Page 17 of Surprise Baby for Mr. Fischer
Tentatively, I pushed open the door and stepped around an old soda machine I was restoring and a vintage motorcycle I’d just finished fixing up. “Hello?”
“Harper.” Dad sounded annoyed. His deep voice reverberated around the small space.
I sighed and walked through the door, shutting it behind me. “Hey, Dad.”
There were three rooms within my converted garage. The main room at the front was where I stored my picker pieces once they were cleaned up and ready to sell. Another was for storage and my primary workspace. The last was my office, where Dad was likely sitting in my chair, strumming his fingers on my polished antique desk.
“To what do I owe the pleas—” I gasped as I entered the room and found Dad staring at the map I’d carefully kept concealed under a brightly woven tapestry on the wall.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“I can explain.” I swallowed past the lump building in my throat.
“We’ve discussed this, Harper.” He pointed to the spots I’d put in a pin to mark my future destinations. “We decided this wasn’t a good idea.”
I was capable of following my dream. How could I get him to see that everything he’d taught me had made me ready for this? “Youdecided it wasn’t a good idea. I’m twenty-four years old. You can’t dictate what I do with my life.”
He ran a hand through his longish graying hair, his blue eyes flashing in frustration. “I’d thought you’d given up this dream. Especiallynow—” He swiped his hand in the air, directing it at me—or, more specifically, my stomach.
My hand curled protectively around my belly. “That’s not fair.”
“You have responsibilities now. You have to let go of this dream to travelalonearound the country.” He crossed his arms. “Why don’t you just find a nice local boy to settle down with here and take care of your baby?”
I hated hearing the exasperation in his voice. He meant well, but those werehisdreams for me. Not mine. “Dad, the baby isn’t going to stop me from doing what I want to do. You can’t keep me here forever.”
“You aren’t going, Harper.” His statement had a finality to it, but I wasn’t going to take it. “Your mother and I won't allow it.”
“It’s not your decision. This baby and I will travel together. I’ll figure it out.” Why did he refuse to see that I'd grown up? And I knew Mom wasn’t dead set on me not going. He was.
Dad shook his head. When his shoulders slumped in a rare sign of defeat, my heart broke. My father was an imposing man. To see him stop fighting me was dispiriting.
“Daddy.” Rarely did I call him that anymore. I moved closer and laid my hand on his arm. “I appreciate that you want to keep me safe. But I can take care of myselfandthis baby.”
A heavy sigh left his lips. “And the father?”
“Isn’t involved.” I’d never shared with my family who the father was. How could I? I only knew his first name, Kade, and that he lived in the Los Angeles area. I tried calling him, but his number was no longer in service. Then I searched online, but found nothing with the little I had to go off of.
“Is it that French guy?” Dad’s lips twisted. The only reason Dad hadn't liked Damien was because he thought I'd fall in love with him and get swept away to go live in Paris.
I snorted. “Damien? No, Dad.” Damien worked for Ashlyn’s husband in their Paris location. We’d gone on a few dates when he visited at the end of August. Damien was hot, but after being with Kade, my heart hadn’t been in it.
Then I found out I was several weeks pregnant and broke it off. We were attracted to each other, but it hadn’t felt right.
I leaned around my father, this time to pull the tapestry off the wall. There was no sense in hiding the map now that Dad had seen it. Pregnant or not, I was going to travel the country and find treasure. My local junk-capades were legendary on my Singing Picker vlog—well, to the few thousand fans I had. The next step was to travel farther than the surrounding states, like the showAmerican Pickersdid.
I placed the folded tapestry on my desk and turned to face Dad. “It’s going to be okay, Daddy. I promise.”
He reached out and pulled me into a hug. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. Everything seemed to make me want to cry lately. Damn hormones.
That September day I found out was permanently etched in my brain. I’d gone to Ashlyn’s place for dinner with her and Stella. By the end of the night, I headed home with pregnancy-induced vomit on my shirt and a positive test in my hand. It took me days to work up the nerve to tell my family. I only cracked when Hazel unknowingly joked that I must be pregnant based on the number of times I’d thrown up that week. I hadn’t been able to deny it.
Dad gave me one last squeeze and stepped away. “You know I’m only trying to help.”
I nodded.
I’d been my parent’s last shot at getting a boy. When I fell in love with fixing cars and finding old treasures like Dad, he’d been ecstatic. We’d developed a tight bond over the years, one that had been shaken when he realized I wanted more than a life in our small town.
He hated the idea of me traveling on my own. Dad was protective of me. I think it stemmed from how closely he cared for my mother now that her battle with multiple sclerosis was getting worse. So much of his identity was wrapped up in keeping his family safe. Now, my unexpected pregnancy made him worry even more.
