Page 50 of Surprise Baby for Mr. Fischer
“Oh, this is it. Thank you.” She clutched the dusty, old toy box to her chest and stared at me as though I’d hung the moon and the stars.
An ache built in my chest.What would it be like to have her look at me like that all the time?I shook off the thought. I’d always thought I was better off without a family to disappoint. Yet, for the first time, a part of me yearned to figure this out with her. To find a way to see if we could work together and raise this baby. But what if I found a way to fuck it all up?
Harper moved to a nearby workbench. She pulled out a pair of gloves from an open toolbox she’d grabbed from her car earlier and slid them on. Then she gently laid down the brightly colored box on the surface and wriggled the edge of the package free. With absolute concentration, she pulled out a small knight and horse set. The box read Timpo Model Toys.
She turned the horse over and inspected it before inspecting the knight. “It’s in near perfect condition,” she gasped. “How? This is so cool. Do you see the details?”
Her hands darted this way and that while she pointed out minor details. It was fascinating to see her evident joy in finding this old toy. She regaled me with little facts she knew about it, and then begged me to look up more online. We discussed how jousting was a sport traced back to the Middle Ages and how she wanted to mention that in her vlog. Before we finished, I had a whole page of notes about jousting, becoming a knight, and the production of Timpo toys.
“What made you get into all this?” I asked while we walked back to my house to get lunch before we started filming. Our feet crunched across the frozen ground, leaving footprints in the light dusting of snow.
Shading her eyes against the sun, she looked up at me. Her lips curved into a slight smile. “My dad.”
“Are you close?” I got to the front door first and held it open for her.
She nodded. “He loves this stuff. And none of my sisters were interested. So when I started tagging along, it became our thing. Mom has MS. She was more mobile when my older sisters were younger, but by the time Hope and I came along, it was getting harder for her.”
“I’m sorry.” A sharp pain hit me with the realization that her childhood had been difficult, just in a different way than mine. The biggest difference was the obvious love her parents had for her.
We hung our winter coats on the hook by the door.
“It’s okay. I don’t know her any differently than she is now. She’s a fighter. Sometimes it’s hard, though—seeing her struggle, knowing there’s nothing I can do.”
“Is that why you and your sisters took over the family shop?”
“A little.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “The shop was all Mom. She loves antiques, and Dad loves her. So whatever dream she had, he wanted to support her.”
“Does your dad help run the store?” I trailed behind Harper, watching her hips sway with each step she took. I had to force my gaze away to concentrate on her response.
“Not as much now. He was grateful to turn it over to us. Cars are his passion. He could tinker all day.” Harper sat on the couch, and I sat in the armchair next to it.
“That must be nice to have him able to help whenever you have car trouble.”
Harper snorted. “I can handle any of the basic stuff myself. He decided at least one of us should know how to fix cars, and he lets me help restore some of the antique ones from time to time.”
A picture of Harper as a kid, with pigtails and grease-stained overalls, sliding under a car to help her dad filled my head. I wondered if our child would look like her. Would he or she want to follow her around exploring, looking for old objects to restore? The thoughts dimmed my fears about failing as a parent, but didn’t completely erase my dread of not being able to create a happy childhood for our baby.
“He must be proud of you.”
She gave me a one-shoulder shrug and pursed her lips.
I stayed silent, afraid my question might push her away from me. I figured if we should try to be friends for our child’s sake, although my heart protested, reminding me that it wanted far more than just her friendship.
I was afraid to push her for too much, too fast. Our attraction to each other was fierce, but our companionship was tenuous at best. As close as we got the weekend we met, we were just now establishing a foundation—one that could sustain our relationship outside of the bedroom.
Harper wiped a tear. The single act broke my heart.
She cleared her throat. “We were always super close. But lately, he’s had a hard time accepting my life choices.”
“He’s not happy about the baby?” I’d hate it if Harper’s family hadn’t been supportive about her pregnancy. She would’ve been all alone these last few months.
“Yes and no.” She threaded her fingers together and placed them in her lap. Her eyes raised to meet mine, tears shimmering in their depths. “He thinks I should find a local boy, settle down, and be happy with what I have here.”
A tightness grabbed a hold of my heart. Another man raising my kid? While I wasn’t sure about my capabilities as a father, I hated the thought of another guy becoming a parental figure to my unborn child even more. My lips parted, but an unexpected pang of jealousy stopped me from replying.
“It’s what he wants for me. I know it won’t be easy, but I don’t need to settle for a life I don’t want. I can travel with the baby just fine.”
The tightness eased a tiniest bit.
