The Pregnancy Plan / Hope's Child. Helen R. Myers

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ