by Joan Kilby
Reluctantly, Emma rose, too. “I’ll go. I’m meeting friends in Summerside tonight. I might drop into the pub and see Darcy after. No sense putting off telling him.”
Alana walked Emma out. Emma paused in the living room to say goodbye to Tessa, taking her away briefly from a game of Pin the Wings on the Fairy. At the door, Alana squeezed Emma’s arm. “I’ll go with you when you tell him if you want.”
“Thanks, but this is something I have to do by myself.” Emma gave her sister a hug and held her for a moment. “I would love it if you would be my birthing partner.”
“I’d be honored.” Alana drew back. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t immediately thrilled for you. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”
Emma hesitated. Alana didn’t look particularly happy. Now that they’d made contact again she didn’t want to be the cause of her sister’s distress. “Are you worried I’m going to steal your thunder, having another baby at the same time?”
Alana shook her head. She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was near then clutched Emma’s hand. “I don’t want another baby. Dave is pushing for it. I want to go back to work. In fact, I’ve applied for a job at the gym, teaching group fitness classes.”
“Oh, but...Tessa’s three. It’s a good time. In fact, you’re behind schedule.” Emma smiled. “You always said you wanted three children spaced two and a half years apart.”
“That was before...”
“Before what?”
A hint of desperation flashed in Alana’s eyes, but she didn’t finish her thought. Instead she took another tack. “The longer I’m out of the work force the harder it will be to get back in. Especially in my field, where I have to be super fit. If I want to move up, maybe get a permanent position at a gym, then I need to think about my career.”
Emma had been under the impression Alana chose to be a fitness instructor so she could teach classes part-time and stay home with her kids. “But I thought—”
“Sorry, Emma, the kids are finished. I’ve got to go.” Alana hugged her. “Good luck tonight telling Darcy.”
“Thanks. I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’ll be relieved he’s not expected to do anything.”
Emma walked slowly to her car. What was going on with Alana? Something was definitely bothering her. Now Emma regretted more than ever not keeping in better contact with her. It was a shame her sister had done a complete one-eighty about her plans for a family. Tessa was the sweetest kid.
Emma looked at the house. As if she’d sensed her aunt’s thoughts the little girl stood at the window, waving goodbye. She was wearing the tiara. Emma blew her a kiss. Alana didn’t know how lucky she was.
And now Emma was lucky, too, to be having another baby. She hoped Darcy wouldn’t be too upset, but even if he was, she couldn’t be more thrilled.
* * *
ANOTHER FRIDAY NIGHT at the pub, another big crowd.
Darcy held the pub door open for the departing white-haired woman in blue jeans and sensible shoes. Tony had brought his grandmother, Shirley, in for a drink on her seventieth birthday. “Happy birthday. See you next time.”
“Thank you, Darcy. I had a very enjoyable evening.” Shirley clutched the ten dollars she’d won from Tony’s mates at the shuffleboard table.
“You’re a shark,” Darcy said, and winked at Tony.
“Cheers, mate,” Tony said to Darcy. “This way, Gran.” Tattooed arm extended, he gently steered his grandmother toward his utility truck.
Darcy glanced across the street. The lights were on in the vacant shop. Wayne was inside, reeling out a tape measure. So, it was starting to happen. Darcy wasn’t against competition, but he had to admit the location of the wine bar wasn’t the greatest. Why couldn’t Wayne have gone to Mornington or Frankston?
Darcy was about to go inside when he noticed Emma walking toward the pub. As she passed beneath the streetlight her red hair glowed. What was she doing here? It couldn’t be because she’d missed him. He hadn’t heard from her since the cruise. Not that he’d expected, or wanted, to. All that angst was too much hard work.
He had to admire the graceful way she moved, though, even walking across the road. She wore a knit wrap dress that clung to her curves and her hips swayed almost as if she was dancing. Darcy had gone to a Latin dance club in the city last week but had left after half an hour. It hadn’t felt right. Now dancing was lost to him along with football and an appreciation for a fine whiskey.
Emma stopped at the curb to let a car go by. Darcy ducked inside the pub, seeking his own turf and friendly, familiar faces. Maybe she wasn’t even coming here. Maybe she’d been visiting someone and her car was simply parked on this side of the street.
Emma walked through the door. Nope, guess not.
A pair of very young women slid onto newly vacated bar stools. He turned to them, grateful for the diversion. “What’s your pleasure, ladies?”
“Two apple martinis,” the blonde said. The brunette nodded, giggling.
Darcy smiled indulgently. “Can I see your ID?”
They dutifully pulled out their wallets and he scrutinized their driver’s licenses. They were legal. Just. “Two appletinis coming right up.”
Emma found an empty seat at a table next to the wall and fiddled with the drinks menu, flipping through the plastic-coated cards listing the specialty beers and ciders. She hadn’t tried to make eye contact yet. Darcy knew because he kept her in his peripheral vision as he poured shots of green-apple schnapps and vodka into the cocktail shaker along with crushed ice. He made a big show of shaking the container and joking with the girls as he strained the frosty mix into cocktail glasses. They giggled some more as they sipped through tiny straws. Eat your heart out, Wayne.
Emma was still waiting to be served. Damn it, where was Kirsty, or Elise, the weekend barmaid? Hefting heavy trays of beer on the other side of the pub, no doubt. Darcy lifted the partition separating the bar from the room and went to Emma’s table. “What can I get you?”
“Can you sit down a moment? We need to talk.”
He gave an incredulous laugh. “Em, this is the busiest hour of the busiest night of the week. Come back tomorrow morning, then we can talk. Meantime, would you like a chardonnay? It’s on the house.”
“No, thank you. I can’t drink alcohol.”
“Since when? You love your chardy.” The only time she’d ever refused a glass of wine was when—
Her eyes were locked with his. Even so it took two long beats before realization hit him like a cold wet bar towel across the face. No, she couldn’t be.
“That’s right,” she said. “I’m pregnant.”
He dropped into the chair opposite. He shook his head. Blinked a few times. “Wh-whose is it?”
“Yours.” She gathered her purse and started to rise. “I’ve told you, now I can leave.”
“Hang on!” He grabbed her arm, pulling her down. “Are you positive it’s mine? We used—” He glanced around and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “We used condoms both times.”
A trio of guys with their girlfriends filed in, calling out hello, forcing him to find a smile and a cheery wave. Across the room a table of college students signaled for another round of beer.
“You’re right, this is a bad time,” Emma said. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“No.” Darcy dragged a hand through his hair. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you positive it’s mine?”
“I haven’t been with anyone else since our divorce.”
Was he dreaming? Had to be. Because this was his worst nightmare ever. He spotted Kirsty and called to her. “Get Brad off his break to tend the bar, will you? Table four needs another round and I’d like a double Scotch.”
Kirsty’s blue eyes widened under her dyed black bangs at this unusual request. He never drank and never sat down when the bar was this crowded.
“It’s an emergency,” he said. “Emma, would you like a soda water, or something?”
“Nothing, thanks.�
� She still had her purse on her lap, poised to leave.
“Thanks, Kirsty, that’s all.” When she’d left he turned to Emma, his fingers drumming the table. “Walk me through this.”
“There’s no big mystery,” she said impatiently. “We had sex. I conceived. Basic biology.”
A simmering rage bubbled beneath his surface calm. “You did this on purpose. You couldn’t get your way while we were married. So you decided to go ahead and have a baby anyway. You played me for a fool.”
“We used condoms, you dope. How can you think I did this on purpose?”
“I don’t know, a little nick with a fingernail—”
She held up her nails, filed almost to the quick. How could he have forgotten? Germs lived beneath fingernails.
“Teeth?” he suggested. “You could have done practically anything while you were down there. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wouldn’t have had a clue.”
Emma’s color deepened. “Well, I didn’t.”
Kirsty set his Scotch on the table, her curious gaze lingering on Emma. She’d started at the pub three months ago and didn’t know Emma was his ex-wife.
“Thank you, Kirsty.” He tried but couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. An edge directed at Emma.
He started to take a drink, but one whiff of the alcohol and he didn’t want Scotch, after all. He set the glass carefully on a coaster. “What do you expect me to do about this?”
“Nothing. Telling you is merely a courtesy because fathers have a right to know. I’m not asking for anything. I don’t want your money or your time. I don’t want your interference or token parental effort. I’m going to raise this baby on my own.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” She had it all worked out how she would manage the baby without him. Typical. She’d done that with Holly, too. Made him feel as if he was clumsy and useless. And he had to admit she was right, witness the time he’d let Holly roll off the changing table. That one incident had been a game-changer, a turning point in their little family. From then on he and Emma both accepted that he wasn’t good with babies. He knew how to play with them but he didn’t know how to care for them. That’s how he saw it and he was pretty sure she did, too, because after that she didn’t let him help.
But whether he was a good dad or not, a baby was on the way. No matter what Emma said about not wanting his money, he couldn’t shirk his responsibilities. He wasn’t made that way. “I’ll set up an account for the child.”
Money was the easy part. Worse would be the whole emotional angle he would have to deal with. Another baby. Another fragile, vulnerable, mortal human being he was biologically programmed to love more than his own life. He couldn’t do it again. He just couldn’t. The pub noise became a roaring in his ears. The walls began to close in on him.
“Darcy? Are you okay?” Emma’s voice seemed to come from very far away.
Suddenly he felt light-headed. He had to get away before he passed out. Gripping the table with both hands he pulled himself to his feet. “I’ll notify you of the bank details in the morning.” Then he got up and walked away while he could still stand.
CHAPTER FOUR
EMMA JUGGLED SHOPPING bags full of baby things and the mail she’d collected from her box in the foyer and inserted the key to unlock her apartment door. After a nine-hour shift, then the mall, she was dying to shower, eat and put her feet up, not necessarily in that order.
She passed through the entry hall and into the small living room filled with inexpensive furniture she’d bought after the divorce. She hadn’t wanted anything from the old house, no reminders of the love and family and home she’d lost. Darcy had taken the beautiful red leather couch and chairs, the handmade teak coffee table and other unique pieces they’d collected together, and crammed them into his two-bedroom apartment above the pub. The pine coffee table and hard-wearing fabric couches she owned now held no memories and if she occasionally missed her old stuff, too bad. She needed to toughen up.
She sank onto the couch with her head on a cushion and her feet on the opposite arm and leafed through her mail. It felt good to lie down for a minute. She’d forgotten how pregnancy sapped her of energy.
The Monash University School of Nursing logo stared at her from the top left corner of an envelope. She tore it open. Her application had probably been rejected. After all, she’d already started it once, before she’d gotten pregnant with Holly, and quit. Having pulled out then might go against her now. And she’d applied late. Maybe the program was already full.
But she hoped not. She was counting on this extra degree to help her provide a good future for her and her baby. She quickly scanned the single typewritten sheet. Dear Ms. Lewis, yada, yada...
Approved.
She blinked and looked again, making sure she’d seen right, then grinned. Yes! She was in. It was all happening. The master’s, the baby. Everything she wanted was coming true for her.
Her smile faded. Not everything. Her marriage had fallen apart. She’d totally screwed up by getting pregnant with her ex-husband. Darcy didn’t want anything to do with her or the baby. When she’d told him she was pregnant he’d looked as if he might throw up. Then he’d stood and walked away from her and hadn’t come back.
Something had died inside her then, a tendril of hope she hadn’t even realized she’d been hanging on to. Even though it was what she’d expected, his reaction still hurt. Money was all he was willing or able to give. Nothing of himself, no love for his own baby, no warmth for her, the mother of his child.
Well, she didn’t want him. By his own admission and from her experience, he wasn’t husband and father material. He could be, if he wanted to be. He simply didn’t care about family as much as she did. Heat pricked the backs of her eyes and she pressed her fingers to them. Damn him. She’d thought she was beyond being hurt by him.
And how about his suggestion that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose? How insulting was that? Had he forgotten how quickly she’d become pregnant with Holly? She was obviously very fertile and his sperm so virile they’d done the backstroke up her vagina like mini champion athletes. On the cruise he was the one who’d started intercourse without a condom, assuming she still had an IUD.
Maybe she should have made it clear the second they’d entered his cabin that she didn’t, but she’d expected he would automatically reach for protection. They were too old to be carried away by the moment. But that’s what had happened. One thing hadn’t changed—the attraction between them. But a relationship couldn’t thrive on sex alone.
Bottom line, she was on her own. It might not be the way she wanted it but it was what she had to work with. She had to be practical not emotional, for the baby’s sake.
First thing Monday morning she would contact the School of Nursing and confirm her place in the program, look at the course requirements and find out times, etcetera. Then she’d talk to the hospital about managing her hours around her classes. She didn’t envisage any problem there. Barb was high up in administration, and besides being her friend, she was always encouraging the nursing staff to upgrade their qualifications.
Her stomach rumbled. Her meal of chicken salad at the food court was two hours ago. Another thing she’d forgotten, how ravenous she was all the time. She dragged herself off the couch and out to the kitchen to heat a bowl of minestrone soup in the microwave.
A week had passed since that night at the pub. Every day since she’d half expected to get a phone call from Darcy wanting to talk about the baby, but nothing. What kind of a man, even one who didn’t want to be a father, walked away from that kind of news with no discussion? Oh, the next day he’d sent her an email asking for bank details so he could deposit money for the baby. She’d deleted it without replying. Thought he could throw money at the problem and it would go away. Huh!
She ate her soup then put her dishes in the dishwasher and went to have a shower. The hot water streaming over her head and shoulders gradually eased
some of the tension out of her knotted muscles. She needed to let the incident go. She’d told Darcy she didn’t want anything from him and she meant it. She just wished, for her baby’s sake, that he cared even a little.
She turned off the tap and stepped into the steamy bathroom. Even though it was only 7:00 p.m. and still light out she didn’t bother dressing again but put on a camisole and panties, ready for bed. Rubbing a clear patch on the foggy mirror she turned sideways, smoothing a hand over her flat stomach. No sign of a baby bump yet. Her breasts had started to swell, though, curving above the lacy camisole.
A knock at the door startled her. Who could that be? She wasn’t expecting anyone and didn’t know a soul in the building. Anyone from outside would ring the bell to be buzzed up. Pulling on a dressing gown, she went down the hall and put an eye to the peephole.
Darcy stood there, holding a fistful of purple irises and orange gerberas. Despite herself, she melted a little. Just when she was totally, completely angry and had decided she hated him, he brought her flowers.
Emma opened the door. One bare foot crept over to rest on top of the other. “What brings you here?”
He presented her with the bouquet. “Sorry I acted like a dickhead.”
Wearing his button-down shirt and with his tousled dark hair, he looked younger than his forty years and sexier than he had any right to. How could she possibly feel attracted when she was so angry at him?
Hell, why was she even angry? She wasn’t supposed to feel anything anymore. “Thanks,” she said, accepting the flowers. Their fingers brushed. Nope, she felt nothing. That was static from the carpet, not a spark of electricity.
Darcy’s gaze dipped to the neck of her robe where the top of her camisole showed. “Looks like I caught you at a bad time.”
“I go to bed early. I have to get up at five.” Now she was explaining in case he thought she was expecting someone. Which she had every right to do, if she wanted. Except that she wasn’t, and had no plans to go out with a man in the foreseeable future. Maybe someday, after the child was a few years old she would be ready to date again, but not with Darcy’s baby growing inside her.
