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What on earth am I going to say to her?
My instinct is to say no. But I’m ashamed to admit I am tempted, and the reason is actually nothing to do with Poppy. The reason is that I need the money, and Poppy is offering to pay me for a service that, as Albie said, isn’t a huge task for me. It would make her happy. So why am I balking?
I suppose it’s the weird notion of fathering a child in secret. I presume she wouldn’t want to tell either the child or everyone else here who the father was. I shouldn’t have told Albie. I’ll have to have a word with him to keep his mouth shut.
If I say no, she may well go ahead via a sperm bank if she’s desperate for a child, and it appears she is to even be considering the option.
I don’t want her to get pregnant by another man.
The realization is somewhat startling. I’d rather make her happy by helping her to get pregnant than let her go through it all alone, using some stranger’s sperm.
Wow. What a bizarre eureka moment. I never thought when I woke up this morning that I’d be thinking about fathering a child.
The thought fills me with a strange warmth. Before my father died, my childhood was run-of-the-mill, neither good nor bad, although that all changed after Dad died when I was fifteen. Mom’s alcoholism and unhappiness meant my late teens were difficult, and I was glad to get away. The Army provided the security and stability I’d missed, until it was ripped away from me by the accident. My relationships have all ended somewhat disastrously, especially the last one. Sometimes, I’ve thought it’s unlikely I’ll ever settle down and have a family. So the thought of getting Poppy pregnant is strangely appealing.
The thing is, I don’t just want to father her children. I want to do more than physically inseminate her. I want the whole kit and caboodle. I want her.
I stare off across the fields. You might have to be inventive…
What if there was a way to help her out, and get what I want? She likes me. She must do. Her compliments proved that. And anyway, she wouldn’t ask a man she has no feelings for to father her child, surely.
You’re an excellent physical specimen. You’re tall and good looking. You’re strong and you seem healthy. You’re intelligent, kind, honest, and loyal.
I doodle on a notepad. I’ve spent most of this year chasing her, trying to get her to go out with me. What the hell. Do I really have to think this hard about it?
As a plan begins to formulate in my mind, I pull up a browser on my computer, and start doing some research.
Chapter Three
Poppy
It’s a long afternoon with two difficult classes of children who are poorly controlled by their young teachers, and who, as a consequence, run amok amongst the animals. I don’t like to take over from the teachers, even if I think I could do better, because I know teaching is a really hard job, and undermining someone else is the worst thing you can do for their self-respect. But when the noise level frightens a couple of the new puppies, I end up losing my temper and taking half a dozen of the badly behaved kids out of the farm and into the office, where I give them a solid talking to about respect. I make two of them cry, and feel a swathe of guilt, until their teacher comes up afterward and shakes my hand.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. She’s very young, barely out of teacher-training college. “They’re just such a handful.”
“Don’t worry,” I say awkwardly, “you’ll soon find your feet.”
I still feel bad, though, because I know most of my irritation is due to what happened with Marc earlier. After the buses depart, I sit in my office, somewhat dispirited. I had anticipated that he might be angry by my suggestion, but not that it would manifest in the way it had. He hadn’t seemed offended; if anything, he’d seemed flattered I’d asked. But I know the way I offered money was wrong. And clearly, he’s angry toward Daniel for the way he treated me, and he doesn’t know the half of it.
I sigh and get up to sort out the animals. They have a last feed and a fuss before I bed them down for the night, and finally lock up around six thirty. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. Sandra is doing the early shift tomorrow, and will arrive at six a.m., so I think I’ll have a couple of glasses of wine and maybe a takeout while I watch a movie, then go to bed early, and have a lie-in tomorrow.
