The Best is Yet to Come
Part 2 of 5
By S. Faith, © 2009
Words: 20,448 (Part 2: 4,030)
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary, Disclaimer, Notes: See Part 1.
He blinked rapidly in his obvious bewilderment.
"I don't know how it could have happened," she said, though even as she said it she technically knew exactly how it had happened. Once the news was out in the open she couldn't stop talking, yet she could not gauge how he felt about it; she was not quite sure yet how she herself felt about it. "With the stuff I take and, um, my age, I don't really understand—"
She stopped talking because he had pulled her to him in a very tight hug. "Bridget," he said softly, his voice muffled by her hair.
From his reaction, from the single word he'd said, she still had no idea what he was thinking. The more she considered it, the more terrified—and excited—she became. Having a child together was just not something that had entered into her head as even the remotest of possibilities, and now, faced with the reality, she found she rather liked the idea. A lot.
Sure he had never himself considered it, either; she only hoped he felt the same.
"Mark?" she said tentatively, close to his ear. "Say something, please."
He pulled back to meet her gaze. She thought he looked happy, but sometimes it was very hard to tell with him, even still. "Sorry," he said at last. "I was just thinking." She didn't have the heart to ask him what about. He continued unprompted. "Which name I might like best if it's a boy."
She sputtered a laugh in her pleased surprise, reaching out to throw her arms about him. "Hoping you would be happy," she managed as tears started to flow.
"Glad you are too," he said, his arms coming up around her again, letting out a huge breath. "Though I can't help but remember how hard this is," he said gently, "at least this time I know I won't be doing it all on my own." He raised his hand to stroke her hair down before pulling back to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. She smiled.
A sound from the side of them reminded her that they were in fact still in the doctor's examination room. "Sorry to interrupt this happy moment," said the nurse, "but we have another patient to see."
Bridget giggled. "Oh, crikey, I suppose we ought to go."
He stood up then pulled her to her feet. On their way out they scheduled a more in-depth follow-up pregnancy visit for after their return, but Bridget hardly remembered the details for the sudden wave of baby-related thoughts she was having. Did she want to announce this prior to departing for their week-long honeymoon? What would her friends think? Even more importantly, what would Ella think? Would she resent the sudden appearance in her life of another child?
They got to the car before anything more was said.
"I think we should wait," said Mark, seemingly picking up on her thoughts as he put the key into the ignition. "We want to have a week to ourselves, and we'll have no peace if word gets out."
"What about Ella?"
The concern of her previous thoughts must have seeped into her tone, because Mark looked to her. "Darling, please don't worry about her. She's always wanted a younger brother or sister. When she finds out she'll be over the moon."
It relieved her to hear him say it. "I'm glad for that," she said, "but I meant telling her before we go."
He laughed at the misunderstanding. "Do you really think she could keep that secret?"
She chuckled. "No, I don't suppose she could."
The plan had been to leave the bridal suite they'd taken for the wedding night itself, stop home and get their things for more extended travel to Derbyshire, stop by the Shazzer's flat to say goodbye to Ella before driving up to their cottage. She knew they would both have to wipe the huge grins off of their faces lest suspicions be raised.
"We'll have to say it was just gastritis," said Mark wisely.
She nodded. With that, he started the car and pulled away from the kerb to off to the house.
………
"Didn't think it would be old home week," said Bridget upon arriving to Sharon's flat—which used to be her old flat—to find that Jude and Tom were also there, and they were eating lunch around the coffee table in the living room, the adults on the sofa and Ella on the floor. They were partaking in pizza with all the toppings and Sharon's favourite Chardonnay. Usually Bridget would have been salivating, but the smell of the pizza actually made her a little queasy. "Little early for wine, isn't it?" she quipped to get her mind off of it.
"Shut up," said Jude as she lowered her glass. "I'm enjoying my last afternoon of freedom before heading back."
Realising that her friends would go so far away again to their respective homes made Bridget feel a little overly emotional, and she felt her eyes get misty.
"Have some," said Shaz, "to take the edge off of your passengerial duties up to the country."
"No," said Mark quickly, a huge smile on his face. "She can't." Bridget felt panicked; never mind the grin, they all knew that Mark always drove. Possibly at his wife's reaction, he added quickly, "In case she has to take the wheel."
Suspicions had not apparently been raised.
Also to her relief she saw that the three of them had not actually set wine down in front of Ella, who now asked, "All's well at the doctor's then?"
Bridget nodded.
"Gastritis," offered Mark with another smirk he was fighting to suppress—and losing the fight.
"Gastritis?" asked Ella, raising a brow, pizza poised before her mouth in order to take another bite and like any teenager, she chewed and swallowed far too quickly.
"Yes, yes," said Bridget, perhaps a little too vehemently. "Stomach upset."
"I know what gastritis is," said Ella, looking from Bridget to her father. "You just look a bit too hap—" As she stopped speaking midsentence, as her features changed, Bridget knew that Ella knew, or at least suspected. She set down her half-eaten pizza and scrambled to her feet. "Oh my God!"
Bridget looked over to Mark, who looked appropriately chastened.
"What?" asked Sharon, Tom and Jude in unison.
"No wine? All smiles at a diagnosis of gastritis? Throwing up?" she asked triumphantly. "Come on. I'm not dumb."
"Apparently I am," said Shaz peevishly, "because I have no—" She also stopped short, and paled a bit. "Bridget. It wasn't nerves at all yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that, was it?"
There was no getting around the escalating inquisition. "I guess it wasn't," she said meekly. Ella threw one arm around her and the other around her father simultaneously.
Shaz covered her mouth with her hands to stifle the shriek. Jude had also twigged and muttered in open-mouthed surprise, "No way. No way!"
Bridget smiled and felt her expression slide into something approaching sheepish.
"Well. When I said twenty years younger," said Tom smoothly, "I guess that wasn't an exaggeration." The three friends rose and waited for Ella to release her grip on the two of them before offering their own hugs and congratulations.
"Wow," said Ella, still clearly dumbfounded. "I can't believe it."
"You can't believe it?" said Bridget as she and Mark were herded to sit on the sofa. "Could you get the pizza out of here?" she asked Shaz. "Stomach."
"Must be an alien life form," said Sharon as she obliged, "for Bridget to be pushing pizza further away from her." Mark chuckled.
"You really had no idea?" said Jude.
"Not a one," admitted Bridget. "After all, the pill I take—was taking—for the hormone wonkiness is after all a… well, is supposed to… you know." The longer she spoke, the less she wanted to actually say 'birth control pill' in front of Ella.
"Determined little bugger," said Tom.
"Maybe the dose was too low," offered Mark with another smile. She turned and playfully punched his upper arm.
"I was going to ask you how your evening went," said Jude, "but this kind of takes precedence, far and away."
"The evening was in fact wonderful," began Bridget, then decided once more to censor herself in front of his daughter. "As for this—" She patted her abdomen. "—you know pretty much what we do."
"How far along?"
Bridget shrugged. "They weren't able to tell me exactly, but with the nausea and…" She bit her tongue a third time; she didn't want to talk about being irregular and missing cycles in front of Ella. "Well, I'd say at least a month."
Ella's face lit anew. "Wait 'til Granny finds out!"
She looked to Mark again. There was no way Ella was going to be able to keep quiet, and they both knew it. "El," said Mark, "would you like to be the one to tell her?"
"OhmyGodyes!" she said in a rush, rising from her perch on the arm of the chair and dashing for her little handbag, presumably for her mobile.
"Sweetheart," said Mark. "I didn't mean this very moment."
"Oh, let her do it," said Bridget quietly. "She won't be able to contain herself otherwise."
With a gleeful grin she punched the buttons on her phone, and looked like she might burst with excitement until her grandmother picked up. "Granny!" she exclaimed. "You're never gonna guess the news!"
"For God's sake," Mark chided gently. "Don't give her a coronary or anything."
"It's Bridget!" said Ella, seemingly ignoring her father. "She's gonna have a baby!" The five of them all watched as the girl's features, so animated and excited, slowly returned to their normal state, then go a little glum. "Yeah," she said flatly, evidently in response to something her grandmother said. "They're right here. Hold on." Ella looked to her father and held out her phone to him. "She wants to speak to you."
Bridget's stomach fell to her feet, sure that for whatever reason Elaine Darcy hated the idea.
"Hello, Mother," said Mark, his eyes meeting his wife's and taking her hand with his free one. "Yes," he continued. "Yes, it is true." There was a silence and finally she saw him start to smile. "Of course. I'll put her on." He then passed the mobile to her. Ella was saying something in the background but Bridget's heart was pounding too loudly to hear.
"Hello, Elaine," said Bridget in a more timid tone than she intended.
"Bridget, my dear," she said brightly, dispelling Bridget's terror. "Congratulations. What wonderful news! You must be so surprised."
"I am," she said, then amended, "I was."
"I'll be honest," said Elaine; "I thought that granddaughter of mine was kidding."
She suddenly understood Ella's reaction; Elaine had clearly given her a stern word about making up stories. She grinned, even laughed a little, cradling the phone with her hand as she looked to Mark. "Yes, it's rather hard to believe."
"What a way to start off a marriage with a bang," Elaine said in all good humour. "The two of you will be wonderful though, and I'm sure you'll have lots of help."
"Yes," Bridget said, suddenly imagining a legion of nannies.
"You'll need it," she continued. "It's worth every moment, but so much work when the baby's small. It's draining enough when you're a young parent, but being an older one…" Elaine drifted off. "But no matter. Wait until Malcolm hears. He'll be thrilled."
"Please send our love," she said automatically, her mind turning over what Elaine had said about being older parents. "We're off to Derbyshire."
"Have a wonderful time on your honeymoon," said Elaine. "Make sure Mark treats you like a queen."
"He always does," she said, her spirits a bit restored, but she was a tiny bit troubled all the same. "I'm sure we'll see you when we return."
With that they said their goodbyes and Bridget disconnected the call, handing the phone back to Ella, who looked smug yet a bit offended.
"Can you believe she thought I was making that up?" Ella snorted.
"It is a little unbelievable," said Jude, grinning.
With that they rose to make their exit, hugs and kisses all around, and an extra long hug for Jude and Tom, whom she would not see again before they returned to their respective abodes. "I wish you lived closer," said Bridget sadly to her far-flung friends.
"I can still be a bad influence from afar," declared Tom with a cheeky grin.
Mark saved hugging his daughter for last. "Behave yourself," he said gently.
"I will," she replied.
"Yeah, usually she's hell on wheels," said Sharon, with a wink.
………
"Bridget."
It was Mark's voice penetrating her fugue state, one she'd fallen into since they'd taken off on the drive to Derbyshire. Her brain had been in overdrive, thinking about the ramifications of being parents later in life; would she have the strength or the energy to do it? What if Mark really had had his fill of parenting with Ella, marrying Bridget with the intent never to do so again, and for her sake was keeping up the appearance of a proud papa?
"Yes?" she asked, snapping out of it at last.
"What did she say to you?"
"Who?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
"My mother," he said, glancing momentarily at her. "You've been in a trance since you talked to her."
"She didn't say anything," Bridget fibbed.
He did not reply immediately; he was clearly considering changing tack. "Tell me what her exact words to you were."
She realised he was not going to let this go. "That she was happy for us, that we would be great parents, that she knew we would have lots of help," she began, then hesitated before continuing, "because parenting was exhausting enough for young parents, let alone older ones."
She saw his jaw firm up.
"I'm sure she meant nothing by it," Bridget added quickly.
"But that hasn't stopped you from obsessing about it," he said quietly.
"A bit," she said.
That at least made him smile.
Swallowing hard, she decided the best route would be the direct one. Watching him scrupulously, she asked, "You'd tell me if this wasn't something you really wanted to get into again, wouldn't you?"
"Bridget," he said after a moment of silent contemplation, "if there was one woman in existence with whom I wanted to bring life into the world, she'd be you. That it happened to be later rather than sooner is of very little consequence to me."
Her eyes went misty. "If you weren't driving," she said, "I'd kiss you senseless."
At that he chuckled and stretched his hand out towards hers to claim it. "And yes," he said, "I do intend on taking full advantage of hired help."
The rest of the drive to the country cottage was pleasant and uneventful; as with any drive of significant length (such as trips to Grafton Underwood), her drifting off to sleep was something that never bothered him, and it was engine being disengaged that jarred her awake. She looked around to find him taking the keys from the ignition then turning to her with a smile. "Was just about to wake you," he said. "We're here."
"I gathered."
"Wait here. I'll check us in."
He went into the main building while she waited in the car, then returned and drove them to their cottage. It was cosy and surrounded by huge shade trees, which helped to seclude it even further from neighbouring cottages. It was absolutely beautiful and totally romantic. She smiled and very much looked forward to their week together in such seclusion.
He opened her door and as she rose to her feet, he swooped her up in his arms to carry her through the open door and over the waiting threshold. "Mark," she said, helpless with laughter. "You did this bit last night at the hotel."
"Your point?" he asked, kissing her, then walking into the cabin with her.
………
The evening was absolute perfection; a delicious candlelit dinner, soft music and a light dessert before retiring to the luxurious king-sized bed for a long evening together of tender intimacy. Curled up warmly and securely in his arms, with the moonlight making the curtains glow, with his chest rising and falling beneath her in slow and steady breaths, she felt completely and utterly blissful.
…Until her mind sabotaged her with thoughts of what it might be like to be an older mum: meeting the other mums at school and being old enough to be their mum, too; seeing their child graduate from university and needing to be assisted to the graduation ceremony; living long enough to see possible grandchildren.
"What's wrong?" murmured Mark, startling her a little because she thought he'd fallen asleep. Somehow, he knew. She wondered how, until he went on: "You just went all tense on me."
"Just my brain churning up senseless thoughts," she said. "Nothing to worry about."
"What do I have to do to banish such thoughts?" he asked.
She managed a light laugh. "Promise me we'll get no older," she said half in jest, "or possibly that we'll live forever."
He shifted to pull her up closer to him, lavishing her with long, languorous kisses, his hands firm on her bare back.
"Mmm," she said as he nuzzled tenderly into her neck. "That'll do, too."
………
Lovely as the stay was, at the conclusion of the week they set out to return to London and to the reality of life, which meant getting Ella (assuredly still hyperactive at the thought of a younger sibling), returning to work, and beginning to make all of the plans that one must make in preparation of an impending bundle of joy.
Ella had her own ideas for names, announcing over breakfast one morning shortly after the return from the honeymoon: "I love Granddad, but please don't name him Malcolm if he's a boy. Malcolm is not a baby's name."
Bridget pursed her lips to suppress a smile.
Very seriously, Mark asked, "Do you not think that your grandfather was a baby once?"
"Well, yeah," she said, digging into her bowl of cereal, "but that was, like, an age ago when kids wore breeches and caps and stuff."
"And rolled barrel rings with sticks?" asked Mark.
"Exactly."
Bridget had to bite down on her lower lip to stop from laughing out loud.
"El, what do you think about—" He paused to glance over to Bridget. "—Colin for a boy?"
A wave of emotion washed over her as she watched Ella think about her answer. "Mm, yeah. That'd be cool."
"Doesn't conjure up visions of newspaper boys wearing hound's-tooth and calling out 'Read all about it!'?"
She giggled. "No."
"I'm not sure I could take naming my daughter Pamela, though," Bridget said. "It would seem like some kind of vicious circle—thoughts of her shouting at me whilst I'm shouting at her."
Mark chuckled and agreed. Ella looked perplexed.
"That was my mother's name."
"Oh," she said. "I'm sorry I never got to meet 'em. I'd've liked to have another set of grandparents."
"What about—" she began, then stopped at Mark shaking his head, and she understood: go no further—I'll explain later. "They would have liked you a lot, my mum and dad," Bridget said instead.
"Oh," she said. "Colin was your dad."
"Yeah," she said. "You'd've really liked him, and my mum… she'd've made you mental."
She saw Mark smiling wistfully.
"Then I think it's settled," pronounced Ella. "For a boy, anyway. Hm. Unless you want a Mark junior, Dad."
"No," he said quickly. "The duplicate Elaines are confusing enough." He regarded his daughter thoughtfully. "So you're quite sure on that name?"
"Yup," she replied.
"Just as long as we've got your approval."
She threw him a dirty look. "Now you're just teasing me."
"Yes," said Mark, "and now I'm telling you to go get ready for school."
She hopped up. "Remember, I'm going to Betsy's after."
"You're what? Since when?" Mark was completely caught off guard.
Feeling foolish, Bridget said, "She told me about that the other day, Mark, and I didn't any reason why she couldn't. I'm sorry—I meant to tell you."
He looked to Bridget; his expression was very difficult to read. "No, that's fine," he said. "She's going be sixteen in just a couple of months. She's not a child anymore—sometimes I just forget that."
"So, it's okay?" Ella. Bridget had almost forgotten she was standing there.
"Yes, of course it's okay," said Mark, looking more like himself. "Betsy's a good kid. I like her."
"So do I," said Bridget.
"Awesome. Thanks again." With that she bounded up the stairs to the main floor of the house.
Bridget brought her decaffeinated coffee to her lips and sipped, her eyes not leaving Mark. He still had a rather distant expression. "Is everything okay?" she asked.
His focus sharpened as he turned his gaze to her. "What? Yes, of course everything's okay," he said.
She didn't want to be a nag, but she recognised discontent when she saw it. "Are you sure?"
He pursed his lips, looking to breakfast once more. "It's nothing. Just something I'll need to get used to."
"What, Mark?"
She saw one corner of his mouth turn up in a rueful smile. "Having a parenting partner."
She smiled unabashedly, then reached across the table to rest her hand atop his.
"I have to get used to remembering that I am not necessarily the place where the buck stops these days," he continued.
"It doesn't bother you—" she began hesitantly.
He interrupted her, anticipating her question. "Absolutely it doesn't bother me that you make decisions regarding Ella. Never doubt that."
"Okay," she said. Deciding to change the subject, she asked, "So about her other grandparents…?"
"Very tactful of you, darling," he said. "They didn't approve of me."
Bridget couldn't help snorting a laugh. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I just can't imagine anyone finding anything to disapprove of in you."
He actually smiled a little. "They claimed I didn't love her."
"Did you?" she asked automatically.
"No," said Mark so quickly it was obvious he didn't have to think about the answer for a moment.
A fleeting melancholy shot through her as he said this, anger at the lies that had kept them apart, the memory of the loneliness, and regret for the years apart; she didn't realise she'd looked down to her hands until he reached to tip her chin up with his finger.
"Hey," he said in an affected stern tone. "I know what you're thinking, and I'll have none of it."
She sighed, offering him a smile. "I know. Can't help it, though." She sipped her coffee again, having sort of lost her appetite for her breakfast. "What about Ella? They might not have approved of you, but shunning their own granddaughter seems to go against all that's natural and right."
"Her parents—whom I met once—made her seem touchy-feely by comparison," he said wryly. "I can't recall if they ever even met Ella. No, no, I'm sure that they didn't, perhaps a perfunctory birthday card on her first birthday. They were certainly not interested in us once they'd been proven correct."
"People change though," she said. "Maybe they've softened with age. Maybe they—"
"I wrote them ahead of our move here," said Mark. "Never told Ella I'd done so in case they never contacted us. I was unfortunately right."
"Sorry," she said. "I'll drop it."
"Bridget, love," he said, grasping her hand again. "I know your heart is big, and I love that. This would be an exercise in futility, even for you. Trust me."
She squeezed his hand in return. It saddened her to think of such cold people in the world, hearts turned against their own flesh and blood. At least Ella had her father, and now her stepmother, as well as the extended family of Sharon, Jude and Tom, even as geographically remote as the latter two were.