Wilder Hearts: Once Upon a Pregnancy

After he turned onto Maple and passed the first curve in the road, she realized that’s exactly what he had in mind.

He pulled along the curb in front of a three-story, pale yellow Victorian-style home with white gingerbread trim and shut off the ignition.

The house needed paint and some fix-it work done, but the place had enormous potential.

“The owners agreed to rent it to me before the close of escrow,” he said. “So I moved in early this morning. Come on. I want to show you the inside, as well as the yard.”

As he led her to the house, she realized that the lawn had been freshly mowed, trimmed and watered. She also saw that the sidewalk and porch had been swept clean and washed down. She suspected Mike had been eager to get to work on his new place.

Or had he wanted to make a good impression on her?

He unlocked the front door and waited for her to enter. Once they were inside the house, he pointed out the hardwood floors, a redbrick fireplace that bore smoke and soot stains from years of use and a curved banister that led upstairs.

The walls had been covered in a faded blue-and-yellow floral wallpaper that Simone suspected was part of the original decor. If not, it had been a part of the house for years.

There were five bedrooms upstairs and one down. It seemed like a lot of square footage for a single man. Still, she could understand why a guy like him might want to tackle a big renovation, as this was bound to be.

The kitchen, with its retro-style appliances and scarred gray linoleum, needed to be remodeled. The bathrooms—three of them—did, too. Yet there was a charm to the place, and she truly believed Mike had lucked out when it went on the market.

“The house is wonderful, Mike. You’re really going to enjoy refurbishing it.”

“I know. And I can’t wait to get started.” He placed a hand on her back and ushered her through the kitchen to the service porch, then out the door. The back lawn, like the one in front, had been newly mowed. A sprinkler had been turned on and was raining some much-needed water on the dried-out blades of grass.

She suspected, before long, it would soon be a lovely shade of green.

On the other hand, the shrubs, trees and bushes were in desperate need of a trim, and the flower beds could stand some attention from someone with a green thumb.

“The yard still looks like a jungle,” Mike said, “but with some work, I ought to be able to whip it into shape before you know it.”

“You’re going to get lost inside of this old place alone. Are you planning to fix it up, then turn around and resell it?”

For a moment, his smile faltered, and his excitement waned. But just for a beat. “I plan to get married and fill it up with kids.”

She suspected he’d been thinking about her and knew she would have to disappoint him again.

Yet the thought of him finding a younger woman and creating a family with someone else twisted her heart in an unnatural direction.

Rather than deal with the emotional discomfort of either option, she clung to the silence.

Mike walked to the side of the house, where he turned off the sprinkler. “I’ll take Wags with me when I drop you off.”

She ought to be happy to have one less dog, but she’d gotten attached to the little scamp. Of course, she didn’t dare mention anything like that.

“Would it be okay with you if I picked up Woofer sometimes and brought him over to visit Wags?” Mike asked.

“Sure.” The dogs had become much closer these days, and she suspected they’d miss each other.

Shared custody, an inner voice whispered, bringing to mind that unsettling term again. But she quickly shrugged it off.

Mike grabbed some kind of electrical, long-handled tool that had been leaning near the back porch. “Do you mind if we make a stop before I take you home and pick up Wags? I have to return this edger.”

She didn’t mind. Nor was she in any hurry to get rid of that scruffy puppy with big, brown eyes. She was going to miss the little guy who met her at the door or the gate with a yappy bark and an I-need-you whine.

After locking up the house, they headed for his Jeep. And moments later, they were on the road. Mike drove along Lexington to the other side of Walnut River and turned onto Cambridge Court.

When he parked in front of a white stucco house with redbrick trim, she asked, “Who lives here?”

“My folks. I borrowed the edger from my dad.”

All the way across town? It would have been easier to drop her off at her house first. Of course, he also wanted to pick up Wags. Maybe he didn’t want to take Wags to his parents’ house.

Yet something told her he might have an ulterior motive for bringing her with him. Had he come up with a phony excuse to force her to meet his parents?

“Come in with me,” he said, reaching for the door handle.

Simone stiffened. “Why?”

“Because I’d like to introduce you to my mom and dad.”

Had he told them about the baby? About his plans to marry her?

A sense of panic settled over her, and she couldn’t seem to move.

“You can wait in the car if you want,” he said. “But you don’t need to do that. Just come inside and say hello. We can leave whenever you want to.”

Her stance didn’t soften in the least. “Did you tell them about the baby?”

If he had, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

“No,” he said, “I haven’t said a word to anyone. Not even to Leif. But that’s not because I didn’t want to.”

He seemed to have backed her into a corner, and while she didn’t feel like going through the how-do-you-do and the nice-to-meet-you motions, she unhooked her seat belt and got out of the Jeep.

As she strode up the walkway, she tugged at the hemline on her blouse, now really hoping it didn’t look like a maternity top.

When Mike rang the bell, he didn’t wait for anyone to answer. Instead, he swung open the door for Simone and called out, “Hey, it’s me. Is anyone home?”

“Mikey!” a woman’s voice said. “Come on in. I’m in the kitchen.”

As Mike led Simone through the house, she couldn’t help looking around the modest but cozy living room, with its display of family photos on the mantel of a brick fireplace.

The warm aroma of sugar and spice filled the air and suggested someone was baking. As Mike led her to a small but functional kitchen, the mouthwatering scent grew stronger.

Sure enough, she’d been right. A salt-and-pepper-haired woman wearing oven mitts was placing a cake onto an open breadboard to cool off. When she straightened, a loose curl flopped onto her forehead.

“Looks like we arrived just in time,” Mike said to Simone. “My mom is the best cook in New England, if not the entire country.”

Mrs. O’Rourke caught Simone’s eye and grinned. “My kids are biased. But I do love to cook. And there’s usually something on the stove or in the oven. I never know when one of them will come home. And when they do, they often have several friends with them.” She removed the mitts and reached out a hand to Simone. “Hi. I’m Rhonda O’Rourke. And while you’re welcome to have some carrot cake, it’ll taste better after it cools and I can whip up the sour-cream frosting.”