They’d apparently worked wonders on Grace’s nauseous stomach when she’d been pregnant. She had high hopes that those—along with the cup of herbal tea that was going down sip by sip—would do the same for Harper.
So far it was working…and she was only slightly jealous of the caffeine glaze in both Grace’s and Mel’s eyes as they enjoyed their morning coffee.
The doctor had said it could take a month or two before things evened out and her appetite got back to normal. Until then she was going to try to see if the anti-nausea meds she’d been prescribed combined with some natural remedies would do the trick.
She really didn’t have any other options.
“Okay. So what’s the plan of attack?” Grace asked. “When are you telling him?”
“Yeah.” Mel nodded as she put her mug down on the table. “Are you calling him, or going there? Or what?”
“I don’t know yet.” Harper chewed on her bottom lip. “This isn’t exactly information I want to tell him over the phone. But seeing him again is going to be complicated.”
“Sweetie, I think from here on out we’re going to have to deal with everything being complicated,” Grace said before she took another sip of her coffee.
“I know,” Harper groaned, dropping her head and gently banging it against the table.
“Okay, I have a thought that might prevent you from doing that,” Mel said as she patted the back of Harper’s head. “I don’t think giving yourself a concussion is the answer.”
Harper lifted her head and looked across the table at her friend. “What’s your plan?”
“Give yourself the week. It hasn’t even been thirty minutes since we left the doctor and this was all really official. And I think you should get out of town this weekend.”
“What?” Harper asked.
“Give yourself a second to breathe,” Grace agreed.
“And do what?”
“Come to Jacksonville for the Stampede party. Dale’s mom can’t go so there’s an extra ticket and hotel room.” Mel grabbed a cookie and dipped it in her coffee. “You should get away for a few days.”
“Because we all know how well getting away worked for me the last time I did it.” Harper made a motion to her stomach over the table.
“This time it will be different. You’ll have a responsible chaperone, and I will be sure not to leave you on your own,” Mel said. “Come on. You should take advantage of a little distraction.”
As the team was celebrating winning the Stanley Cup, the Stampede party promised to be a big event. And would probably be filled with distractions galore. Abby Fields’s boyfriend, Logan James, was one of the bigger players on the team, and he’d developed a number of relationships with some of the members of Mirabelle. The two most important being Mel’s little brother Hamilton O’Bryan, and his best friend Dale Rigels.
It had been a few months before Dale’s seventeenth birthday when the doctors had found the brain tumor. The surgery to remove it had been done immediately and he’d gone through chemo afterward. Now he was three months into remission. Logan had come to visit Dale during his recovery, and they’d kept up with each other ever since.
As Mel’s husband Bennett had become a bit of a mentor, and big brother to both boys, he and Mel were going with them to play chaperone. So what was one more person to watch over? Even if she was a grown-ass adult?
Harper grabbed another cookie and bit into it; she might as well take the time while she had it…because everything was about to change very soon.
Who was she kidding? It already was changing.
Had changed.
* * *
On a normal day Harper worked until after five, sometimes six. But that day was not a normal day. Not only had it been incredibly slow, but she finished up before three, which was the biggest godsend.
If someone were to ask her what had happened that day, it would’ve been hard for her to remember. She’d pretty much just gone through the motions of everything. But how could she focus when she couldn’t shut her brain off from the all-consuming anxiety and worry…or continuously thinking of how she was going to tell Liam.
Before she knew it, she was pulling up in front of her parents’ house and putting her Cruiser in Park. She leaned back in the seat, taking just a moment to collect herself before she went inside.
The rule of show no weakness around her mother was more important than ever. There would be no pregnancy revelations to anyone else until she told Liam. At least she knew that much.
She took another couple of steady breaths as her eyes focused on the two three-story Victorian houses in front of her.
Harper’s family had moved to Mirabelle fifteen years ago. It was right before she was about to start middle school and she hadn’t been exactly thrilled about leaving her life in Atlanta. But now she couldn’t imagine growing up anywhere else.
The two houses were pretty much smack dab in the middle of downtown and they stood about thirty yards apart. Besides the different paint colors—one sage green, the other dark blue—they were identical in every way.
Well, there was another difference. The green one was a residential home and where Harper lived from the age of eleven to eighteen. The blue was the St. Francis Veterinary Clinic…though a case could be made that Harper had spent almost as much time there as the house.
Her father had inherited the clinic from his uncle, and as it was the only vet in the area, it stayed pretty busy. She’d always been there helping out especially when they’d started the pet adoption/foster portion.
Mirabelle was part of Atticus County, and the only animal shelter in the area was a kill shelter. So for a couple of years, the clinic had been the temporary home to as many cats and dogs that could be taken in and saved from being euthanized. Harper would spend many hours playing with them and giving them as much attention as possible.
These days, there were a number of foster homes that would take in the animals until they were adopted. It was a much better option than them living in cages for weeks on end.
Or being put down.
The St. Francis Foster Pet Adoption program was one of the reasons that Harper needed to stop by her parents’ house. Her mother was putting together baskets for a fund-raiser, and she’d asked for some of Harper’s lotions and oils.
Which was something Harper found beyond interesting.
There were a number of things that Delilah Laurence didn’t approve of, and her daughter’s career choice was near the top. Though this didn’t stop her from hitting Harper up for the homemade “lotions and potions” that everyone else loved, not to mention a donated gift certificate for massage “services rendered” had been requested more times than could be counted.
None of that changed the facts: a massage therapist was not a way to make a living.
The words had never actually been spoken, but Harper was pretty sure that was one of the reasons her mother had liked Brad so much. He was successful. So when her career as a massage therapist failed her “husband” would be able to take care of her.
Not only had that not worked out, but now Harper was pregnant without any husband at all.
Oh, look at that, her anxiety was spiking again.
Well, might as well give herself a small reprieve and go over to see her father before she had to face the firing squad that was her mother. The constant contention that she had with her mother was non-existent in the relationship she had with her father. She was a daddy’s girl through and through.
When she walked inside the clinic she was greeted with the customary squawk of Gabby, the white and yellow cockatoo perched at the currently empty receptionist desk. The bird had been surrendered to the practice ten years ago when the owner died, and was now the unofficial mascot of the practice.
“Hello.” Gabby flapped her wings as she adjusted on the stand.