Joan Kilby - The Second Promise

“Who’s that?” Ida asked.

“Huh? Oh, that’s Maeve. She’s a landscape gardener, and the daughter of my foreman at the factory. She’s got some sensational ideas for the garden.”

“She’s lovely. If you’re looking to settle down, you don’t need to look farther than your own backyard.”

“I asked her out and she refused,” Will said with a frown. “No reason. Just refused.”

“Maybe she was having a bad day.”

“Maybe.”

Maeve disappeared behind the Monterey Bay fig, and Will turned back to Ida. “I understand your wanting a child, but do you really have to do it on your own?”

Ida’s chin lifted. “What’s wrong with that?”

Will shoved both hands through his hair. “For starters, a child needs a mother and a father. I realize it doesn’t always work out that way and I’d never judge anyone whose marriage breaks up, but, damn it, you have to try.”

Ida leaned forward, her hazel eyes shimmering. “I have tried, Will. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past fifteen years—playing hard to get?”

“But think of the child. It’s not fair to deliberately deprive a kid of having a father.” No one understood better than he what growing up without a father was like.

Ida’s mouth pulled tight. “Life isn’t fair. Is it fair for me to remain childless when I want so badly to have a baby?”

“No, but…”

She got up and strode across the deck to lean against the post, arms tightly crossed. “I was hoping for your moral support. If that’s not possible, at least spare me your condemnation.”

Will rose and put his arms around her, and felt her lean into him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t try to talk you out of this crazy idea.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her wet cheeks with the heel of her hand. “My emotions are all over the place lately. I know what I want is selfish, but I’m feeling desperate. I hate that. It’s so pathetic.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Will said soothingly, and stroked her back. “You’re not selfish or pathetic. It’s just that you deserve more. Your baby deserves more. I thought you were waiting for Mr. Right to come along.”

She managed a ragged laugh. “Mr. Right must have taken a wrong turn. Or maybe he saw me first. I’ve given up, Will. I’ve tried so hard for so long. Plastic surgery can only do so much. My appearance is as good as it’s ever going to get. The only dates I’ve had since my accident have been with friends or co-workers who feel sorry for me.”

“And Rick,” he reminded her. “But I don’t believe he or anyone else went out with you because they felt sorry for you.”

With an impatient sigh, she pushed away from Will and paced back to her seat. “I thought Rick was different, yet when his time was up here in Melbourne, he just left.”

“Have you heard from him at all?”

“He phoned once, but I could tell it was just a duty call. I’m not prepared to wait around any longer on the off chance I might meet someone else. If I’m going to have a child, I want it to be soon.”

Will was silent a moment, struggling to accept what she was saying. He came back to his seat, prepared to be a help, not a hindrance. “Okay, you’re serious. Let’s take it from there. What about the father? Who will it be? Are you planning to tell him?”

“I don’t have an arrangement with anyone yet.” She gazed down at her hands with an oddly shy smile. “Although I do have a candidate in mind.”

Will relaxed a little and leaned back against his chair. At least, she wasn’t planning on a series of one-night stands with anonymous lovers.

“And, of course, I’ll tell him,” Ida went on. “It wouldn’t be fair not to. He could have as much or as little contact as he wished. My only stipulation would be that if he opted to take on the fatherhood thing, he be prepared to stick with it. For the child’s sake.”

“I hope whoever you’re thinking of is good enough for you. He’d have to be a pretty special guy.”

Ida glanced up at him. “Oh, he’s special, all right.”

Will gazed at her determined, tear-stained face.

She gazed right back at him.

Light dawned. “You mean me?”

“Would you? I hate the idea of using a sperm bank and having a complete stranger father my baby.”

“I—I’m incredibly flattered. I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think.”

“You don’t have to make up your mind right away. I know it’s a lot to spring on someone. But would you at least contemplate it? Please?”

His gut reaction was to decline, but for Ida he would consider the proposal. “Sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” She checked her watch and sighed. “I’d better go. I’ve got so much work to catch up on.”

Will walked her out to her car. Ida opened her door and paused to search his face worriedly. “Will, whatever you decide it’s okay. I don’t want anything to hurt our friendship.”

“Nothing will hurt our friendship.” He still felt a little stunned as he leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips. He wanted to be a father, but this wasn’t the way he’d expected it to happen. What was the point of having children if you weren’t part of a family?

MAEVE CLOSED her clipboard and wandered back to the patio. Her plan wasn’t as complete as she would have liked. But then, she didn’t feel she knew everything she needed to about Will. Sometimes she just had to start with the barest of an idea, and elaborate as she got to know her characters, the way a writer might.

She spread the sheets of graph paper with her roughed-in design on the table and waited for Will to return from seeing his friend—girlfriend?—out. He came through the sliding doors looking as though he’d been hit hard over the head and was still seeing stars. “Everything all right?” she asked.

“Huh?” He gave his head a little shake. “Yes. Fine. Are you finished taking measurements?”

Maeve indicated the graph paper. “See what you think.”

Will turned the paper sideways to read her tiny writing. “It’s all Greek to me.”

“Latin, actually,” Maeve said. “Sorry if it’s confusing, but using the species names of plants is second nature.”

“Where did you study?”

“Melbourne University. I have a PhD in botany.”

Will’s eyebrows disappeared upward into a lock of sun-streaked chestnut hair. “I would have thought you’d be teaching or doing research, with a degree like that.”

Maeve shrugged. “I experiment in situ in my own modest way, but I prefer growing plants to studying them, especially when I have the go-ahead to do my own thing. Which is really your thing, of course. You can get back to me on the estimate, if you like. My phone number’s on the letterhead, or you can e-mail me.”

“When would you be able to start?” he asked.

She thought for a moment. “I’m booked solid for the next two weeks, but I’ll try to rearrange some of my less-urgent jobs. I could get back here on Monday to take out that tree by the bungalow.”

“I appreciate your rearranging work for me.”

She knew he wouldn’t understand if she told him his garden was already growing inside her mind. “You…you’ve been so good to my father.”

“Nothing he didn’t earn.” For some reason Will’s mouth flattened and a frown line appeared between his eyes. He went into the house and returned a moment later carrying a checkbook. “You’ll be needing money for materials, I presume?”

Maeve handed him the second piece of paper from her clipboard. “Half of that will be enough to get me going. Labor costs are charged at an hourly rate.”