first woman he’d ever loved, the only woman he’d never forgotten. She was a patient, and it was his job to ascertain the nature of her injury and prescribe treatment.
“I, uh, came to see Eli,” she told him, breaking the awkward silence.
“He’s at the hospital.”
“Oh. Well.” She cleared her throat. “Okay. I’ll go there then. To the hospital. To catch up with him there.”
She was babbling, obviously not any more prepared for this unexpected meeting than he was. And though he was tempted to let her go, it was apparent that she hadn’t come to chat with Eli but for medical attention, and he wouldn’t shirk his duty.
