Maybe This Time

chapter FOURTEEN



EMMA STEPPED OFF the elevator onto Ward 5G North, after seeing Barb in Administration. She hoped she wasn’t inviting trouble by arranging to start working again. She was feeling better, but still prone to fatigue. This bout with pneumonia was a hard-learned lesson not to ignore signs of illness in the future.

“Look who’s walked right out of the frame of my favorite nurse fantasy.” Darcy came out of another elevator. He gave her his most cheeky smile as he lightly touched her back in greeting and his hand brushed her hip.

Seeing him unexpectedly brought a mixture of pleasure and confusion. She fell into step at his side, keeping her gaze straight ahead, even as a warm glow spread through her. She should never have slept with him again. And again. And again. It was like waking a sleeping dog. A very horny dog. “This is my workplace and your fantasies are inappropriate.”

“Oh, but they’re running rampant with all this medical paraphernalia about. I’ll never forget what you can do with a speculum. By the way, whatever happened to your special uniform?”

“It’s hidden at the back of my closet.” Once, for a costume party, she’d altered an old uniform, making it a tight, micromini with thigh-high stockings and garters and showing generous cleavage, a parody of a porn movie nurse. Darcy claimed it was sexier than black lace.

“Now shush.” Two doctors in blue scrubs went past, conferring as they walked. Emma put a few extra inches between her and Darcy.

“It’s fun seeing you squirm, but okay, I’ll leave you alone. I thought you were cleaning your apartment with Alana.”

“We finished. I’ve just been up to see Barb. I’m returning to work in another week and a half, but cutting back my hours. After getting so sick, I’ve realized I need to be more careful.”

“That’s smart. Where’s Billy?”

“I dropped him off in child care so he could get used to the caregivers and the environment while I visited your dad.” She glanced at Darcy. “I put you on the list of people who are allowed to take him home. Just in case. Is that okay? Maybe I should have asked first.”

He looked startled. “No, it’s a good idea. Thanks. I didn’t think of that.”

“Why would you?” It’s not as though she’d ever asked him to pick up Holly from day care. She’d taken it for granted that he wouldn’t want to or wouldn’t be able to. In fact, she’d assumed a lot about his willingness, or lack of it, to help. She felt sad that she’d learned that too late for Holly. But he could have pushed harder. He’d given up too easily.

They turned the corner in the wide corridor. Up ahead was the nurses’ station. “Have you seen your dad yet?” Emma asked.

“No, but my mother was in to see him earlier today.”

“I’ll look at the doctor’s notes and meet you in his room once I’ve checked in at the desk.”

Emma greeted the other nurse on duty, and asked to see the logbook for the resident’s comments about Darcy’s father. As she scanned the terse notes, her frown grew deeper.

* * *

“DAD?” DARCY TOUCHED his father’s arm and got no response. His color was waxy yellow, his eyes closed and sunken. The only clue that he was still alive was the beeping of the monitors and his raspy shallow breathing.

One tube dripped something into him via a needle in the back of his hand. Another tube emerged from beneath the sheets and emptied into a bag dangling from a hook on the bed. A clip on the tip of his index finger was wired to a machine that monitored his heart rate and oxygen saturation. The jagged green tracings looked erratic to Darcy’s untrained eye. He felt panicky at seeing his father in this condition.

Roy’s eyelids fluttered open. “Marge?”

“It’s me, Dad. Darcy.” He gripped his father’s hand.

Roy opened his eyes and glanced around, plucking at the sheet fretfully. “Where’s Emma and little Billy?”

“They’re around. You’ll see them soon.” He didn’t know if she planned to bring Billy up, or even if she should, given his dad’s infection.

“Fine son you have there. Spitting image of your grandfather, my dad.”

“He’s got the Lewis chin, that’s for sure.”

Roy gripped his hand with surprising strength. “You’ve got a second chance here, with the baby. Don’t let Emma go again.”

This is where he needed to back Emma up. It felt surprisingly hard to defend their agreement to continue with their separate lives.

“We’ve talked. Neither of us want to get together again. Emma’s determined to raise Billy on her own, and I’m going to support her decision. We’re friends, though, and I’m going to see Billy lots.”

Roy shook his head. “Is that enough?”

Not really, but this was no time to be getting into a discussion about it. “I’m going ahead with the renovations at the pub. I’m trying to build up the business again.”

Roy gripped his hand harder. “Why don’t you try to rebuild your life? If I’ve learned anything in the past forty years, it’s that women would rather have their man around than all the money in the bank.”

That was easy for his dad to say. When Roy had owned the pub it was the only joint in town where people could get a drink. There’d been no restaurants serving liquor, only cafés. Emma wouldn’t want a guy who couldn’t support himself. And Darcy had too much pride not to provide for his family even if he didn’t live with them.

Emma entered the room. “The pub is going to look fantastic when Darcy’s finished,” she said, clearly having overheard their conversation. Even though she wasn’t on duty, she bustled about, adjusting Roy’s pillows, filling his water glass.

She gave Darcy an encouraging smile, but her eyes were troubled. What had she found out about his father’s condition?

“Emma picked out the paint,” Darcy said. “Coral walls with antique white trim.”

“Have some water.” Emma held the water cup with a straw to Roy’s mouth. “You need to keep your fluids up. A little more.” She gave his father such a glorious smile Darcy almost felt jealous.

A nurse, Laura, came into the room wheeling a trolley loaded with bandages and supplies. “I’m going to change your dressing now,” she told Roy.

Emma propped a couple of pillows beneath his back and helped the other nurse turn him on his side. She glanced at Darcy. “You don’t have to stay for this. Go get a coffee.”

“I want to stay.” If she was staying, so was he.

“Suit yourself.” She turned to Laura. “I can do this if you like.” Perpetually overworked, like all nurses, Laura made a token protest then thanked her and left to continue on her rounds.

Emma donned a pair of gloves and peeled back the dressing to uncover the surgical wound. The site of the stitches was red and swollen and weeped a yellowish pus that emitted a foul odor. Red streaks radiated down Roy’s thigh. He gripped the side of the bed, his face set against the pain.

Darcy swallowed hard to stop himself from gagging. “Is it healing?”

“It’s going to be fine.” Emma worked swiftly, swabbing the area clean with gauze soaked in some bluish solution. She applied an ointment and then put on a fresh dressing. “All done.”

“When can I go home?” Roy asked.

“You’ll be out of here in no time.”

Darcy recognized Emma’s soothing nurse voice, the one that was more about patient morale than an accurate diagnosis.

She bundled away the soiled bandages into the trash and washed her hands at the sink next to the bed. Then she turned Roy onto his back and plumped up his pillows again. She positioned his call button next to his hand. “Press that if you need anything. I’m not on duty today but Laura will help you. Darcy, I’ll be at the nurses’ station when you’re done.”

He stayed and talked to his father for another twenty minutes, filling him in on the scuttlebutt surrounding the Indian restaurant fire. His dad’s attention waned until finally he closed his eyes. “I’ll let you rest. See you tomorrow.”

He went looking for Emma and found her chatting to Laura. Seeing him, Laura picked up some charts and headed down the corridor. Darcy waited until she was out of earshot. “How bad is he?”

“Your father’s infection hasn’t responded to methicillin, the first line of defense against golden staph,” Emma said. “This morning he was placed on a stronger antibiotic, vancomycin.”

“Will it work?”

“The doctor will know more in a day or two.”

“You’re not reassuring me.”

“I’m being honest. Most patients do recover. A small percentage don’t.” Her gaze was sympathetic. “The elderly, mostly.”

“He’s only eighty-one.” As soon as he said it, he realized how old that sounded.

“He’s strong. He’ll pull through.” She squeezed his hand. “This isn’t the best time to tell you this but...when I return to work next week, I’ll be cutting back to two shifts a week.” She watched him expectantly.

What was she wanting him to say? “Good. It’s good that you won’t be working so much.”

She was waiting for something more from him, but he didn’t know what. Her smile seemed strained. Was she thinking about working, studying and living on her own? Did she like that idea as little as he did? The spotless corridor with the bright lighting seemed a surreal setting for a conversation about their future. He didn’t want to talk about her and Billy moving out. He didn’t even want to think about it.

“Does my mother know about my dad’s condition?”

“The doctor would have told her this morning. It might be a good idea to talk things over with her. Be prepared for the worst but hope for the best.”

“That sounds like a good motto for a lot of things.”

She hesitated. “I overheard you talking to your father earlier. If you’re serious about being part of Billy’s life, that...that would be great.”

The penny dropped. “Child support. You cut back your shifts and now you need extra cash. I’ll start payments tomorrow.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I hate to ask. You’ve been so generous. And if now’s not a good time for you, with the renovations and all—”

“It’s fine. I really want to do this.” He searched her face. “It makes me feel I’m contributing.” Almost like a real father.

She cleared her throat. “I need to pick up Billy. I’ll keep in touch with the nurses about your dad tonight.” She left him standing in the corridor, orderlies and visitors brushing past him.

He’d been living in a bubble the past few weeks, with Emma and Billy at his apartment as if they belonged there. Now reality was bursting in. Once she started shifts at the hospital and resumed classes while living in her own place, he would see Billy once a week if he was lucky.

He’d failed Holly. And he’d failed Emma. Whatever happened, he would not fail his son. With his father’s life hanging in the balance he realized how important his dad was to him. Oh, they’d disagreed over the years—on how the pub should be run, the rules of darts, whether he should have tried harder to stick it out with Emma—but through it all, Roy had always been there to talk to. Darcy couldn’t imagine not having him around.

Now he wanted to be there for Billy.

Something had changed in him. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t wanted it, but love had conquered fear. He couldn’t go back. Even if he only saw Billy on weekends he would be a father to his son.

Instead of going to the elevators he returned to his father’s room and sat beside the bed. His father was asleep but he spoke anyway. “Dad,” he said quietly, “you have to fight this infection. You’ve got a new grandson. He needs you.” He swallowed. “I need you.”

* * *

EMMA’S SUITCASES WERE open on the bed, half-packed, a reminder that she was moving out tomorrow. But first she had a lot to do today.

“We’ll stop by the university to drop off my term paper,” Emma told Billy as she pushed his pudgy feet into booties. “Then we’ll go to Auntie Alana’s house. If we’ve got time, we might even get in a little shopping.” Summer was coming and she hadn’t bought clothes that weren’t maternity wear in nearly a year. “After all that we’ll come back here to finish packing. Sound good?”

Billy made a noise and shook his rattle for emphasis. He was wearing his best outfit, a new blue T-shirt and OshKosh overalls. His hair had come in wavy and dark like Darcy’s but his eyes were like Emma’s, a shifting blue-green.

“You don’t say? I so agree.” She strapped him into his car seat.

“You’re leaving already?” Darcy stood in the doorway, his gaze taking in the suitcases, her stacks of books in boxes and the piled-up baby paraphernalia by the door.

“No, I’m just going out for a few hours.” She hadn’t seen him since yesterday afternoon at the hospital. He’d stayed with his father and then gone straight to work. By the time he’d come upstairs she’d gone to bed.

“I plan to go tomorrow.” She took a deep breath. “I want to thank you for everything. You’ve been wonderful to me, and to Billy. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’ll be forever grateful.”

“Emma, stop. You don’t need to say that stuff as though I’m no more than an acquaintance. It’s me, Darcy.” He came into the room and sat on the bed. “We need to talk about Billy.”

Emma glanced at her watch but she sat, too, and tried to relax. A few minutes wouldn’t make a difference to her schedule, and Darcy deserved her time. “You did a good job with him. He’s going to miss you.”

“The little guy has grown on me.” Darcy’s gaze filled with love as he handed his son a fallen toy. He glanced at her. “I’m not going back to being that guy who doesn’t want children. I’m going to be a real father to him.”

“A real father,” she repeated, slightly stunned but not really surprised. She should have seen this coming. Carefully, she added, “What do you mean by that, exactly? You’ve already agreed to pay child support.”

“I want to see him regularly. I want to be part of his life on an ongoing basis. I want him to grow up calling me Daddy. I want to be part of his future.”

At one time all she’d wanted was for Darcy to acknowledge his son. Time had made her greedy. Now she wanted more. She’d hoped any talk of the future would include making plans for them to see each other. Hoped he’d meant what he’d said about not ruling out a reconciliation. She waited for him to say something else, about her and him. About them being a family. He didn’t.

“You walked out on me because I wanted a baby. Then I got pregnant accidentally. And you still didn’t want to know Billy. Fine. I was prepared to raise him myself. Now you’ve had him around for all of five minutes and you decide you’re going to be a father?”

“Do you seriously have a problem with that? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Darcy, you have a history of always looking for something new and different. Billy’s exciting to you now, but what happens when you get bored with him and change your mind again?”

“I’m not going to get bored, or change my mind.” He got to his feet, agitated. “Sheesh.”

“How do I know that? What if, when Billy is say, two or three years old, you meet a woman and then you’re in a relationship and maybe you’ve got a new baby.” She was speaking really quickly, getting it all out in one breath. “And suddenly you stop coming around—”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“How do I know? Why should I believe you?” She looked at him and shook her head. “You’ve been amazing, taking care of me and Billy the past ten days. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed getting to know Billy. But don’t feel you have to keep it up. I know kids and family and stuff isn’t your thing.”

“I love Billy,” he said.

His simple conviction made her want to crumple. If he loved their son but didn’t love her, she was destined to a future of seeing him and aching for him.

“Love isn’t enough. You have to be present, too.”

“I will be present with Billy. I can’t prove that in advance. You’ll have to take me on faith.”

“Darcy, you’re a dreamer. You do nothing for years with the pub then suddenly you come up with grandiose notions for a major renovation when a simple paint job and new carpet would do the trick. Maybe some two-for-one coupons of your own. But no, you want to rip down walls, build a glass house, throw in a garden....” She flung her hands about. “Nothing will ever happen. You know that.”

“That’s not true. I’ve given Gary the go-ahead.” At least he would, tomorrow. “I’ve been preoccupied with my father, and taking care of you and Billy.”

The fight went out of her as she simply gazed at him, all churned up inside. “What about us? Have we got a future? Because I still want the same thing I’ve always wanted. You, me, our baby—together as a family.”

“You said you wanted to raise Billy on your own. I presumed that was because you didn’t want to be with me.”

“I wanted to but...we’re broken.”

He reached for her hands and held them in both of his. “Yes, we’re broken. But we have amazing sex and I believe we have a true friendship. A lot of couples don’t even have that.”

Emma clutched his hands, fighting tears.

“Let’s try again,” he said. “For Billy’s sake. We both want what’s best for him. Let’s live together and be a family. I didn’t want a child so soon but it happened and now I’m ready to accept it.”

For Billy’s sake. Emma tugged her hands away. “I want to be loved, not taken on out of a sense of responsibility, or duty, or some familial urge to carry on the Lewis name.”

And he didn’t know the worst about her. If he did, he wouldn’t be asking her for a second chance.

She grabbed her handbag and keys and picked up the baby car seat. “I have things to do. I’ll be back later to finish packing.”

“Fine, run away. It’s what you always accuse me of doing. Just know this, I will be a father to my son,” Darcy said, following her out. “Even if my name isn’t on the birth certificate, he’s mine. I can’t make you believe in me. It’s enough that I believe.”

Emma hurried downstairs and out of the pub’s back door to where her car was parked. She was running away. She’d finally gotten what she wanted from Darcy, or at least enough to build on, and she couldn’t handle it. What was wrong with her?

* * *

DARCY HEARD THE door close and went to the window. With a heavy heart he watched Emma put Billy in the rear seat and drive off. They’d barely begun to sort through their problems and she was leaving. When it came right down to it, she didn’t want to talk about what was really keeping them apart any more than he did. Holly’s death was just too painful.

He went downstairs and walked through the pub, struck by how shabby the rooms looked in the morning light. Scratches crisscrossed the wooden tables, the chairs looked beat-up and the carpet worn. There were scuff marks on the pale walls and around the base of the bar from countless shoes. Definitely time to update the old girl.

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?