Trying Not to Love You - Part Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Eight

                “I’m with him,” hissed Johnny when he answered the phone on the second ring. “I told you I’d call if there was a problem, now piss off!”

Sonny stared at the dead phone and smiled to himself, this was all moving far better than he’d anticipated. And it was such a relief to not have to interfere, to know that this was running itself, that he could focus on the more imminent matter - Martha and Ethan. With a spring in his step he headed for the bookies, how could he lose when things were finally going to plan?  

For as much as Martha felt the walls of her world were falling in, odd snippets of pleasure helped her cope. Ethan’s glorious rapture at the freedom of the farmyard, at feeding the chickens, of Mickey the ever growing puppy teasing him, chasing him. His whoops of joy echoed around the place and she could almost forget her dread that loomed when she thought of the next day and her father.

They were sharing hot chocolate warming up after an afternoon in the cold November air when the kitchen door threw open and Sonny burst in with two huge pizza boxes in his arms. Ethan whooped again, all his Christmases were coming at once, and as Sonny absorbed the shoulder charge to his body, his eyes were on Martha as he laid the pizzas on the table and scooped her son up into his arms, and the look was anything but calm.

                “You win?”

He shrugged, “a few horses came in, then I had a few drinks...it was a reasonable afternoon...although there was someone missing from it all.”

She gave a smile; he was so loving, for someone who seemed so standoffish, so distant to so many. It was amazing that everyone misjudged him, or rather prejudged him, and it was the fact that he didn’t care what they thought, didn’t challenge that image that meant no one learned any more about him. They’d made their decision and he didn’t care enough to prove he was better than that. It was so tragic.

                “Hey why so sad? Isn’t this what you want?”

She looked around at Ethan so happy in her family home, Sonny so attentive beside her. “I’m not sad, I’m just thinking.”

                “Well, me and Ethan want to eat this pizza then watch Indiana Jones, what do you think?”

Martha looked between Ethan’s expectant and excited eyes, to Sonny’s warm and sensual ones, “who am I to argue with that plan?”

As Sonny handed out large slices of pizza, she found a few beers in the fridge and opened a couple. Then the three sat at the kitchen table wolfing down the gooey cheese and pepperoni.

Indiana Jones never failed to deliver, and the three of them sat on the sofa, Ethan in the middle and watched it avidly.

Ethan fell asleep his head on Sonny’s arm, and eventually Martha carried him upstairs to her bedroom. He would sleep in with her; she was worried he’d be disorientated when he woke up otherwise.

Sonny was opening a bottle of wine when she re-emerged from the hallway and sighed, “he likes you!”

Sonny laughed at that, “I’m bribing him, to get in his mother’s good books.”

Martha grinned as he abandoned the wine and walked towards her, pulling her into his arms theatrically, as his mouth descended on hers, she breathed, “you were already there Mr Carter!”

He grinned at that, and then all conversation ended as he kissed her. Would she ever get tired of his insistent yet intoxicating lips? Would she ever not weaken in his arms? And how had she lasted this long in life without him?

They managed to separate before they got too carried away.

                “We’d better behave.” Martha chastised him as she led him to the sofa. Sitting next to him, she handed him a glass of wine, and as the TV switched to Match of the Day, their concentration turned to exotic kisses and erotic touches.

                “We’re not doing this here,” Sonny announced, his head buried in her open shirt, and her hand was somewhere inside his jeans.

Agreeing, she allowed him to lead her upstairs, and snuck into Sonny’s room.

                “We can’t wake him,” she whispered as Sonny overwhelmed her.

He placed a finger over her mouth, “we’ll be very quiet.” Then with a glint in his eyes he replaced his finger with his lips.

She intended to sleep in her bed, but when she opened her eyes, Martha knew she’d fallen asleep in Sonny’s bed. It wasn’t his hand on his waist that made her realise, though it was a wonderful thing to wake up to, it was the fact it was her father’s bedroom, the blue walls, the replica Monet picture, and the alarm clock she’d bought him for Christmas a few years back all staring at her. Rolling over she met Sonny’s eyes, he was facing her, hand outstretched to touch her, but between them, curled into his shoulder was Ethan.

                “He came in about an hour ago,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

She blushed; there was something dreadful about being discovered in bed with a man, by your son. Not that Ethan seemed to be bothered by it.

                “I...er....”

Sonny spotted her blush and squeezed her hand, “it’s ok. Don’t run away again.”

She took a deep breath, “I’m just not comfortable with this...” she gestured towards Ethan. “It’s worse than my Dad walking in on us.”

Pulling her close, over the sleeping child, he kissed her gently, “he’ll manage this, ok? And we’ll be more careful from now on, I promise.”

Smiling she half sat up, “I’ll make coffee?”

He nodded then gave her a lecherous gaze, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Glancing around she realised she had no clothes in the room, with a deep breath, and a sigh, she pulled herself out of bed, then to her feet. He watched her closely as she moved around the bed, naked. As she got close to both him, and the door, he reached out and smacked her bare backside.

                “Think I could wake up to this every morning.”

Sticking her tongue out, Martha escaped to find clothes and her dignity. Would she ever have the confidence that he did?

It was almost an hour later when the two boys emerged. Sonny as usual in just pyjama trousers.

                “Had to wait for this little man to wake, didn’t want him to feel lost.”

Ethan ran up to her and hugged her tightly, “can I feed the chickens again?”

Martha nodded, “after breakfast.” Then she looked up at Sonny, “I’ve heard some excuses for staying in bed in my time!”

He gave her an elaborate wink, “I was tired!”

Laughing she shook her head, “you are NEVER tired.”

She spent the morning exploring, showing Ethan all the haunts that had been special to her when she was a kid. It was so lovely to see him free, unrestrained and relaxed. But then the farm was such a long way from the confines of the bust city that was London, if it wasn’t for Scott then she could have brought him here more often, in fact they could be living there full time.

In a far corner of one of the fields was a swing, a piece of wood her father had secured to a long rope, and she’d spent many a day swinging herself what felt like into the tree tops. Ethan was as excited as she had been, and for Martha it was magical to see the same things fresh through his eyes.

They were both muddy and flushed from the cold when they got back to the house. Sonny was lying on the sofa watching football. He glanced up when they came in, then grimaced as Ethan launched himself at him, landing on his stomach almost winding him.

Martha left them to it, preparing lunch, and she was in the kitchen when her phone rang.  It was her Dad, they were leaving, were planning to be home in about two hours. She offered to pick him up from the station, knowing that she could drop Eamonn off at home, then break the news to her father.

After lunch, Sonny headed to the Oak for a pint, but she knew that he was leaving her some time with Ethan.

                “You know I’m going to collect your Granddad later. Are you excited to see him?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug, “maybe.”

That made her smile, “well I think he’s going to be happy to see you, ok?”

Ninety minutes later she wasn’t so sure.

The men got off the train and she could see two things, firstly that her father was shattered, but also that he’d had a brilliant time. She hoped the good time won out and he wasn’t too tired to deal with her news.

He and Eamonn climbed into the Land Rover and jabbered on excitedly about every bet, every joke, virtually every pint of beer they drank as she drove to Eamonn’s house. He lived at the edge of their land further away from town, and to cut back they had a quiet virtually unused road to the farm.

A few seconds into the drive, she pulled to the side of the road, then turned to her father, and suddenly he had a look of panic in his eyes.

                “What’s happened? You’ve been quiet all the way back from the station. Has something happened?” He gulped nervously, “not another fire.”

She shook her head, hating that tears were welling in her eyes, “I’ve got something to tell you, it’s not an easy thing...and I’m not overly proud...though I wouldn’t change it.”

                “You’re scaring me now.” He sat forward and stared at her.

Taking a deep breath she hated that all her rehearsed lines evaded her, she’d imagined this conversation a thousand times, but she felt tongue tied when it came to the crunch.

                “When I left here...five years ago...I wasn’t honest with you.”

He groaned, “he hurt you didn’t he. I knew it; I should have killed the bastard instead of listening to gossip. I can’t forget that I did that.”

She sighed, “he hurt me many times Dad, but that’s not it. After I left, I needed to time to recover, It was a while afterwards that I realised, but we weren’t speaking...I was scared, I still am. I only did what I thought was right, and now you’ll hate me.” She was babbling, but she couldn’t help it, she felt sick, light headed, this was worse than anything she’d ever done.

                “Bloody hell Martha, what the hell is wrong? I’ll never hate you.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

                “I was pregnant. He got me pregnant, that day.”

Her father slumped back in the seat stunned, “he forced you? Is that what you’re saying? The bastard.” He looked up, “you lost it. That must have been hell.”

                “How it happened is incidental. But I didn’t lose it...him. I had a son Dad, your grandson.”

She watched as her father’s jaw went slack, there was a moment of disbelief, “I don’t understand?”

The tears were rolling now, streams down her cheek, “you didn’t believe me at the time, I was angry, I was scared. I never wanted to come back here, I never wanted him to know, and it was easier that no one knew, so he was born and I told no one, that’s why I rush home so often.”

                “You kept him?” Rather than being angry or shouting, he was almost overly calm and quiet.

She nodded, “he’s four and a half, called Ethan. I brought him to the farm today to finally meet you. I’m still worried, still scared, but I can’t live without you knowing him anymore.”

He shook his head again in disbelief, “drive me home.”

No pleasantries, no anger, not even a raised voice. As she started the engine she wished that he’d shout and scream. Silence was an evil punishment...not that she didn’t deserve it.

As she pulled into the farmyard, she offered, “I’m so sorry Dad, I really am.”

But her words were disturbed by the shouts of a little boy who had escaped from the kitchen and run towards the stationary vehicle, her father glanced at the dark haired little boy, then back to his daughter and shook his head, “what did I ever do to hurt you?”

With that he slid out of the vehicle and squatted down next to the little boy as best he could. Through the open car door she could hear him say, “so you must be Ethan.”

                “I know you!” Ethan replied, “you’re my Granddad. I’ve got a photo of you on my bedroom wall.”

Martha groaned in pain and looked away, when she looked back they were walking into the house hand-in-hand.

It was worse than she had imagined, she wished he’d shout and scream, end this hell. But she’d wanted him to know about Ethan and he did, as long as they had a relationship, then she had to be happy.

Climbing out of the Land Rover she came around the vehicle, not knowing whether she had the strength to walk into the house or whether she wanted to run away. Head for the swing where she could sit and pretend none of this had happened. But she knew that she couldn’t do that, Sonny was right, she was fed up of hiding.

Looking at the house the back door opened, she envisaged Sonny coming out, but it wasn’t him who stood on the doorstep, it was Aunt Lucy, the other person she’d lied to. She must have come home whilst she was out.  It was all too much and she started to cry, making to back away from the house she paused when she saw the expression on Lucy’s face. She held out her arms offering her a hug, and suddenly it was what she needed, someone who offered her comfort.

As she fell into her arms Lucy kissed her head and said, “how the hell have you managed everything? You are an amazing woman.”