by Joan Kilby
Six weeks.
She would definitely call that overdue. Add in the breast tenderness she’d been experiencing and the frequency of having to pee... A smile spread across her face. She wanted a baby so badly.
Tracey, filling in paperwork at the nurses’ station, glanced up as Emma approached. “What are you grinning about?”
“Nothing.” She leaned over a filing cabinet and pulled out a drawer, pretending to riffle through the files for a patient’s case notes. She didn’t want to say anything about the baby, not even to Tracey, until she knew for certain.
If she was pregnant, the baby had to be Darcy’s. She’d been out with a few men she’d met online in the past four months but she hadn’t liked anyone enough to do more than kiss them good-night.
Tracey reached for the phone. “I’m going to call Barb and Sasha. Where do you want to go for drinks after work?”
Drinks were a Friday-night ritual for her and Tracey, plus Sasha, a midwife, and Barb, who was a manager in hospital administration. But alcohol would be out of the question if...
Emma stayed Tracey’s hand before she could punch in any numbers. “My niece is having her birthday party this afternoon.”
She hadn’t planned to go even though she was invited. It was too hard. Tessa was turning three, as Holly would have been if she’d lived. The girls had been born, amazingly, on the same day. Twin cousins, she and Alana had called them. Emma had a present for Tessa all wrapped and ready to drop off at the door. But if she were pregnant, maybe, just maybe, she would be able to bear to see Tessa.
“We could go out for dinner instead,” Tracey suggested.
“Um, I’ve got a tentative date for tonight. Can I confirm that before we make plans?”
“A date, huh?” Tracey grinned. “Who is it this week? The firefighter? Are you going to do the deed at last?”
“Er, no, the IT guy.” There was no date. Emma kept her head down, hoping Tracey wouldn’t ask questions even though in the past she’d sought her advice.
“I thought we’d decided he wasn’t right for you.” Tracey peered into Emma’s face. “Hey, why so quiet?”
“No reason.” Emma bustled about the station, moving a stack of files from one spot to another.
Tracey studied her pointless movements. “Have you been in touch with your ex since the cruise? Is Darcy why you can’t go out with us?”
“Why would you say that?” Emma felt the blood drain from her face. Tracey had an uncanny knack of tapping into what she was thinking. She didn’t always get it exactly right, but close enough to be spooky.
“You’re acting weird. And you never told me what happened that night on the cruise.”
“Nothing happened.” After confiding in Tracey about her divorce, Emma was embarrassed to say she’d slept with Darcy. She would look like an idiot. Fair enough, she was an idiot. All she’d admitted to Tracey was that she’d gone for a walk with Darcy around the deck. Fortunately Tracey had hooked up with someone that night and hadn’t been in their cabin when she’d returned in the wee hours, upset. “We...kissed. That’s all.”
“Really?” Tracey said skeptically. “All that stuff you told me about how you couldn’t stand him? When I saw you dancing I didn’t believe it. I thought for sure you would get back together. You two were smoking hot.”
“Not getting back together,” Emma said firmly. “We had a great time on the dance floor but that’s all we have in common anymore.”
That was possibly not true. They might have conceived another baby. She would love that. They’d made one beautiful child, Holly, together and when they’d been married she’d hoped she and Darcy would have several more kids. Even if they weren’t together now, she had no problem bearing his child. Once upon a time she’d loved him with her whole being and even though she knew those days were gone forever, if she couldn’t have him, having his baby would be the next best thing.
Darcy wouldn’t be happy, though. Huh! Not happy? That was putting it mildly. He would freaking stroke out. Oh, God, what if he wanted her to get rid of it?
She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. And she would tell him so in no uncertain terms. He couldn’t force her—
Stop. There was no point in going up and down on this emotional roller coaster until she knew for sure if she was pregnant. She needed to know now or she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her work.
“You know, I do feel a bit under the weather.” She lifted the watch pinned to her blue scrubs top. “It’s time for my break. I’ll go lie down in the on-call room for a bit.”
Before Tracey could quiz her further she hurried around the corner to the supply room. Once inside, she shut the door and scanned the shelves. Every ward had pregnancy test kits. Nurses administered them when patients were not sure and had to take medications that might be contraindicated.
She grabbed a kit, stuffed it into her purse and hurried to the washroom. A few minutes later she sat on the closed toilet lid clutching the test strip. A thin blue line had formed. A half sob emerged. She was going to have a baby.
But—
Her arm wrapped protectively around her waist. The situation was far from ideal. She’d hoped that after her divorce she would meet a man she could build a relationship with, someone who would want a child as much as she did. Instead she’d gotten pregnant by Darcy, who didn’t want children, and was the one man she could never have a relationship with again.
Darcy’s reaction was his problem. And yes, she’d wanted to marry again but sometimes things didn’t work out the way you planned. The main thing was, she was having a child. Maybe it was better that she was single. That way she wouldn’t have to deal with a potential husband’s opposing ideas about child rearing. This time she would be in complete control. She would be able to do everything right, take no chances.
She was prepared to raise the kid on her own. That wasn’t a problem. Did she have to tell Darcy? Wouldn’t she be doing him a favor by keeping him in the dark? No guilt, no responsibilities...that seemed to be the life he wanted.
She didn’t need his help. As a nurse she had decent pay and conditions. She would get a year’s maternity leave on half pay. Less money but more time to care for the baby. Juggling university with work and a baby might be tricky but having the master’s degree would give her a better future as a single mother. There was a lot to think about but it was exciting rather than daunting. She liked working out logistics and practicalities, especially for such a wonderful reason.
Her smile bubbled to the surface. Suddenly she felt like celebrating. She exited the cubicle and pushed the test kit deep into the rubbish bin.
At the nurses’ station, Tracey glanced up, clearly surprised at seeing her back so soon. “I thought you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m okay. I’ve decided I’d rather have dinner with you and the girls instead of going on a date.”
“Great, I’ll round up the others.” Tracey reached for the phone.
She listened to Tracey explaining to Barb and Sasha. She was grateful for her friends, for the fact they hadn’t given up on her even when she was unsociable and depressed, as she frequently had been in the months following her divorce.
Emma pressed a hand to her belly. This baby couldn’t replace Holly. But she hoped—prayed—he or she would be the magic bullet that would lift her spirits and allow her to enjoy time with her friends, renew her relationship with her sister and love her niece....
Not too much to ask, was it?
* * *
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TESSA!” Emma crouched to hand her niece a gaily wrapped present. Half a dozen little girls, their faces painted with flowers and butterflies, were seated in a circle to watch the present opening. Emma’s chest tightened with a familiar ache. Holly should have been part of the circle, sitting next to her cousin.
“What do you say, Tess?” Alana stood behind her daughter, dressed in her trademark track pants and T-shirt. Her normally neat brown ponytail was fraying, no doubt a simil
ar state to her nerves at the prospect of two hours of kiddie fun.
“Fank you, Auntie Emma.” Tessa’s honey-blond curls were pinned back with butterfly clips. She jiggled up and down on her pink ballet flats, making the fairy wings pinned to her tulle dress bounce.
“Go ahead and open it.” Emma smiled, trying not to imagine what Holly would look like at this age. Trying not to imagine her speaking real sentences...
In the background Dave was blowing up a plastic fairy castle with a foot pump. His fine blond hair, ruffled where it was thinning on top, waved with every stamp on the pump. He must have come home from work early for Tessa’s party. He’d always been great like that. Alana was so lucky.
A woman wearing a filmy dress with sparkles in her long hair and fairy wings on her back was putting away the face paint.
Tessa tore open the paper and clasped her hands. “Oh!” Inside was an extravagantly frilly pink dress with puffy sleeves and a ruffled skirt. She peeled back another layer of tissue paper to uncover a sparkly tiara and shrieked. “Mummy, look!”
“She doesn’t already have a dress like that, does she?” Emma asked. “I kept the receipt.”
“Are you kidding? I’m not a frilly kind of gal. Tessa’s such a girlie girl. She’s lucky her aunt is, too.” Alana smiled warmly. “I’m so glad you could come. We’ve hardly seen you since...” Her gaze flicked away. They both knew Emma hadn’t stepped foot in Alana’s house for a year and a half, not since Holly’s funeral. Oh, they met at their parents’ house and in the village for coffee occasionally, but the long hours spent at each other’s homes with their babies were a thing of the past.
Emma straightened from her crouch, her pain mixed with guilt. She and Alana had always been close and when their girls were born—a first child for both—the bond had grown even stronger. Together they’d charted Tessa’s and Holly’s every milestone, first tooth, first step, first word... When they’d realized they were getting competitive they’d had a laugh over it.
The accident had ended all that. For the first six months Emma couldn’t even bear to look at Tessa, which only made her feel worse because she adored her niece. She’d hurt Alana, too, pushing her away when her sister only wanted to be there for her, and comfort her. Nor was it easy for Alana. She grieved over Holly’s death, too. Emma knew she felt uncomfortable and guilty for having a daughter while Emma had none. Somehow, through feeling too much for each other, they’d ended up barely talking.
It was hard to begin again.
Alana tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. Cleared her throat. “Cup of tea?”
Badly needing to get away from the room of little girls, Emma agreed readily. “Have you got herbal?”
“Of course. Go on ahead and put the kettle on. I’ll see what’s next with the fairy lady and be right there.”
Emma went through the dining room to the kitchen she knew almost as well as her own. While the kettle boiled Emma admired Tessa’s colorful drawings that her proud mother had stuck to the fridge. Someday, her new baby would make drawings.
Peppermint tea was steeping when Alana returned and announced they had a few minutes while the fairy lady led the children in a game. She took down tea mugs painted with stylized owls. “I was thinking. Maybe sometime you and I could go out by ourselves?”
“That would be lovely.” Emma hated the uncertain note in her sister’s voice, as if Emma might not want to hang with her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I—”
“It’s okay,” Alana said too quickly. She brought the mugs to the table and poured the tea. “How’s work?”
Emma told her about her move to the geriatric ward and the master’s degree she hoped to be starting soon. She was trying to lead up to her big news but now that she sat across the table from Alana it was surprisingly hard to say. Emma was afraid her sister wouldn’t approve of her having a baby on her own. Her worry must have shown through.
“You’ll manage,” Alana assured her, misunderstanding. “You’re so organized. You’ll have every day of the week blocked out and color-coded—time for work, for study, for the gym—”
“For the baby.”
Alana choked on her tea. She swallowed and stared at Emma. “The baby?”
Emma nodded, anxiously studying her sister’s reaction. “I’m pregnant.”
“Pregnant,” Alana repeated. “That’s...great. Isn’t it?”
“Yes! You know I’ve wanted to have another baby for a long time.”
“I do...but, Emma, you’re on your own. Or are you? I’ve seen so little of you lately. Is there a father?”
What, no, “Congratulations, Emma, I’m thrilled for you”? She couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. She and Alana were estranged, true, but they were still sisters. Alana had supported her when she was trying to convince Darcy to have a baby. Now she seemed ambivalent.
“I haven’t gone through IVF if that’s what you mean.” Some of the tension she’d felt around her sister in the past year crept into Emma’s voice.
“It’s not.” Alana huffed. “Do you know who the father is?”
Emma drew back. “Of course. I don’t sleep around.”
“Don’t be so defensive. The first thing you said wasn’t, I’ve met a wonderful man and we’re having a baby. All you said was, I’m pregnant. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be happy for you, or not.”
“Fair enough. Let’s both take a breath. It’s been so long since we’ve shared personal stuff, we’re bound to be rusty.”
Alana refilled their cups. “Are you in a relationship with the guy?”
“No.” Emma chewed her lip. “I’m not even sure I’m going to tell the father about the baby.”
“What’s this about a baby?” Dave asked, coming into the room. He set the foot pump on the floor next to the door to the garage.
“Can I tell him?” Alana asked.
“Sure, what the heck. Just don’t go spreading it around until I’ve had a chance to tell Mum and Dad. Even though they’re away, gossip spreads.”
“Emma’s pregnant and is going to raise the baby on her own,” Alana informed her husband. “She won’t tell me who the father is.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you. I just haven’t told you yet. Sheesh.”
Dave straightened and adjusted the silver metal-framed glasses on his narrow nose. “Even if you plan to be a single mother, it’s a father’s right to know his children.”
Emma knew he was fervent about the issue. He’d been married before and had had to fight for access to his two kids with his first wife.
“I agree fathers have rights but...” Emma glanced at Alana and braced herself. This time she knew how her sister would react. “It’s Darcy.”
“Darcy.” Alana exchanged a shocked look with Dave. “After all you went through, I can’t believe you slept with that jerk. Please don’t tell me you two are getting back together.”
Sometimes she wished she’d hadn’t told her sister how Darcy not only blamed her for Holly’s death but had also flatly refused to have more children. Not that she wasn’t still angry with him herself. But when Alana attacked him so vehemently she had to fight the urge to defend him. And that confused the hell out of her.
“No, it was a one-night stand. We both agreed on that. In hindsight, even that much was a mistake.”
“Fathers have rights, yes, but Darcy doesn’t want to be a father,” Alana said. “Don’t tell him. He doesn’t deserve a child. You definitely don’t need any more crap from him.”
Crap like being swept away on the dance floor. Crap like being kissed breathless on a silver moonlit sea. Crap like being made love to as if she were a sex goddess.
Emma sighed. Making love with Darcy that night had been wonderful. But it was only a fraction of who they were together, not the whole. As well as being her closest friend and soul mate, he also had the power to hurt her more deeply than anyone else. Not that he did so on purpose, but she would have to be nuts to deliberately put herself in h
arm’s way. “You’re right. I don’t need any more crap. But I still have to tell him.”
“What if he wants to be part of your baby’s life?”
A brief surge of hope caught her off guard. She would love to be a family again—she and Darcy and their child. She quickly tamped down the hope. Darcy had never been part of Holly’s life in the way Emma had expected when their little girl was born. He was too busy with the pub, with his friends, anything but being a family man. Oh, he played with Holly and took great delight in her but he wasn’t a hands-on dad who changed diapers or fed her or did any of the mundane caring things that led to real bonding—at least in Emma’s opinion. Since Holly died, he never wanted to look at old photos or talk about her, something that would have given Emma comfort and helped her grieve. It was almost as if he wanted to forget Holly had ever been born.
“He can’t be part of my new baby’s life because I won’t allow it,” Emma said flatly. “But that won’t be a problem. You’re right...he doesn’t want a child.”
“Take your lawyer with you when you tell him,” Dave advised. “Make sure he knows he’ll have to pay child support.”
“I’m not going to ask for support. Getting pregnant is something I want—even though this pregnancy was accidental. This baby will be one hundred percent mine.”
“Well, congratulations then,” Dave said. “This could work out well, right, Alana?” Placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder, he turned to Emma. “We’re trying for another baby.”
“Oh, wow.” Emma leaned across the table and hugged her sister. “We might have twin cousins again.”
“Hmm, yeah.” Alana glanced at the wall clock above the breakfast nook. “I’d better get the cake and ice cream ready.”
Emma frowned at her evasive answer. Didn’t Alana want to share baby stuff with her again? This was a real opportunity for them to heal their relationship and bond over a new set of babies. She opened her mouth to speak, but Alana was heading to the counter for the pink-frosted cake and directing Dave to get out plates.
