Maybe This Time

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 just 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.

There were quite a few snapshots of him and Emma, of them with Holly, of Emma and Alana on a sailing dinghy, their hair blowing back from laughing flushed faces. The bay waters in the background reminded him of the cruise. It hadn’t turned out anything like he’d hoped. Instead of finding a new woman who would take his mind off Emma, he’d entwined his life inextricably with hers forever through Billy. A year ago he would have kicked himself for being so dumb. Now he thanked God for his good luck. When he thought of how close he’d come to not having this child...

“You’re not throwing these out, are you?” Emma pulled the framed photos of 1950s and 1960s Summerside out of the box.

“I was going to take them to the secondhand shop.”

“If they were reframed and hung on the newly painted walls they would look fantastic. The pub has a lot of character. I don’t think you should mess with it too much. Just streamline it a bit, make it less cluttered, with new furniture in an old-fashioned style.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” It was, although he hadn’t known it until she’d articulated it.

“You should paint upstairs while you’re at it,” Emma went on. “Even renovate the kitchen, make it bigger. With a decent cooking space you might even learn to cook.”

“You were going to teach me how to make your chicken curry. Guess it’s too late now.”

“I’ll invite you over next time I make it.”

“Okay.” He tossed a broken frame into the discard box. “Actually I was thinking of buying another house. Someplace with a yard.”

“Another house?” she repeated, looking a bit shocked.

“Did you think I was going to live above the pub forever? It was only a stopgap.” He had the craziest urge to ask her again to marry him. But he tamped that down. Why subject himself to another rejection?

“I—I didn’t think about it at all. It’s nothing to me.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

She straightened. “What do you mean?”

He walked over to her and tweaked a lock of her hair. Somehow they’d gone from being intimate to standoffish, and he didn’t know how to get back to closeness. So he resorted to teasing.

“You’re jealous,” he said, and her eyes widened. “You’d love to have a garden again. To grow your plants and to let Billy play outside in the grass.”

“You’re wrong. I’m over gardening. An apartment is so much less work.” She turned away and started pulling down the horse brasses a friend of his father’s had brought back from England once upon a time. “If you had a yard, a fenced backyard, somewhere safe, it would be good for Billy...when he visits you.”

She was over gardening. Just like he was over football because of the association with that awful spring day nearly three years ago. Their biggest interests—besides Latin dancing—had been destroyed, along with Holly. It was wrong. He was tired of living in limbo.

He crossed the faded crimson carpet to the corkboard to pick out his favorite photo of Holly, one of him holding her as a baby. With a fingertip he traced the outline of his daughter’s tiny face. So small. He closed his eyes and was enveloped by the memory of her soft, soft skin and her sweet baby smell. He could hear her giggle, and the way she called, “Daddy!” when he came through the door at night.

Too many times he’d given her horsey rides and piggybacks then handed her off to Emma for the bath or the feeding. Emma should have let him do more. He should have insisted. Until Billy, he hadn’t realized how much bonding came from mundane acts of physical caring.

Billy was the one who mattered now. Yet to pretend Holly had never existed in the hopes that he could forget the grief and pain clearly wasn’t working and it dishonored her memory.

He carried the baby photo of Holly over to Emma. “Don’t you think Holly and Billy look a lot alike, even though she had your coloring?”

Emma stiffened. She glanced at the photo, looked at him, and then slowly reached out to take it. Her fingers trembled as she held it.

Darcy slid his arm around her shoulders and drew her in close. “Just a little, about the eyes?” He heard her breathe. Then she sniffed. He tightened his hold.

“Sh-she was so beautiful.”

“She was an angel.”

“Oh, Darcy.” Emma turned her face into his chest with a sob. “I miss her so much.”

“I do, too.” His other arm wrapped Emma and drew her in to hold her tightly. His tears spilled into her hair as she wept in his arms.

Grieving together was so simple, so basic and necessary to the healing process, yet they’d never done it. It was his fault. Guilt and recriminations had gotten in the way. And he’d never been brave enough to face the pain.

“I wish I’d been able to talk about her,” he murmured into Emma’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

She drew in a ragged breath. “I know it hurts.”

He went on holding her for a long time after both their tears had dried. His chest ached with the sadness, with Emma’s pain, with the loss of his daughter. But he felt more at peace, as if he’d moved out of that limbo state and could look forward and back instead of peering blindly through the fog.

“Come over here and sit down.” He pulled Emma to a table and brought over the stack of photos of Holly. “Let’s look at these together. It might be less painful.”

Emma nodded tearfully. She took the top photo. “I remember this day. It was really hot and her ice cream melted before she could eat it.”

“She was so funny, trying to lick it off her elbow.”

“The neighbor’s dog got most of the ice cream, as I recall.” She gave him a ghost of a smile. Then picked up another photo. “She was so cute in this little dress I made for her. The pattern could expand to two sizes up. I was going to make her another and another as she grew.” She went quiet.

Darcy put his hand over hers. “We had her for eighteen months. We need to be grateful for that and not think about what might have been.”

“It’s so hard,” she whispered.

“I know. It’s hard for me, too, especially thinking I should have spent more time with her, done more with her, the way I’ve started doing with Billy.”

Emma’s face suddenly crumpled. “It’s my fault.”

“Mine, too. I was intimidated by your knowledge. It was easy to let you take over.”

“No, I mean, it was my fault she died.” Emma looked at him, her face wet. “All this time I’ve blamed you for not going on the picnic because I couldn’t bear to admit that I should have stopped him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Darcy said. “You’re not making sense.”

“Kyle. I knew he was drunk. I saw him stagger when he came out of the house. And when he spoke he slurred his words. I tried to get his keys off him but—”

“Go on.”

“He was hitting on me—”

“What?”

“He was always hitting on me. Usually I ignored him, but that day he was leering down my blouse, touching me, making suggestive remarks about how he could come over at night while you were at the pub.”

Darcy swore. “I can’t believe this! Why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known, I would have decked him. He wouldn’t have been able to walk, let alone drive. Why didn’t you come inside and get me?”

“I should have. He wouldn’t hand over the keys, and he was too big for me to take them off him. I should have gone straight into the house and got you. But I knew that as soon as I went in he would have driven off so what was the point? I just wanted him out of my yard and away from the house.”

“Oh, Emma.” Darcy got a sick feeling in his stomach. “It wasn’t your fault. The guy is a prize jerk. And I’m at fault, too. I should have been a more responsible host and kept a closer eye on how much people were drinking.”

“It’s not very realistic, though, is it? People should be responsible for their own behavior. Footy parties are notorious for drinking games and overindulgence....”

She was letting him off too lightly. “Emma—”

“Wait, I’m not finished. I want to say this, get it all out.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I was so angry and upset, so focused on Kyle that I wasn’t paying attention to Holly. I went back to gardening. I wanted to get my pansies in. I always plant pansies on footy grand final weekend. And tomatoes on Melbourne Cup Day, the first weekend in November. Holly wanted me to throw the ball to her. I told her to wait. She threw it anyway. It bounced off a tree trunk and rolled onto the driveway. Holly ran after it as Kyle backed up.”

She started to cry again. “I let Kyle get in his vehicle and drive knowing how drunk he was—”

“It’s not your fault.” Darcy pulled her back into his arms. “You just said you tried to get the keys, but he wouldn’t give them to you.”

“I should have been watching Holly. If I’d played with her instead of being so bloody-minded about sticking to my gardening schedule...” She gulped a sob. “If you were out there, you would have been playing with her and the accident never would have happened.”

“But I wasn’t outside with her, was I?” Darcy said bitterly. “I was inside, drinking with my mates. That’s what I feel so bad about, what I could never talk about. I was drunk, too. Too drunk to realize Kyle shouldn’t have been driving. And because of that, our daughter is dead.” He stroked Emma’s trembling back. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” She hugged him fiercely then eased away and gazed at him with a tearstained face. “We’ve both been beating ourselves up for not being responsible enough, playing the if only game. We’ve got to stop or we’ll never be able to move forward. It was an accident. A horrible, pointless, tragic accident. But an accident, nevertheless.”

“You’re right.” He pushed her hair off her face, his palm sliding against the tears he wanted to kiss away. Something held him back. He was looking to her for answers, but in her eyes he saw his own doubt, uncertainty and fear reflected. They’d hurt each other so badly. “We’ve finally got everything out in the open. The question is, where do we go from here?”

Emma bit her lip and looked at him sadly. “Maybe now we can move on with our lives. Separately.”