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I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it.”
“What did you say?”
“That I’d think about it. I don’t know what to do. I’ve told him I’m not interested in a relationship, but he admitted he’s hoping that after we’ve slept together it’ll change everything.”
“It might,” she points out.
“It won’t,” I reply. “I won’t let it. But he thinks it will, and it seems unfair to keep him hanging on, hoping.”
“You told him this?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What did he say?”
“That it was his problem and I should let him worry about it.”
“He has a point.”
“So you think I should go for it?”
Her lips curve up. “Let’s go over it again. He’s agreed to help you get pregnant. You won’t have to go to a hospital, you won’t have to see a doctor, you can maximize the chance of the sperm meeting the egg by having sex multiple times, and on top of it he’s offered you boundless wonderful orgasms.”
“Well if you put it like that…”
We both dissolve into laughter, and we’re both still giggling when Noah appears at the door.
“Something funny?” he says, amused.
“No,” I say immediately, giving Abby a warning glance. She mimes zipping her mouth closed, and I laugh. “We’re just comparing notes.”
“And it made you laugh? That doesn’t sound promising.”
“Aw.” I stand and kiss his cheek. “Let’s just say you came out of it very positively, Noah King.”
I say goodbye to Abby and thank her for her help. Ethan has fallen asleep, and I bend and kiss his forehead before going with Noah to the front door.
“Everything all right?” he asks as he opens it.
I study his face. He was nearly fourteen when I was born, and he’d already met and married Lisa by the time I was in my teens. I can still remember the day Lisa died, and how I’d gone with Mom and Dad to his house in Auckland and watched Dad hug him, my heart breaking as he’d cried into Dad’s shoulder. He’d loved Lisa so much, and yet here he was, loving again. The heart has an amazing capacity to heal and regenerate.
Is it possible it’s in the stars for me to love again?
I push the notion away. I’m not even going there. Opening oneself up to the possibility of love means accepting there’s a chance of being hurt, and I’m not ready for that. I don’t know if I ever will be.
“I’m fine,” I tell Noah. “Your lady is a lovely woman.”
He chuckles. “Yes, she is.”
“And your baby is gorgeous.”
“He is. You need to get yourself one of those, Poppy. You’d make a lovely mom.”
I blink with some surprise, touched by his words. Nobody’s ever said that to me before.
He smiles. “Have a great day.”
“Yes, see you.” I walk out into the sunshine, my hair lifting in the breeze. His words stay with me as I walk back along the path to the Ark. What a lovely thing to say.
I worry a lot about my ability to connect with people, especially after the things Daniel said. I know others see me as odd. When I’ve been with my mother and Summer in waiting rooms and in bus queues, people just start talking to them—they always seem to find something to talk about. But there’s something about me that makes others hold back. If I’m in a waiting room, people will fill all the other seats before they take the one next to me. I guess I must give out signals, although I’m not aware of them. Or maybe I am. I hope someone doesn’t sit next to me because then I would have to make up something to talk about. I prefer being on my own. And then I feel lonely.
I stop and lean on the fence, overlooking the field where a couple of horses graze contentedly. I’m hoping having a child will fill that hole inside me. I don’t want the complications of a relationship, of worrying about pleasing someone else and fearing I’ve said the wrong thing, but I do need love and fulfilment, and I hope a child will provide that.
Is it selfish to want a baby and deny it the presence of a father? Fifty years ago, a huge stigma was attached to single parents, and I’d have been the talk of the town, but it’s no longer like that. There are so many single moms and dads, and lots of people going to sperm banks because they want the same as I do—a child without the complication of a partner. I don’t think I’m unusual. And anyway, what does it matter? I’ve been thinking about it for a long, long time, and the decision feels right.
