by Joan Kilby
He started removing the framed sepia scenes of Summerside circa 1950s. Although interesting, they added to the general run-down air. His patrons came to drink beer and socialize, not admire the decor, but now he wondered if they simply turned a blind eye to the seen-better-days surroundings. No wonder they’d taken to the wine bar in droves. He’d maintained the old-fashioned look out of a misplaced nostalgia. Sure, the football pennants hanging on the wall opposite the bar had been won by local teams, some that his father had played on, but did anyone even look at them anymore? Probably not.
He’d half hoped Emma would be there to help him take down the photo board and deal with the pictures of Holly. Now he was glad to be by himself. He wasn’t sure he could hold it together with all the emotions crowding his heart—his dad’s illness, Emma and Billy leaving, his confusion about his feelings for Emma—and he didn’t want anyone, not even Emma, seeing him blubber.
He found a big cardboard box and started putting in items. It almost felt as if he was packing up a family home. He didn’t know what to do with the individual beer mugs. There were about thirty of them up on the shelves, some hadn’t been used in years.
A knock at the door dragged him out of his thoughts. Tony was outside, peering in through the window, a large manila envelope in his hand.
Darcy went to unlock the door. “What’s up?”
“Can I ask a favor?”
“Sure, come in.”
Tony glanced around. “Why are you taking everything down? You’re not selling, are you?”
“Just doing some renovating.” Darcy had told most of his regulars his plans, but Tony hadn’t been in all week. Maybe longer. “Where have you been lately?”
Tony slid onto a bar stool. “Cerise and I have been looking at rental properties.” He slid a sheaf of papers out of the envelope. “Would you be willing to give us a reference?”
Darcy poured coffee and passed a cup to Tony. “No worries. Are you and Cerise moving in together? How old are you—twenty-three?”
“Twenty-two. Cerise is twenty. And we’re getting married. We want you and Emma to come to the wedding.”
“I can’t speak for Emma but I wouldn’t miss it.” Darcy was surprised to feel a bit of a lump in his throat. He’d known Tony since he was eighteen, barely old enough to drink. The first time the young brickie had come into the pub he’d been celebrating getting an apprenticeship. Now he was almost done his training and getting married. “You’re both awfully young. Surely you’re not old enough to marry.”
Tony grinned. “We don’t want to be ancient like you when we start our family.”
Darcy pretended to take a swipe at him. “Who are you calling old?” He guessed to Tony and Cerise, forty was ancient.
“What’s it like, being a dad?” Tony asked. “Cerise wants to have kids right away.”
Darcy felt his face soften. “It’s pretty cool when the little dude looks up at you and grins like you’re the best thing in his world.”
“Awesome.”
Darcy hated thinking about how perilously close he’d come to not being a father to his son. Like Tony, he’d thought he had found the right woman in Emma. Unlike Tony, he knew that sometimes life threw curveballs that even soul mates couldn’t field.
He was about to lose Emma for the second time. The question was, what was he going to do about it?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EMMA WHIZZED THROUGH her stops around town and even managed to find a cute dress on sale. By the time she pulled up in front of her sister’s house she was more than ready for a cup of tea. It wasn’t Alana she’d come to see, though. She hoped Dave would be in the mood to invite her in.
“Hey, Emma.” He opened the door still wearing his business shirt and tie. “How’s your little man?” He tickled Billy under the chin, making the baby squirm with delight. “Alana isn’t here right now.”
“I know. I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in?”
“I’m catching up on some office work but...sure, come in.” He led the way into the kitchen, where his laptop and papers were spread over the table. “Help yourself to the tea in the pot. Alana will be home soon.”
“I know. That’s why I have to be quick.” Emma started to set Billy’s car seat on the floor.
“I’ll hold him.” Dave undid the straps and picked him up while Emma got herself a cup of tea.
She took a seat opposite Dave who bounced Billy on his knee. “I hate to interfere in a marriage—”
“Then you’d better stop right there.” Dave gave her a hard look. “This is between Alana and me.”
“Do you love her?” Emma asked, ignoring him. “Do you want your marriage to last? Do you want to have more children?”
He’d remained stony-faced until her final question. Then his mouth crumpled briefly before he pulled himself together. Tucking Billy in the crook of his arm, he said, “I suppose she’s told you all about it.”
“Not everything, I’m sure, but enough to know that you two are on a path to divorce if you’re not careful.”
“What do you suggest I do?” Dave said. “We both agreed before we even married how many kids we wanted. Now she’s unilaterally moved the goalposts.”
“I’m not going to lecture you on talking it out, or finding a compromise by both working part-time or any of the myriad solutions you could come up with. I’m not going to mention that if you two split you will see even less of Tessa than you do now. You’re both smart people. You know all that.”
“What then?”
“Support her. Wait it out. She may change her mind. She may not. Just don’t give up on her.”
Dave rolled his eyes. “We’ve been at odds over this for more than a year. Tessa’s nearly in kindergarten. If we don’t have another baby now, it’ll be like she’s an only. I swore when I was a kid rattling around in our big house all by myself that when I grew up I would never have an only child.”
“I know how you feel, not about being an only child, but about wanting another child so badly I thought I would die if I didn’t get one. I pushed and pushed Darcy until I pushed him right out the door.” Emma leaned forward, wanting so badly for Dave to understand. “That’s what you’re doing to Alana. Once Darcy left I discovered there was something worse than not having a baby.”
“What?” Dave asked.
“Not having my husband and the love of my life at my side. He wasn’t with me in bed. He wasn’t with me at the breakfast table. He wasn’t with me on my birthday or on the anniversary of our daughter’s passing. You want lonely? That’s lonely.”
Dave pulled at a thread on the toe of Billy’s sleeper, silenced.
“We don’t always get everything we want in life.” Emma heard her voice tremble and cleared her throat. “But sometimes we find someone who’s so important that he or she trumps everything and everyone else. Don’t make the same mistake I did.” She rapped the table lightly to make sure she had his attention. “I’m not saying this for Alana’s sake. I’m saying it for yours.”
Dave glanced up. His gaze flickered, as if something inside had clicked for him.
The front door opened and laughter bubbled through the house, Alana’s and Tessa’s. Small footsteps thudded on the carpeted floor. A moment later Tessa burst into the room. “Daddy.” She threw her arms around his neck in a quick hug. “Auntie Emma and Billy. Hooray.” Then like a sprite, she ran out of the room again.
Alana came into the room carrying grocery bags. “Em, I didn’t know you were stopping by. You should have texted me. I would have gotten here sooner.”
Emma flicked a glance at Dave. Then turned to her sister with a smile. “I was passing and dropped in on the off chance you’d be around. Dave gave me a cup of tea and persuaded me to wait.”
“Stay for dinner. We’re not doing anything.” Alana’s quick, sad glance at Dave implied she would welcome the distraction. “I’ll put these groceries away then whip up some pasta.”
“No, thank you. I’ve got to get
back to Darcy’s. It’s our last night. I’m moving home tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Alana put down the grocery bag, her gaze searching Emma’s face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She rose, and as she took Billy from Dave she rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. “It was nice chatting to you.”
He glanced up, his mild gray eyes unfathomable. “Yeah, it was good. I’m glad you stopped by.”
Alana walked her to the front door and gave her a hug. “Call me if you want to talk. Tonight, tomorrow, whenever.”
“Wait!” Tessa skipped down the hall in the frilly pink dress Emma had given her along with the tiara and her fairy wings. “Auntie Emma! You’re not going already.”
“Sorry, sweetie. I have to.” Laughing, Emma added, “You look like the Sugar Plum fairy.”
“She adores that dress,” Alana said indulgently.
Emma crouched to pull her niece into a hug. Her throat filled as small arms wrapped around her neck. Holly was gone but she still had a precious little girl in her life. “You’ve grown since I was here for your birthday. Maybe it’s time your Auntie Emma took you on a shopping expedition.” She glanced over at Alana. “Could I?”
“Be my guest.” Alana smiled. “She would love to look at frills and froufrou with you.”
“Hooray!” Tessa shouted. “I want a pink tutu.”
Emma clapped her hands. “With a feather boa!”
“Oh, good Lord.” Alana gave an exaggerated groan. “Tessa, go wash your hands for dinner.”
“Dinner’s not ready yet.” Tessa twirled, lifting her skirts.
“Just give me and Auntie Emma a minute. Go!” Tessa ran off and Alana turned to Emma. “You know how I said you shouldn’t reunite with Darcy? I take it back.”
“He asked me to try again, to live together. For Billy’s sake.” Before Alana’s face could brighten, she added, “I told him no.”
“Why? If he makes you happy, grab hold and hang on with all you’ve got. Darcy’s proven he’s a good father. He loves you.”
“He hasn’t said so.” Maybe if he’d said the words she might have had the courage to confess her secret shame in the hope he would forgive her. But if he was only with her for sex and for Billy’s sake, it wasn’t enough.
“Sometimes guys don’t say it in words. Actions mean more than flowery phrases. And you, girl, need to be more receptive and less cautious. Relax and see what happens.”
“That’s probably good advice.” Under ordinary circumstances, but Alana didn’t know the whole story of Holly’s death, either. “Now I’m going to give you some advice. Hang on to Dave. He loves you. He said so to me this afternoon.”
Alana’s face brightened. “Did he really?”
“Yes.” Emma hugged her again. “Now I must go.”
She made one more stop on her way back to the pub—Ward 5G North. She was anxious to see how Roy was doing and if he’d responded to the new antibiotics yet. She’d called the ward several times since she and Darcy had been in to see him yesterday, but the report was always the same—no change. That was to be expected. It took a while for the drugs to kick in. But by this morning, he should be responding.
Tracey was on duty at the nurses’ station. “How is he?”
“Roy?” Tracey reached for the logbook. “I just came on. Let me see... Here, you look.” She shoved the book at Emma and took the car seat. “I want to see my little sweetie pie. Hey, Billy, how’s my big boy?”
Emma scanned the entries from the residents’ morning round. Temp—37.2 C. Still a slight fever but his temperature was down from the other day. Blood pressure—160/110. Heart rate—105. Neither were good, but nor were they worse than before. She read on for the doctor’s notes. Infection appears to be responding to treatment. Continue prescribed course of oxacillin until further notice.
Emma released her breath. Thank God. She shut the logbook and pulled out her phone, glancing over at Tracey who held Billy and was letting him play with the watch pinned to her chest.
Emma punched in Darcy’s number. “I’m at the hospital,” she said when he answered. “I’ve got good news about your dad.”
She quickly filled him in on the details. “I’m going in to see him now. I’ve got Billy with me. I thought that might cheer him up.”
“Be careful Billy doesn’t get too close. We don’t want him picking up an infection.”
“The golden staph bacteria is everywhere. We’ve all got it on our skin. It’s only when someone’s immune system is impaired, like your father’s, that it can take hold. But don’t worry. I won’t let Billy touch anything. I’m the original clean freak, remember?”
“When do you think Dad will be discharged?”
“I couldn’t say. He’s not out of the woods yet. Sometimes these infections take time to clear up. But he’s definitely on the mend.” She paused. “I’ll be back after that. To finish packing.”
Darcy greeted that with silence. “Tony and Cerise are getting married.”
“That’s great.”
“They want us to come to their wedding.”
“Oh. Well, we’ll need two invitations. Did you tell him that?”
“No.” He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m starting to clear out the pub, getting rid of sixty years of accumulated bits and pieces.”
“So you’re really going ahead with renovations.”
“I told you I was.”
Emma thought of all the many and varied mementos, knickknacks and photos. “That’ll be hard. I’ll help you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind.” Darcy would be going through a tough emotional time. She wanted to be there.
“Really, it’s something I’d rather do myself. If you have to pack, you could leave Billy with me.”
“Okay. Fine.” She felt stupid for pressing the matter. Stupid for feeling disappointed. She was the one leaving. The one who’d shut him down when he wanted to talk. The truth was, she was scared, mixed-up and confused. She didn’t want to remarry just for Billy’s sake. She wanted Darcy to love her. He’d spoken of reconnection, friendship and sex. Where was the love she wanted so badly, the love she needed and, yes, deserved, in spite of everything?
When she moved out he would want to see Billy, not her. Stupid of her to think they were going to hang out together like a family. Stupid to believe he’d changed how he felt about her because they’d made love. Stupid, stupid, stupid, for falling in love with him again and leaving herself vulnerable. Hadn’t she had enough heartache?
“Actually, that would be good.” She managed to say it coolly. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Em? Thanks for calling about Dad.”
“No worries.”
She clicked off and retrieved Billy from Tracey. “Come on, mate. We’ll see your grandpa quickly and head home—”
She caught herself but not before the thought had formed. When had she started thinking of the apartment over the pub as home? Not because it was so homey but because Darcy was there. The sooner she was disentangled from him and out from under his roof, the better off she’d be.
* * *
DARCY WAS ON a stepladder, untacking pennants and listening for Emma’s return when he heard the rear door to the pub open.
“We’re back.” She put Billy’s car seat on a table and pushed her hair behind her ears. Her shoulders in a sleeveless dress were lightly sunburned, making the faint freckles stand out. Her bare legs ended in thin strappy sandals.
Darcy climbed down the ladder and dropped the stack of dusty, faded pennants into a box. He felt a bit awkward with Emma. Already she seemed to be withdrawing from him. Was it appropriate to kiss her on the cheek like a friend? But she wasn’t just a friend. Her cheek would never be sufficient.
“Thanks again for checking on my dad.”
“He’s looking so much better. He’s going to be fine.” She gave him one of her hugs, moderate on the Emma scale but still full of warmth and caring. It was j
ust like her to set aside their differences to offer her support.
He hugged her back then released her reluctantly. Their gazes met, and her eyes were filled with compassion and guilt and wariness. Darcy leaned over the car seat. His love for his son was less complicated than the confused mixture of emotions he felt for Emma. “Hey, monkey face.”
“Nice way to talk to a baby.” But she couldn’t hide a smile.
Billy blew a raspberry. Darcy gasped melodramatically and wiped a drop of moisture off his cheek. “Who taught you that? Who taught you to spit at your daddy?”
Billy waved his arms and laughed. In his tight fist he held the plastic ring of keys.
“He’s really got a good grip now,” Darcy said.
“He’s changing every day.” Emma stroked her baby’s cheek. “Aren’t you, bub?”
“Then I need to see him every day.”
She glanced at him then away, her blue-green eyes as unfathomable as the deepest ocean. “It’s hard to imagine the pub any different than it is now.”
What was that look? That evasive answer? Was she going to have a problem with giving him access to Billy? He supposed every day wasn’t practical but damn it, this was his child. “I’m looking forward to seeing the pub as it was originally intended. It will make the place feel more like mine.”
Plus, Emma’s barb about his procrastination had hit home, and he was determined to prove her wrong.
“I said some things...” she began.
“Never mind. You were right. I am a dreamer, but I’m determined to do this.”
“I really hope it works out.” She picked up the car seat. “I’ll go nurse Billy and put him down for his nap. Then I’ll come and help you.”
“What about your packing?”
“Packing can wait. This is part of my history, too.” She headed for the stairs.
Now for the job he’d been dreading the most. Darcy started to take down the photos on the big corkboard opposite the bar. Many were yellowing and curled at the edges, some completely obscured by newer layers. There were pictures of Darcy and his brothers and sister as kids—fishing off the pier, playing at the beach and eating ice cream in the park. He’d never quite understood his father putting family photos in the pub until he’d had Holly, and he spent so much time there that he wanted a pictorial reminder of her while he worked. It was equivalent to an office worker having framed photos of his wife and kids on his desk.
