The Olive Branch
By S. Faith, © 2014
Words: 8,299
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary, Disclaimer, Notes: See Part 1.
Part 2
Late 2006 - Early 2007
William—or, as it seemed he was destined to be called, Billy—did not want for gifts of clothes or toys, but it seemed that the ones that Daniel brought were the ones the baby liked the best: he snuggled up to the horse, cried when the bizarre Puffle toy was out of his sight. Mark for one appreciated the additional male role model in his son's life; they had taken the boy to meet his grandfather, Bridget's father, and it would turn out to be the one and only time they would meet before Colin's health would decline even more rapidly than expected. He died shortly thereafter.
"It was almost like he was hanging on to say hello to the baby before…" Bridget said tearfully, trailing off before burying her face into Mark's shirt and sobbing. He held her and consoled her best he could. When she then asked if they could stay with her mother to help her sort things out, he could only say yes. To be surrounded by family on such an occasion was a non-negotiable given. He would take whatever time was needed, and could be of valuable assistance handling legal issues, while Bridget could help sort through personal items. They both thought that the baby, little Billy, could serve as a pleasant distraction for Pam Jones, which turned out to be exactly the case.
"My little ray of sunshine," she'd coo to him, rocking him in her arms, a rare smile finding her face.
Daniel made the trip to pay his respects at the memorial service, which touched them deeply. Pam seemed surprised to see one of Bridget's exes turn up, didn't seem to know a thing about Daniel's darker history with Mark, for which he was grateful. His own parents, however, seemed taken aback; he had to assure them that what was past was past, and they were friends once again. He also explained why—the promise made with a child involved—to put their minds at ease, which seemed to work.
Within four months of Colin Jones' passing, a heart attack took Geoffrey Alconbury; instead of Pam and Una wallowing in their grief, however, they both decided to sell their respective houses. In the autumn, they moved into an upscale retirement community called St Oswald's House.
"Don't call it that, though," said Bridget with a grin.
"But that's precisely what it is," Mark replied, confused. "Though with a bistro, a restaurant, a coffee bar, large well-manicured grounds… it sounds amazing. Are you sure we don't qualify to live there?"
"I doubt it," she replied with a chuckle, moving the now seven-month-old from one arm to another. "Not exactly child care facilities on site."
…
April 2007
After such a rollercoaster year, Mark thought that once the baby was a bit older, he could take Bridget out for the evening, perhaps even overnight, away from the house. Just after Billy's first birthday, he proposed this idea to her; she looked aghast.
"Leave the baby overnight? Are you mad?"
Mark couldn't help laughing. "I'm not mad. We have plenty of resources who are perfectly capable of minding him for an evening."
"What about feeding? What if something goes wrong?"
"You have the pump," he said; she shuddered. "You have a mobile phone. We won't go far."
With that, she gave her assent, and he promised to arrange it all so she wouldn't have to worry about it. As it turned out, however, finding someone to watch the baby proved the most difficult thing to get settled. Only one person was available, and he was sure that Bridget would not approve.
"Done and dusted," Mark said casually. "We go away next weekend."
"Weekend?"
"Well, Saturday and Sunday."
"Ah," said Bridget. "To where?"
"A little cottage in Cambridgeshire."
"Oooh!" she said, nearly squealing. But then her enthusiasm faded quickly. "And who's going to watch over Billy?"
He smiled at the use of a nickname they'd never even considered before his birth, given who would be tending to Billy. "Daniel."
"Daniel… who?"
"Cleaver."
She stared, agape. "Are you kidding me?"
"I'm not," said Mark.
"I have grown to love 'Uncle Daniel', Mark, but he has no experience with babies."
Mark laughed lightly. "He promises he has been reading childcare books. Beside—we hardly had any experience with babies, either."
"Speak for yourself," Bridget said with a little smirk—how could he have forgotten about Magda's brood?—before asking, "Does Daniel also promise not to have a girl over?"
"He does, yes."
She pursed her lips; clearly she was warring internally, the desire to remain with her baby against the desire for a much-needed mini-break. At last, she said, "Fine. That's fine. But he should come over Friday night and do a trial run just to make sure he's not going to drop him or give him Fosters to drink or whatever."
Mark smiled. "I think that's fair enough. The least we can do, then, is to give him dinner."
To Mark's delight and Bridget's surprise, Daniel's night of shadowed babysitting was a wild success. Billy seemed to adore his godfather, though Daniel had always been very charming, so this was not a surprise. The shared love for the boy had really helped to strengthen the re-forged friendship between Mark and Daniel, and this evening only served to underline this fact.
Once Daniel had left for the evening, he asked her directly, and her answer, accompanied by a broad smile, was, "Pleasantly surprised."
May 2007
"You. Me. Match of the century."
Mark blinked a few times before he realised who was calling and to what it pertained. Daniel. Clearly about football.
"I have acquired tickets to the match featuring our arch enemies. It will be the defining experience of your lifetime."
"I would beg to differ," Mark said, thinking of the day Billy was born, of his wedding day. "Tickets. How on earth did you get tickets?"
"Deviant sexual favours," Daniel said jauntily in such a way that Mark was not sure if he was kidding, or not. "You're coming," added Daniel. It was not a question so much as a command.
"I'll talk to Bridget," said Mark.
"She wouldn't deny you this," Daniel said confidently.
When Mark asked her later, she only furrowed her brows. "Just you and Daniel?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"And when is it?"
"Two nights from now," he said.
"Well," she said. "You're not making me go, so I'm happy. It'll be a Billy-and-me day. I'm feeling a bit under the weather, anyway."
"You're sure it's all right?"
"Go," she said with a smile. "Have fun. Really."
So go he did; as the evening passed, the years slipped away, and he and Daniel felt like Cambridge boys again. Drinking, carousing, good-natured teasing between the two friends. They even got into a little bit of a scuffle near the end of the match, them against the world, resulting in a scratched chin and a torn shirt collar.
They'd had the time of their lives, indeed, even if Mark's club had not won the match; Daniel hadn't even gloated over his club's win in the pub afterwards.
"I'll give him mine," Daniel said over his bitter, "and you give him yours, and whichever he picks… you'll have to abide."
"As will you," said Mark.
"I have confidence in the lad," Daniel blustered. "Shall we shake on it?" He held out his hand, and the men shook.
When he arrived home he felt euphoric; not even the look of concern on Bridget's face as she wiped something from his face could not deter it.
"I take it that you two had a good evening?" she asked; he nodded. Then she noticed the carrier bag. "What have you there?"
"'S for Billy," he said, slurring a bit. He held up the bag. "Team scarves. Billy gets to pick his team."
Bridget did not need to ask why this was so important. "Ah. And if Billy picks Daniel's?"
"A burden I shall have to bear," he said with a grin. Since Billy was sleeping already, the big choice would have to wait until the next day.
Then Bridget asked, "And what happened to you? A fight?"
"A bit," Mark said.
She pursed her lips.
"It wasn't serious," he added.
"Yes, it's perfectly normal to have your friend beat you up."
"Didn't fight with Daniel," he said.
At this she laughed. "Ah, a bust up with a bunch of strangers is much better."
He'd thought she might be cross or upset at the fact they'd been in a fight, but as the days drew on she would only look at him and smirk, revealing her amusement more than anything. "I was actually worried, there, that you might really have had a fight," she confessed. "That the friendship was off again."
"Nope," he said, smiling in return. He was glad for the renewed, strengthened friendship.
…
"Need a favour."
"Anything."
Mark glanced over to where his wife and son were playing together. "Can you drop by and watch Billy while I take Bridget to the doctor's?"
Daniel did not reply right away. "Everything okay?"
"Yes, fine, just that she's not been feeling well for days, and I'm insisting. But I don't want to bring Billy, too."
"Doctor's offices, foul places. Havens for illness," Daniel quipped. "It's a nice day. I can take him down to the park."
It was a beautiful day, and Billy did seem to love being out of doors. "If you could come over straight away, then…"
"Be there ASAP."
Daniel was as good as his word; Bridget didn't have the time to fret about the impromptu park visit, just helped to pack a bag and got them on their way.
The doctor's visit was an enlightening though utterly baffling one; Mark was still distracted when they returned home to find Billy napping and Daniel sipping a beer.
"Say, what's…" Daniel began. "Everything all right?"
"Yes," he said.
"Mm-hmm," she murmured, clearly also still stunned by the test results.
"I don't like the sound of this," he said, concerned. "Now, come on, tell your old Uncle Daniel."
Mark snapped to attention. "Pregnant," he said. "She's pregnant." As he said it he felt a swell of happiness rush through him. Deep down, he knew she was happy too, but as perplexed as he was.
"I don't understand how this happened," she said, echoing his thoughts.
"Well, Jones, you see, when a man and a woman love each other…" Daniel began as a tease, then smiled.
Her eyes flashed up. "I don't mean to sound like I'm unhappy, because I'm not," she said, then smiled too. "Oh, God. I sound disappointed. I'm not. I'm the opposite of disappointed!" she said. "It's just…"
"I had a feeling," he said. "I'm very pleased for you both."
She went on: "All that difficulty in conceiving Billy… I'm forty-five, for God's sake. It shouldn't have been easier now I'm older."
"This is what happens," said Daniel with a wink, "when you have an unsupervised minibreak all on your own."
Mark looked to her just as she looked to him. They'd had a wonderful (and unrestrained) night reconnecting as a couple the month before; could that really have been when it had happened?
"You and Billy had a good afternoon?" Mark asked abruptly.
"Fantastic," he said. "He was an angel. And the most amazing thing happened."
Thinking Daniel was going to name some first that they had previously not considered, Mark asked, "What?"
"Six phone numbers," he said, "without even trying."
Bridget brought her brows together, looking increasingly annoyed. To head off the impending tirade about using her son to pick up women, Daniel continued.
"I swear it was totally unintentional. I hadn't even thought of it. But there we were, and one by one they came for a chat, and then came the offer…"
Mark couldn't help himself; he smiled, and then he began to laugh. He wasn't sure Daniel really hadn't considered employing Billy in this way, but it amused him all the same.
"Just think," Daniel said. "If the next one's a girl, I'll be set up for life!"
…
Fifty-two.
That's how old he was turning that year, that September, and how old he would be when his second child was born. He had never felt much differently inside than he always had. Until now, until realising he was going to be an old man when his kids were teens. That he was practically an old man already.
"What's wrong with you, Darce?" asked Daniel, for Mark had had the unfortunate luck of having this epiphany while in his friend's company. While drinking a bitter, after a match. So Mark explained.
"But you're not old," Daniel said. "We're not old."
"Daniel, I hate to say it, but we are. Or at least we're getting there."
"Oh, God," said Daniel. "Perish the thought. Girls thinking I'm an old perv… what a fucking depressing thought."
"Promise me something," Mark said; he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol talking, not that he was all that pissed, but the words came tumbling out all the same. "Promise me that you'll look out for them if anything ever happens to me."
Daniel made a dismissive sound. "Nothing's going to happen to you," said Daniel. "Stop being so bloody dramatic."
"Promise."
"I'll promise," said Daniel, "on the condition that you'll stop this nonsense."
Mark smiled, the sudden panic subsiding in an instant. "Nonsense stopped."
"Good," said Daniel. "Drama queen."
Mark laughed.
…
Autumn 2007
The second child was all too noticeable now, protruding quite suddenly, it seemed, from the front of Bridget's cardigan. Billy had taken to sitting beside her with his hand on her abdomen. At eighteen months of age, Billy was old enough to be curious about what was happening with his mum's stomach.
"There's a baby in there," Mark explained. Billy looked on, wide-eyed.
"How?" he asked. Then he looked horrified. "Did Mummy eat a baby?"
At this they both stifled a laugh. "No, darling," said Bridget. "Babies come from mummies. It's the way of things."
Mark had never seen a child look so sceptical in his life.
Mark pointed to the bump in the belly. "In here, right now, is your baby sister."
It was, in fact, a girl; the most recent sonogram showed them as much. "Good," Bridget had joked; "Now we'll have one of each and we can quit."
"Name?" Billy asked.
"We don't know that yet," Mark said.
"She didn't tell you?"
Mark chuckled. "Not yet, no."
They were beyond pleased with Billy's developmental progress, but Mark had, almost as a joke, taken to speaking to his unborn daughter in Greek and Latin. "To give her more of a heads-up," he had explained; she had looked dubious, but did not object to indulging himself in this way.
"Omnis princeps adorat," he said softly to Bridget's belly as she dozed, telling his little girl that everyone adored the princess. "Est genus…" She was kind. "Sapiens…" Wise. "Amabilis…." Lovable.
Bridget stirred. "Wha?" she asked drowsily. "What are you saying? 'A Mabel is' something?"
At this he began to laugh; was his pronunciation that rusty? "No, darling. More Latin," he said. "'Mabel'? How did you get 'Mabel' out of that?"
"I'm sleepy," she said with a pout.
From that point forward, they joked and called the bulge in her tummy 'Mabel', but the more Mark thought about it, he more he loved the idea of honouring his little girl with a name that proclaimed her worthy of love. She may not have been a planned child, but she was a welcome one, all the same.
"I want to call our daughter Mabel," Mark said, on another such night snuggled together on the couch, shortly after Billy had been put to bed.
"In honour of your terrible Latin?" she joked.
"I'm serious," he said. "And it's not terrible."
She leaned to kiss the tip of his nose. "So, then… why?"
"It represents some of the values I hope to see in her," he said. "Lovable. Friendly. Dear… just like her mother." This garnered him a small smile. "Plus, it's unique without being outrageously over the top." He thought of some of the babies in Billy's part-time nursery, parents trying a little too hard to have their child stand out for all the wrong reasons.
"It's really hard to argue with your logic, Mark," she said. "Always has been." She sighed. "I don't know; I'd hoped to go full-on literary. You know, 'Amaranta' or 'Perdita' or…" At his look she allowed her smile to broaden. "Kidding. I love it, and I love the association it brings. Brings to mind you speaking Latin to my gut. Treasured memories."
When they told Daniel of the choice, he joked at first—"What, not Danielle? I'm wounded"—but then agreed it was a very nice name indeed. "The girls I meet at the park will love it."
…
January 2008
"Mark. We need to go now."
He looked up, saw her standing there with her hand on her stomach, and knew instantly what she meant. They'd been through this once before, and knew by the urgency in her voice that this was no dress rehearsal; it was show time.
"Right."
"I've got the bag."
"Right," he said again. "I'll ring up the nursery to let them know about the change in Billy's pickup, then ring up Daniel…"
"Let's actually get to the hospital first," she said, understandably cross, "and you can figure out the details then."
He ended up using the hands-free phone option on the way there. "Daniel."
"Mark."
"She's in labour," he said.
"Ahh," he said. "Need driving?"
"No," Bridget piped in. "On the way."
"Right," said Daniel. "What do you need me to do first? Make calls? Get Billy?"
Daniel of course had already been consulted with regards to Billy and his nursery care, as had the nursery.
"Get Billy," said Bridget, surprising Mark; they had only just done the school run and his morning at the nursery had barely begun. "I want him to be there to meet his little sister, first thing."
"I'll take care of it all," he said. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll make all the calls. I'm your birth PR person. You just do the hard part, Jones."
She chuckled, which segued into what must have been a particularly strong labour pain, and she cried out in agony.
With the hospital just around the corner, Mark said, "Signing off for now. See you later."
He rang off the call just as he pulled round in front of the hospital. From there it was a bit of a blur. Everything certainly moved faster than with Billy's birth, and he didn't spend a moment in the waiting area before he was being led to wash and prep to go into the delivery theatre. "Subsequent children usually come a lot faster than the first," the nurse advised as she tied Mark's protective gown at the back.
"I guess not," he said, feeling utterly wired on adrenalin.
There was the inevitable hand-squeezing and insult-flinging, but not nearly as much as the first time; not four hours passed between the waters breaking and the appearance into the world of tiny little Mabel. He was truly in awe at her perfect little form, the shock of wispy blonde candy floss hair as it began to dry, the set of lungs she exercised as she cried out for the first time. Tears flooded his eyes.
"Meet your daughter, Mr Darcy, Mrs Darcy."
They laid the swaddled infant into her arms for a snuggling bonding moment before being taken to the room. When he emerged from maternity, he found Daniel and Billy sitting there, waiting for word. Mark's smile said enough about how things had gone, but to be clear, he said, "She's here, and she's perfect."
"Fantastic," Daniel said. "Your parents are on the way, and they've got Pam Jones and Una with them. Feel like I jut finished making calls, to be honest."
"Thanks," said Mark, unexpectedly exhausted. "Billy, my boy. Are you ready to meet your sister?"
Billy, just shy of two years old, nodded vehemently. "We can play together!" he said.
"She'll be a bit small for that, yet," Mark said, then reached down to pick him up. "Come on. Mummy and Mabel are waiting."
They entered the room to find Bridget looking exhausted and exhilarated. In her arms in was the baby. As Mark drew near, Billy seemed in awe. "She's so little," he whispered.
"You have to be very gentle, very careful with her," Mark said, putting him down to sit on the edge of the bed. "You were that little once, you know."
Billy gasped; his brown eyes went wide. "No way!"
Mark could only laugh.
"Where does he get that stuff?" Bridget asked wearily as she smiled too.
"I must say, you're two for two on this child-production thing," said Daniel. "Well done."
"Thank you, Daniel," she said.
While Daniel kept an eye on Billy, Mark took his daughter into his arms for the first time. "Hello, my love," he said to her, his vision blurring with his tears of joy as he swept trembling fingers across her soft forehead. "My little princess."
"Can I touch her?" asked Billy; Mark glanced up to see Billy holding a careful forefinger up. "I'll be very careful."
The way in which he imitated his father's speech caused them all to smile. "Come here, sweetheart," said Bridget, holding her arm out. "I'll hold you and we can hold her together."
Billy beamed, then crawled over to sit in the crook of her arm.
"She's more delicate than even the guinea pigs we saw at the pet shop," Bridget said as Mark set the baby down into place with her, with Billy. Gingerly Billy placed his fingers on the tiny hand.
"Wow," he said. "She's called Mabel?"
"Yes, she is," Mark said.
"Hi, Mabel," Billy said sweetly. As he did, Mabel took hold of Billy's finger; Billy's mouth formed a little O. "It's like she knows!"
As Mark looked upon his wife and children, he was all too aware of Daniel looking upon his family as a whole; Daniel looked wistful. It seemed he was about to speak when there was a tap on the door. Daniel looked away, towards the door, as the Darcys, Pam Jones, and Una Alconbury filed in.
Mark met his gaze as he looked away again, though, and he smiled and nodded. He hoped Daniel understood that all bygones were truly bygones; that he would always be the odd uncle in their family unit. By the smile that touched Daniel's lips, Mark realised that he truly did.
The end.