“It’s ten weeks, Dakota. You’ll live.”
“Maybe, but I won’t like it.”
Her mother’s mouth twitched. “Ah, that maturity that always makes me so proud.”
The teasing was good, Dakota thought. Things were about to get a lot more serious.
She’d put off this conversation for several months now, but knew it was time to come clean. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep things a secret, it’s that she knew the truth would hurt her mother. And Denise had already been through enough.
Dakota took a cookie and put it on a napkin in front of her but didn’t taste it. “Mom, I have to tell you something.”
Nothing about Denise’s expression changed, yet Dakota felt her stiffen. “What?”
“I’m not sick or dying or going to be arrested.”
Dakota drew in a breath. She studied the placement of the chocolate chips, the rough edges of the cookie, because it was easier than looking at the one person who loved her best.
“You know at Christmas I talked about wanting to adopt?”
Her mother sighed. “Yes, and while I think it’s wonderful, it’s a little premature. How do you know you won’t find a wonderful man and get married and want to have kids the old-fashioned way?”
Material they’d been over a dozen times before, Dakota thought, knowing she only had herself to blame. Regardless of her mother’s opinion, she’d gone ahead with the paperwork and had already been vetted by the agency she’d chosen.
“You know my period has always been difficult for me,” she began. While her sisters sailed through “that time of the month,” Dakota had suffered from a lot of pain.
“Yes. We went to the doctor a few times about it.”
Their family doctor had always said everything was fine. He’d been wrong.
“Last fall things seemed to get worse. I went to my gynecologist and she did some testing.” Dakota finally raised her gaze and looked at her mother. “I have a form of polycystic ovarian syndrome and pelvic endometriosis.”
“What? I know what endometriosis is, but the other?” Her mother sounded worried.
Dakota smiled. “Don’t panic. It’s not all that scary or contagious. PCOS is a hormone imbalance. I’m handling it by keeping my weight down and exercising. I take a few hormones. On its own it can make getting pregnant really difficult.”
Denise frowned. “All right,” she said slowly. “And the pelvic endometriosis? That means what? Cysts or growths?”
“Something like that. Dr. Galloway was surprised I had both, but it can happen. She cleaned things up so I don’t have the pain anymore.”
Her mother leaned toward her. “What are you saying? Did you have an operation? Were you in the hospital?”
“No. It was a simple outpatient thing. I was fine.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because that was the least of it.”
Dakota swallowed. She’d been so careful not to let anyone know. She hadn’t wanted to have to listen to sympathy, to hear people say it would be fine when she’d known it wouldn’t be. She’d been in a place where words would only make things worse.
But weeks, then months, had passed and the old cliché about time healing all wounds was nearly true. She wasn’t healed, but she could finally say the truth aloud. She should know—she’d been practicing in her small rented house for days now.
She forced herself to look into her mother’s concerned, dark eyes. “The PCOS is under control. I’m going to live a long, healthy life. Either condition makes it more difficult to get pregnant. Having both of them means it’s pretty unlikely I can get pregnant the old-fashioned way, as you said. Dr. Galloway says it’s about a one-in-one-hundred shot.”
Denise’s mouth trembled and tears pooled in her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, honey, no.”
Dakota had half expected recriminations. A cry of “Why didn’t you tell me?” Instead her mother stood, then pulled her to her feet and held on as if she would never let go.
The warmth of the familiar embrace touched Dakota’s cold, dark places. Those buried so deep, she hadn’t even known they were there.
“I’m sorry,” her mother told her, kissing her cheek. “You said you found out last fall?”
Dakota nodded.
“Your sisters mentioned something had upset you. We thought it was a man, but it was this, wasn’t it?
Dakota nodded again. She’d gone into work after finding out what was wrong and had started sobbing in front of her boss. While she’d never told him the cause, her grief hadn’t exactly been subtle.
“I shouldn’t be surprised you kept it to yourself,” her mother told her. “You were always the one to think things through before talking to anyone.”
They sat back at the table.
“I wish I could fix this,” Denise admitted. “I wish I’d done more when you first had these problems as a teenager. I feel so guilty.”
“Don’t,” Dakota told her. “It’s just one of those things.”
Denise drew in a breath. Dakota could see the determination returning to her mother’s eyes.
“Regardless,” Denise said firmly, “you’re healthy and strong and you’ll get through this. As you said, there are things that can be done. When you get married, you and your husband can decide what you want to do.” She paused. “This is why you’re adopting. You want to be sure you have children.”
“Yes. When I found all this out, I felt broken inside.”
“You’re not broken.”
“I know that in my head, but in my heart I’m not so sure. What if I never get married?”
“You will.”
“Mom, I’m twenty-eight years old. I’ve never been in love. Isn’t that weird?”
“You’ve been busy. You had your doctorate before you were twenty-five. That took tremendous effort.”
“I know, but…” She’d always wanted a man in her life. She just couldn’t seem to find him. At this point, she wasn’t even searching for Mr. Right. A reasonably decent guy who didn’t run screaming into the night at the sight of her would be pretty darned fabulous.
“I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m perfectly capable of being a single mom. It’s not like I’ll be alone—not in this town, or with my family.”
“No, you wouldn’t be alone, but having children will make it difficult to find the right man.”
“If I meet someone who can’t accept all of me, including an adopted child, then he’s not the guy for me.”
Denise smiled. “I raised such wonderful children.”
Dakota laughed. “Because it’s all about you.”
“Sometimes.” She leaned forward. “All right, adoption it is. Have you started looking? Can I help?”
Emotions swelled inside of Dakota—the most powerful was gratitude. No matter what, she could always depend on her mom.
“I couldn’t go through it without you. Adopting as a single parent isn’t easy. I researched international adoptions and applied with an agency that works exclusively in Kazakhstan.”
“I don’t even know where that is.”
“Kazakhstan is the ninth largest country in the world and the largest country that is completely landlocked.” Dakota shrugged. “I did research.”
“I can tell.”
“Russia is to the north, China to the southeast. The agency was very open and encouraging about the adoption. I filled out the paperwork and prepared to wait.”
Her mother’s mouth dropped open. “You’re getting a child.”
Dakota winced. “No. In late January, after I’d finished the paperwork and had the home and background checks, they called and said they had a little boy for me. But the next day they called back and said there’s been a mistake. He was going to another family. A couple.”
She drew in a breath to keep from crying. At some point the body should just run out of tears, but she had enough personal experience to know that didn’t happen.
“I’m not clear if it was an honest mistake or if they prefer couples and that’s why I didn’t get him. I’m still on the waiting list and the director of the agency swears it’s going to happen.”
Her mother leaned back in her chair. “I can’t believe you’ve been through all this on your own.”
“I couldn’t talk about it,” Dakota said quickly. “Not with anyone. At first I felt too frail to discuss it at all. Then I was afraid I’d jinx the adoption. It wasn’t you, Mom.”
“How could it be?” Denise asked. “I’m practically perfect. But still.”
For the second time, Dakota laughed. It felt good to find humor in life again. She’d had a few months where nothing had been happy or right.
Dakota touched her arm. “I’m dealing. Most days it’s okay. Sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed. Maybe if I’d been in a relationship, I wouldn’t have felt so unlovable.”
“You’re not unlovable. You’re beautiful and smart and fun to be with. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“That’s what I tell myself. Apparently the entire gender is blind and stupid.”
“They are. You’ll find someone.”
“I’m not so sure. I can’t blame my lack of love life on the man shortage here. Not entirely. I didn’t date when I was away at college, either.” She shrugged. “I haven’t told anyone, Mom. I’ll talk to Nevada and Montana in a few days. If you wouldn’t mind, I thought you could tell my brothers after that.” Denise would explain what had happened in simple terms, and it would be a whole lot less embarrassing than coming from her.
Her mother nodded. Once her sisters knew, they would want to rally, but there wasn’t anything to do. Her body was different. Most of the time she was okay with that.
“You’re still on the list to get a baby from Kazakhstan?” her mother asked.
“Yes. Eventually I should get a call. I’m staying positive.”
“That’s important. I know you don’t love working on the reality show, but it’s a nice distraction.”
“It’s beyond crazy. What were they thinking? Mayor Marsha is terrified something bad is going to happen. You know how she loves the town.”
“We all do,” Denise said absently. She frowned slightly. “Just because you haven’t fallen in love yet doesn’t mean you’re not going to. Loving someone and being loved is a gift. Relax and it will happen.”
Dakota hoped she was right. She leaned toward her mother. “You got really lucky with dad. Maybe it’s a genetic thing, like being a good singer.”
Her mother grinned. “Meaning I should start dating again? Oh, please. I’m too old.”
“Hardly.”
“It’s an interesting idea, but not for today.” She rose and walked toward the refrigerator. “Now, what can I fix you to eat? A BLT? I think I have some frozen quiche, too.”
Dakota thought about pointing out that this wasn’t a problem that could be fixed by food. Not that her mother would listen. Denise was nothing, if not traditional.
“A BLT would be nice,” she said, knowing it wasn’t the sandwich that would make her feel better, but the love that went into it.
DAKOTA WAS MEETING her sisters at Jo’s Bar. She arrived a little early—mostly because her house had gotten too quiet, with only her thoughts to keep her company.
She crossed to the bar, prepared to order a lemondrop martini, only to realize that Finn Andersson was standing in the center of the room, looking more than a little confused.
Poor guy, she thought as she walked toward him. Jo’s Bar wasn’t the usual kind of hangout where a man went at the end of a difficult day.
Until very recently, most of the businesses in Fool’s Gold were owned by and catered to women. Including everyone’s favorite bar.
Jo was a pretty woman in her thirties. She’d moved to town a few years ago, bought the bar and converted it into the kind of place where women felt comfortable. The lighting was flattering, the bar stools had backs and hooks for hanging purses, and the big-screen TVs were tuned to Project Runway and pretty much anything on HGTV. Music always played. Tonight it was ’80s rock.
The men had their place—it was a small room in back with a pool table. But without preparation, Jo’s Bar could be shocking to the average male.
“It’s okay,” Dakota said, coming up behind Finn and leading him to the bar. “You’ll get used to it.”
He shook his head as if trying to clear his vision. “Are those walls pink?”
“Mauve,” she told him. “A very flattering color.”
“It’s a bar.” He looked around. “I thought it was a bar.”
“We do things a little differently here in Fool’s Gold,” she told him. “This is a bar that mainly caters to women. Although men are always welcome. Come on. Have a seat. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Is it going to have an umbrella in it?”
She laughed. “Jo doesn’t believe in putting umbrellas in drinks.”
“I guess that’s something.”
He followed her to the bar and took a seat. The padded stool seemed a bit small for his large frame, but he didn’t complain.
“This is the craziest place I’ve ever been,” he admitted, glancing at her.