Dirty Daddies(87)

They’d been nervous as I sat them down at the new dining table. Glancing at each other as I cleared my throat and flipped open the file.

A charity initiative, right here on our property. Goats and sheep and chickens galore, even a couple of ponies, if Carrie wants them.

An opportunity for disadvantaged youngsters to find connection in the land. To be given responsibility and trust in an environment where they can express themselves.

“You mean a farm?!” Carrie asked. “A real farm?!”

“A real farm,” I said. “And no stupid tick boxes or budget restrictions,” I’d said to Michael. “Just you two and the outdoors with whoever you feel can benefit from it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Michael told me as he eyed up my initial proposals.

“Yes would be nice,” I replied. “Yes, and when can we get started?”

“When can we get started?” he asked, and I smiled.

Oh, how I smiled.

And then I got the two Labrador pups from the crate in my car.

Carrie’s face was a picture I’ll remember forever, hugging them like they were the greatest treasure on earth.

“Now,” I said. “We get started now, so you’d better get busy on that chicken coop, Carrie. The poultry auction is next week, and the sheep are arriving two days after Michael’s finishing date.”

“Fuck,” Michael said as a smile spread across his face.

And Carrie didn’t say anything other than a whole load of thank yous muffled by puppy fur.

It was more than enough for me.





Carrie



The farm completes me in ways I never knew I could be completed. Helping others going through similar to the things I went through growing up makes my heart burst every day.

Michael’s too.

He’s good at this stuff, much better than he was ever allowed to be in the office on someone else’s payroll.

My pups are older now, and our furniture is finally safe from puppy teeth. Our chickens are laying nicely and our sheep are on a decent rotation through our fields.

It’s easy work when you have so many people to help you, and we have a lot. More of them turning up each month.

I finally have a wagon in the field behind the house, and a couple of gypsy cobs to pull it if I ever needed to go anywhere. But I don’t. I have everything right here.

Well, almost everything.

We’ve been watching my cycle, Jack, Michael and me. Timing our dates so they can come inside me without any risk of additional family members on the way before we’re ready.

But I’m ready now.

It turns out I have more than enough love for Jack, Michael, two pups, a herd of sheep, ten chickens, two ponies and the random collection of kids who need our help.

I know I’ve more than enough love for some of our own, too.

And that’s what I want next.

A baby of our own.

It’s Jack who broaches the subject as he sees me flipping through the wall chart and marking out another month right on schedule.

He slaps Michael on the back as he hands out our evening beers from the fridge, and then he comes right out with it, typical Jack style.

“I think it’s about time we put a baby in that pretty little girl of ours.”

I feel the blush on my cheeks before I’ve even turned to face him.

“What?” I ask and he tips his head.

“You heard me. Pregnant would be a good look on you. It’s not as though we haven’t got the room.”

I’m almost touching twenty, but they’re not getting any younger. I can’t hide the smile as I nod my head.

“I think I’d like pregnant.” I take a breath. “I think I’d like pregnant a lot.”

Michael is the last to speak. He’s always so considered.

“I’m ready whenever you guys are,” he says. “I’ve been ready since the day we met.”

So have I. I just didn’t know it then.

I’ve thought about the question of paternity a lot these past few months, and in truth I don’t care at all whose baby I have first. I’m planning on having so many of them that I’m sure it’ll even out one way or another.

There’s more than enough love in this house for all of them.

“Three days,” I say. “The calendar says three days until I’m ovulating.”

And those three days crawl by so slowly I feel like I’m trapped in a time warp, but all the best things come to those who wait.

I kick off my boots the moment we’re done for the day, ditching my muddy clothes and jumping in the shower to freshen up.

I don’t need to remind them what night it is, the guys are already stark bollock naked on our sofa when I head back down wearing the old t-shirt of Jack’s I still walk around the house in.