To Love a Way of Life Page 6

  “You’re not even fifty five, Mam! Cut out the old woman business.”

  “I’m happy for you, Emma,” she said. “You deserve a nice life. And once you’re happy I’m happy.”

  “Patrick said the same,” she said.

  “And you’d do well to listen to him.”

  They arrived back to Jenna’s house with a sleeping Anthony in his buggy.

  “How long has he been out?” She asked.

  “Just fifteen minutes, we stopped at the picnic tables and he drew in his new colouring book,” Mary said.

  “Ah, Mary,” she said. “You shouldn’t spend your money on him. He has more toys than he knows what to do with.”

  “My own daughter won’t let me spend money on her, so I have to spend my money on someone’s child.”

  The two women gave each other another knowing look. Emma’s mother was fifty three and Jenna was barely in her twenties, they were separated by an entire generation but they shared something special. Emma knew it was something only a mother could have for her child. She looked down at the toddler in the buggy. He had turned from a little handful that kept her on her guard to a placid little angel just by falling asleep. Emma looked at her mother and Jenna, and saw something in their faces that she knew she wanted for herself.

  ***

  Emma waited for Sandra in Grant’s. It was only a couple of weeks since she had met Patrick here, and Stan of course. Him nuzzling his shiny nose into her. The morning spent with her mother’s encouragement her had tired her out and she wanted a change of pace with Sandra. Emma was most of the way through a double gin and tonic when she arrived.

  “You’re all change now I guess!” Sandra said.

  “Mam was her usual enthusiastic self,” Emma said.

  “She’s trying to help you.”

  “She says she wants me to be happy, but she’s pushy with happiness.”

  “But you do need to push yourself for that,” she said. “You were working nonstop at Desmond, etcetera and you didn’t take time.”

  “I don’t want to fail, I want to be good at what I do.”

  “You are good at what you do, but you have to take time for yourself too,” Sandra said.

  “I’m thinking about kids,” Emma said.

  Sandra paused. Emma knew Sandra had almost had a kid herself. Her boyfriend was ready, she thought she was ready but the pregnancy didn’t work out, and then the relationship didn’t work out. Sandra still wasn’t fully over it but Emma needed to say it.

  “You’ve never talked about kids seriously before,” she said.

  “I know, I’ve thought about them but saying it meant something different.”

  “Maybe Desmond, etcetera laying you off changed your perspective?” Sandra said, it was half question, half statement.

  “I think so. I think I want more from life than accounting.”

  “That’s what you’re mother’s been trying to say to you,” Sandra said. “She may not put it fantastically but you’ve never been happy dedicating your life to only one thing.”

  “I’d have to dedicate my life to a child if I had one,” she said.

  “You won’t dedicate anything to a child, they become part of your life. And it’s not the 70s, you can have a job, and children, and hobbies,” Sandra said. “And nights out with me.” Sandra scooted over to Emma on the couch and put her arm around her. Emma started to feel tears in her eyes.

  “I never thought this would happen,” she said. “I’m not ready for it.”

  “You have been thinking about it, you just said. And it’s accepting it that’s getting you like this. Not that you don’t think you’re capable, or that it’s wrong for you.” Sandra squeezed Emma’s shoulders. “You’ll make a great mother, and you’ll have your work, and you’ll have me, and your mother, and all those other friends you have who aren’t as important as me.”

  Emma laughed, “Can you imagine having this conversation with Amy?”

  “She’d need a Valium,” Sandra said. “But she’d make do with a double vodka and a jaeger bomb.”

  “We’re too old for that,” Emma said.

  “So you’re ready to settle down?” Emma saw the look in Sandra’s eye as she asked that. If she said ‘yes’ to this it would settle the matter for Sandra. She knew how she answered this would determine how Sandra treated her whenever it came up. She knew Sandra would support her no matter what.

  “I am, I think so anyway,” she said. “But Patrick.”

  “You like Patrick,” Sandra said.

  “We’ve only just kissed. I haven’t even seen him with his top off, never mind sex. And to be thinking about a family?”

  “He’s an older man, maybe he’s ready for this?”

  “How do I even bring it up? ‘Hi, we just kissed but do you want to father my child?’”

  “That’s what the next few months are for,” Sandra said. “Try not to think about it constantly, but you keep in the back of your mind that little question, ‘Will he be a father to my child?’”

  “I think that’s what set this off for me,” Emma said. “When we talked over that dinner I kept thinking he’s the type of man I would have wanted for a father.”

  “Jason wasn’t the type of man I wanted to be a father.”

  Emma squeezed Sandra’s knee. She knew it was hard for Sandra to even mention this. She only brought it up when she was really upset, which was so rare. She kept everything on such an even keel.

  “You’ll find him,” Emma said.

  “I know, girl,” Sandra said. “We both will.”

  ***

  Emma packed up her car ready to go in the morning. Her talk with Sandra had set her at ease. She’d try it with Patrick. If it didn’t work out, it didn’t work out. If he wasn’t right for her it’s better to find out sooner rather than later. If the business side of things worked out but the relationship didn’t she’d be mature enough to set things aside for the sake of her clients, and she really believed Patrick could do the same.

  She didn’t know how things stood between them. He hadn’t called or even texted since she left Ballyhane on Sunday. It didn’t bother Emma, but she did realise it was different to all the boyfriends she had had before. Maybe he was different, and maybe that’s why a relationship would work with him. Emma fell asleep thinking of a relationship that meant something; a relationship with Patrick, and a daughter of her own.

  Chapter 6

  As Emma rose she was disgusted by her thoughts from the night before. She couldn’t believe how fantastical her thoughts became of her and Patrick starting a family. She had been imagining rising next to him on a sunny Sunday morning, drinking coffee in their dressing gowns in his kitchen while their daughter painted on the well-worn wooden table. They’d get dressed and they’d all take Stan for a walk to the lake, then have a little picnic.

  Emma had just gotten to know Patrick and she was already imagining them having a child, and family days in the countryside. How ahead of herself could she get? She knew she shouldn’t blame herself for the thoughts that made her feel happy, but what would Patrick think if she told him any of this? She didn’t even know if he wanted kids.

  The car was packed and after breakfast she was ready to go. She decided to push thoughts of families and dressing little girls in pretty sundresses far from her mind so she put on some Iron Maiden in her car. She was singing along as loud as she could with Bruce Dickinson, then almost had to pull over for laughing with the second song on the playlist: “Bring Your Daughter... to the Slaughter.“ It seemed even the Gods of metal were on the side of starting a family, although they were taking a slightly different approach.

  As the city gave way to green fields, and as the main double roads gave way to quiet country roads Emma’s mind relaxed more and more. This would be a beautiful place to raise a child but she would just deal with helping her clients, and getting to know and maybe even love Patrick first.

  She parked up in the village before she got to Patrick�
��s lane. She went into the small shop, and took three ice-creams from the freezer, one for her, one for Patrick and one for Stan. The one for Stan had no chocolate and she knew he’d be disappointed by that. He’d get over only having a vanilla ice-cream pretty quickly, the look of his goofy slobbering face devouring the ice-cream brought a smile to Emma’s lips.

  She walked up to the till, five Euros in her hand ready to pay.

  “You must be Emma,” the woman said. She was young, she looked like she was in the final year of school or maybe just after starting university. Emma figured it was a summer job.

  “I am.” Emma smiled.

  “Patrick’s been in a foul mood since you left. He must really miss you.” Emma thought she could detect a hint of jealousy in the girl’s voice. If the young women of Ballyhane thought Patrick was a catch then Emma knew she was onto a good thing.

  “I’m sure an ice-cream will cheer him up,” Emma said.

  “Is the third for Stan?” She asked.

  “Yeah, does he like plain vanilla?”

  “That dog will eat anything, I’ve treated him twice over getting the gawks from eating so much.”

  “You’ve looked after Stan?” Emma asked.

  “I’ve interned with the vet for three summers. I want to work with smaller animals but it’s mostly farm animals around here.”

  “You might have to move to a city,” Emma said.

  “Having a choice of takeaways that deliver is my dream,” she said. “Pizza, burgers and chips, Thai, Indian, Noodles, Japanese—“

  “I have wondered about that.”

  “Only the Chinese delivers, we have a menu. I think they’ll go as far as Patrick’s, and a tip will get them further.”

  Emma handed over the money. The ice-creams came to €3.38.

  “Keep the change,” Emma said. “Put it towards a night out when you’re in college.”

  “Thanks!” The young woman beamed. Emma knew what it was like to be a broke student. She might not have earned anything in months, but only being able to afford crackers and noodles after a night out was not a nice way to live for anyone, even students.

  Emma rested the ice-creams down on her passenger seat and drove up the roadway to Patrick’s house. There was no sign of him at the door but Stan greeted her. He must have sniffed the ice-cream.

  Emma called out to Patrick but there was no-sign of him. She unwrapped the two ice-creams and set one on the ground for Stan. He bit into it. She worried he’d get brain freeze but he seemed happy enough.

  Emma sat on a barrel and kicked her legs, she was happy to back in the countryside. Patrick emerged from the house, his face was grave and serious but when he saw Emma his downturned look broke into a wide smile. He was so cautious with his moods Emma got a kick in her stomach from seeing him smile.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said as he walked over to her. He held her elbow and before Emma had a chance to get a word out he kissed her on the lips. Not a passionate embrace, but the kiss of a man who cared for a woman, not just desired her.

  “I’ve missed you too,” Emma said.

  “I see Stan ate my ice-cream.”

  “And he loved it,” she said. “We’ll have to take him on a longer walk this evening.”

  Emma pulled the third ice-cream from behind her back. “I presume a Cornetto is to your taste?”

  “My favourite,” he said. “Although I sometimes like a mint-choc Cornetto too.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Patrick sat up on the barrel next to Emma as she scooted over. He put his arm around her as he happily bit away on the ice-cream cone.

  “You’d nearly get used to this, wouldn’t you?”

  “I can’t believe it’s real,” Emma said. “It’s so perfect out here.”

  “It’s not all perfect,” Patrick said. She could see his face take on a darker tone for just a moment.

  “What’s wrong?” She asked.

  “Nothing, just some trivial things causing problems. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  Emma had her doubts.

  “Nothing I should worry about either,” he said.

  “I’m a good listener if you want to talk?” Emma said. “And far less pushy than my mother.”

  “I think we turn out more like our parents than we realise.”

  “God, I hope not,” she shuddered at the thought of forcing everyone to have fun like her mother. Sometimes people needed to wallow in their misery for a while. It was cathartic.

  “You never knew your father, did you?” Patrick asked.

  “No. And I wouldn’t have wanted to. My mother was as good as two parents.”

  “And you don’t want to turn out like her,” he said.

  “I’d like my children to have a father.”

  Patrick stayed quiet, and that look of gloom took over his face again, for longer this time.

  “Well, I have to father all these incompetent farmers,” he said.

  Emma noticed the change of subject, she guessed it wasn’t the right time to talk about family. She hoped she hadn’t scared him and silently cursed herself for mentioning it.

  They were just getting to know each other as a couple, and it was too soon. She’d have to try and stop herself. Her thoughts turned to Sandra’s advice, she’d keep the father question at the back of her mind but not dwell on it. She wasn’t sure if she could keep it away from her thoughts.

  “Is that’s what’s been bothering you?” She asked.

  “I wanted to know if you’d be willing to do something.”

  “Of course, anything.”

  “It’ll mean less money for you, but it would help a lot of people.”

  “I saw you transferred the money from Daniel and Peter into my account this morning. I could live on that for a week, frugally but I’d have everything I need.”

  “There’s plenty more work, but this could cut down on it. I was hoping you’d give a class on basic accounting practices, bookkeeping that kind of thing.”

  “Absolutely. It would be great for me as well. I do accounts, they don’t need me for basic incomings and outgoings. They should be doing that themselves.”

  “I knew you’d agree,” he said.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Well, that’s why I’ve already reserved the back room in the pub for Saturday week,” he said. “We can rearrange if you want to go back to the city for that weekend.”

  “That’s not a problem, I said I’d see my mother but I can see her the weekend after. I know I’m booked up for a while”

  “Why don’t you invite her down?”

  “Are you serious?” Emma asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I be? The bedroom in the other cottage is ready, and it has electricity, just not running water.”

  “You want to meet my mother?”

  “I want you to show your mother you’re cared for down here,” he said. “I wouldn’t want any mother to worry about the safety of her daughter!” He stuck his head into her neck and went at her, play-acting at a man ready to ravish a helpless heroine.

  “You’re serious aren’t you?”

  “Don’t tell me she’s not worried, I would be.”

  “My mother is delighted to see me gone! She thinks this is the best thing to happen to me in years.”

  “Do you think it’s the best thing to happen to you in years?” He asked.

  “It’s certainly in the positive column,” she said. “What about you?”

  “I’d have to think,” he said as he rolled his head around. This was a playful side Emma hadn’t seen in Patrick too often. She was glad to see it. From the looks she had seen on his face she figured he needed to blow off steam. Especially if that girl in the shop was right about him being tense the past few days.

  “The shop in town, who’s the girl who works there?”

  “The supermarket or the shop?”

  “The little shop, she’s training to be a vet.”

  “Oh, that’s Ais, or ‘Aisling
’ now she’s in college in the big city.”

  “She said you’ve been grumpy the past few days.”

  “She’s just jealous of you,” he said. “She’s had a thing for me since I arrived.”

  “And you didn’t indulge her?”

  “I may have felt good that despite being in my mid-thirties—“

  “Late thirties.” Emma said.

  “Ok, in my thirties; that I can still attract the attention of young women.”

  “You have my attention.”

  “And I count my blessings every day that I do.”

  As Stan licked every last speck of ice-cream from the wrappers in the flower pot Emma felt the heat rise between her and Patrick. He kissed her again, not a welcome back kiss, there was passion this time. He pushed her hair behind her ear and let her know that he was for her.

  “I missed you,” he said as their kiss ended. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  Chapter 7

  Patrick gave Emma instructions to get to Mrs. Reidy’s house. She was an artisanal food producer, mainly specialising in anything to do with chili peppers, spices and relishes. She didn’t feel the need for Patrick’s help until very recently when she had been approached by a high-end retailer for her products. She would be in a few shops, only one branded store but they were global, in three cities in Ireland, London, Edinburgh, Manchester, a few American cities and Paris. They were a big deal when it came to high quality food.

  The only words of advice Patrick gave to Emma was, “Mrs. Reidy is always called Mrs. Reidy, and she has a few notions.” It had been a long time since Emma had dealt with a woman who had notions about herself, she pictured the woman as having a perfect garden and a well worked nose for sniffing out gossip, not that Mrs. Reidy would ever admit to indulging in gossip.

  When she drove up to the picturesque house she knew she had been correct about Mrs. Reidy’s garden. She parked and knocked at the front door and a man in his sixties answered. He wore slippers and corduroy pants and he looked tired. He didn’t say a word to Emma but just waved her in. He pointed to a room and walked away in silence. Emma waited for a few seconds and then she heard a television having its volume turned up. She figured she’d better sit, and wait.