Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena)(77)

“I’ll explain everything, but first I need water and I need you to open your shop,” Frankie said. Blanket was trailing behind, his sides heaving as if they’d arrived on foot, from twenty miles away. In a full sprint.

“Emerson, can you get a bottle of water?” Harper asked. Then to Frankie, “I’m not working today. I’m helping out at Beat the Heat.”

“Shit.” Frankie looked around at the crowd. It was still pretty sparse because of the early hour, but the crowd was growing. “I need to buy something. Now.” She looked at Shay, who was her sister-in-law, then handed her the leash. “You watch him. And you,” she said, looking at Harper, “come with me.” She grabbed Harper by the arm and dragged her away from everyone. “I need to buy a test for the . . .” She mouthed baby.

“Oh my God!” Harper took the woman’s hand in her own. “You’re . . .” Pregnant?

Frankie looked at their linked hands and back to Harper, obviously not comfortable with physical contact, or maybe it was public displays of affection, or neither. Harper released her hand and played it cool. “So the weekend getaway worked then?”

“I don’t know. I feel the same, but Blanket’s been acting weird, nuzzling my belly, giving it little love bites. Then last night he started dropping his teething rings on my belly. Two blue rings, right on my belly. It’s a sign, right?”

Harper stood there, mouth open, looking like a fish gasping her last breath. “Uh, I’m not sure alpacas have the gift of fertility detection.” When Frankie looked as if she disagreed, Harper asked, “Have you taken a test?”

“That’s why I’m here. I need you to open your shop so I can take one.”

“We don’t sell, uh, those at the Fashion Flower. Or the Boulder Holder.” In case that was her next question.

“You sell stuff on how to get . . .”—Frankie’s expression told her to fill in the word pregnant—“and stuff for when you’re . . .” pregnant . . . “but nothing to actually see if you are” . . . pregnant?

“Why don’t you go to Bottles and Bottles?” Harper said. “I know the pharmacy will have some. And why are we still not saying the word?”

“I don’t want to jinx it, and do you think I would be here if I could go there?”

“No?”

Frankie glanced around and, clearly not satisfied with their current level of seclusion, dragged Harper even deeper behind the big oak tree. “Look, Mrs. Peters plays poker with Aunt Luce, and she is cousins with Nate’s grandma. And ChiChi has the biggest mouth in town. If either one of them hears I bought a test, then I’ll arrive home to a baby shower. And then what if I’m not and everyone thinks I am?”

Harper saw the problem. If Frankie wasn’t pregnant or if something went wrong, she’d have to explain to the whole town what happened. That would be as humiliating as it was heartbreaking.

“Do you want me to take you to the doctor?” Harper asked.

“No, I want you to go buy me a test.”

Harper froze, stock-still. “Same problem applies here. I walk in there and ask for a test and the rumor mill will start sending out smoke signals about me before I get back to you.”

“Mrs. Peters won’t suspect a thing if you walk in there all smiles and goodwill,” Frankie said, a little desperate now.

“What if we ask Shay? She’s married. No reason for gossip.”

“Are you crazy?” Harper wanted to point out that no, she was not the crazy one in this party, but Frankie wasn’t done. “If Shay finds out, Jonah finds out. And since all my brothers gossip like a bunch of little girls when they get together”—Frankie shook her head—“it would be safer to take out an ad in the paper.”

Frankie took a deep breath, as if to center herself, and Harper could see actual tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t even know if I’d be a good mom. When people see me, maternal usually isn’t something they think. But Nate swears I’ll be the best mom, just like his, and when he talks like that I believe him.”

The confidence and love she heard in Frankie’s voice when speaking of her husband, and their bond, was moving. Inspiring. It made Harper want to find that for herself—with Adam.

Taking a deep breath, Harper said, “This is a bad idea.”

“No it’s not.” Frankie took her by the shoulders. “We’ll just make up some story.”

“You do remember I’m the worst liar on the planet, right?”

“I know, but you’ve got two blocks to work on your craft.”

With a twenty in her pocket and a smack to the butt, Harper was sent on her way. Five minutes and a creative story about running out of paint stirrers later, Mrs. Peters handed over a super pack of pregnancy tests with a suspicious grin, and Harper found herself standing outside a porta-potty, sharing a Pop-Tart with Blanket.

“What’s taking so long?” Harper asked. “The directions said two minutes. It’s been like ten. People are starting to notice something is up.”

“Two per test,” Frankie said through the plastic door. “I’m taking all three, which is why I needed the water. I still have one left.”

“What did the first two say?”