Maybe This Time

chapter FIVE



“HEY, MUM.” Darcy kissed his mother on the cheek and breathed in cinnamon and nutmeg from the apple cake she was baking.

The kitchen of his parents’ four-bedroom brick home in the older part of Summerside could be called cluttered and untidy. Darcy saw it as lived-in. Growing up here with his two brothers and his sister, he’d gotten used to a lot of stuff lying around. Now the toys and drawings and games belonged to the grandkids that spilled in and out as if this was their second home. A framed photo of Holly sat on the windowsill. Every time he came here his gaze went to it, then quickly away.

Marge wiped her floury hands on her apron and pulled Darcy into a hug. She held him at arm’s length to look him over. “I made a roast. You’re going to take the leftovers home with you.”

Did he really look like he was starving? Darcy liked himself a bit leaner, but everyone was making a big deal of him dropping a few pounds.

“Who else is coming today? I haven’t talked to anyone in a few weeks.” Chloe, his parents’ tan-colored poodle cross, jumped up and licked his hand. He ruffled her ears. “Hey, girl.”

“Dan and his family. Possibly Mike.” Marge tipped the chopped apple into the bowl of batter.

“Where’s Dad?” While his mother’s back was turned, getting the cake pan ready, Darcy sneaked a taste of the spiced batter.

“In the backyard.” Marge turned and shooed him away from the counter. “Don’t think I didn’t see you dip your finger in the bowl.”

“When I was a kid I really believed you had eyes in the back of your head.” He sat on a stool at the counter and reached for a scrap of apple peel, taking a bite to delay the moment. “I’ve got some news.”

“Emma’s pregnant.” Marge poured the batter into the pan and scraped every bit out with a rubber spatula.

“How did you know?” He should have asked Emma who else she’d told besides her family. For some reason he’d assumed no one, but that was probably naive.

“My friend Lydia works at Target. She served Emma the other day when she was in buying a ton of baby things. Lydia reckons there’s no way she’d buy that much for a friend, or even for her sister.” Marge eyed him sympathetically. “Do you know who she’s with? Who the father is?”

Darcy shifted uncomfortably on his stool. He hadn’t told his family about hooking up with Emma on the cruise. There hadn’t seemed to be any point. Half a dozen times in the pub he’d been on the verge of telling his father about the pregnancy, but he was usually busy and Roy was always surrounded by his mates. By the time Darcy found a moment to himself, his dad had gone home.

“As a matter of fact, I’m the father.” He quickly held up a hand. “And no, we’re not getting back together. It was an accident.”

Marge shook the spatula at him. “You’re too old for that kind of accident.”

“Don’t lecture me, Mum. How’s Dad’s hip?”

“Don’t change the subject. But since you asked, he’s been moved up on the waiting list. We’re expecting a call from the hospital any day for him to have the operation.”

“That’s great. How’s his blood pressure?”

“It’s come down a touch. He’ll be all right.” She opened the oven door and slid the cake inside. Then she faced him across the counter. “What’s going on with you and Emma?”

“Quite honestly, I don’t know. We’re not unfriendly, but it’s tense at times. I want to pay support but she doesn’t want me to have a role in the baby’s life.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “But then, I never wanted another child.”

“Now that it’s happening you have to deal with it.” Marge wiped up the mess on the counter. “You two should try again. A baby might bring you together.”

“I know people who think that will work, but I wonder how often it’s successful in practice.”

She dropped the peel in the compost container then looked at him, her eyes filled with hope and fear. “I want to know my grandchild, Darcy. Is she going to allow me and your dad into her life?”

There was no reason for her not to, but with Emma he never knew. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Or I could. Do you mind if I call her?”

“If you like.” The ramifications of this baby were still sinking in. Whether he was an active father or not, his child would be at the center of a web of family ties. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Not that he wanted to keep his mother away. She and Emma used to be close, and she was a wonderful grandmother to Dan’s three kids, Mike’s two and Janine’s four. Holly had adored her.

Darcy slid off the stool. “I’ll go say hi to Dad.”

If the kitchen was an example of his mother’s haphazard housekeeping, the backyard was a testament to his father’s obsessive tidiness. The grass was trimmed to precisely two inches high, the edging done every week like clockwork and the flowering shrubs neatly pruned.

His father was leaning on the fence, holding up an azalea cutting and demonstrating how to plant it to his neighbor Hal, a stockbroker in his early fifties.

Darcy walked over, picked up his dad’s cane where it had fallen in the grass and propped it against the fence. “Hey, Dad.” He lifted a hand to the neighbor. “Hal.”

His father turned and saw him. “Hal, this is Darcy, my youngest. He runs the pub now.”

“Nice to see you again. We’ve met, Dad.” Many times. His father was over eighty and getting forgetful along with the creeping deafness and the dodgy hip.

“Hey, Darcy.” Hal gave Roy an indulgent smile. “I’ll let you go. Thanks for the tips.”

“Don’t forget this.” Roy handed the cutting over the top of the fence. “Mind you water it well.”

Darcy put his arm around his dad’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He handed him his cane and adjusted his pace to Roy’s slower limp as they walked toward the shed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, fine,” Roy said, wincing at a misstep. “Never better.”

“It’ll be good to get that hip replaced.”

“Ah, there’s no hurry. Come and see my new power drill.” Roy told Darcy about his new project, making and selling birdhouses at the craft market, as he led the way inside the garage he’d made into a garden shed cum workshop. Floor-to-ceiling shelving along one wall stored gardening implements, woodworking tools and miscellaneous items Roy had taken out of the pub when he’d handed it over to Darcy.

Darcy duly admired the power drill then perched on a sawhorse while his father tidied his potting table. How many times as a kid had he worked in here with his dad while they chatted companionably about everything and nothing? He’d always imagined doing something similar with Holly when she got a little older. It was another experience he wouldn’t have with Emma’s baby.

“I guess Mum told you about Emma.”

“Nice girl, Emma.” Roy wiped his secateurs then hung them on a hook on the wall. “I wish her luck with the baby.”

“You know I’m the father.” He paused. “And Mum thinks we should get back together.”

His father looked at him over the top of his glasses. “Doesn’t matter what your mother or anyone else wants. What matters is between you and Emma. That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

“Thanks.” The vote of confidence was nice to hear. His father was right—he and Emma had to work through this themselves. He was also grateful his dad wasn’t interested in hashing over the situation because he had other things he wanted to talk about.

“Did you hear about the wine bar going in across the street from the pub?”

“Wine bar? What the hell is a wine bar?”

“Fancy wines at inflated prices, basically. Also competition for the pub.”

“You’re not worried, are you?”

“Nah.” He paused. “But I wonder if I should get the place painted. Freshen it up a little.”

Roy climbed onto a step stool, and from the top shelf he brought down a dusty roll of blue-tinged paper. “I was cleaning up the other day and found these. They’re the original architect’s drawings for the pub. It was supposed to have a garden room. Pretty avant-garde for those days, for a country pub. Guess the first owner thought so, too, because he never had it built. Or else he was short of cash.” He handed the drawings to Darcy. “Anyway, you might find them interesting.”

Darcy tapped the dust off the roll and unfurled the plans on the workbench. “Looks like there’s supposed to be a proper kitchen, too.”

“Leaving that out was a mistake. Every country pub serves up a Sunday roast at the very least and most do counter meals during the week. Course, those days are over, and we’re not exactly a rural area anymore.”

Darcy glanced at his dad. “Do you think I should revamp the old girl?”

“You do what you think best. Wine bar might be a flash in the pan. Lots of places come and go.”

“Not the Summerside pub.” Darcy rolled the paper and handed it to his dad. “I like the pub the way it is.”

Roy waved the plans away. “Keep them. They’re a curiosity if nothing else.”

Darcy shrugged and tucked the roll under his arm. He saw nothing wrong with the pub, and besides, he had too much on his plate to think about major renovations. Even though he’d voiced concerns to his dad, he couldn’t seriously see how a wine bar could hurt his business to the point where he would have to take such drastic action.

He’d always thought someday he would pass on the pub to whichever of his children wanted it, the way his father had handed it over to him. But what if he didn’t have any more children? What if Emma’s baby—who he wasn’t to have any part of—was destined to be his only living offspring?

The legacy of the pub started to feel pretty hollow.

* * *

OVER THE NEXT few days Emma registered for her courses and obtained approval from the hospital to work part-time in the evening to allow her to attend classes. She was going to be very busy but planning was key to success. And if she was busy, she wouldn’t have time to pine for what she didn’t have, like a partner.

She’d been alone before. She could handle it, that wasn’t a problem. She simply missed what she and Darcy had had, especially now that the baby was coming.

Instead of dwelling on what might be missing, she created a spreadsheet on her laptop and blocked out time for classes, study and work, color-coded for easy identification. Everything else—exercise, chores, socializing—filled the small allotments of an hour here and two hours there.

By the end of the week, she was all organized. She’d even bought her nursing textbooks for the coming semester. She couldn’t wait. She loved caring for patients, but study challenged her brain in ways she didn’t get in the day-to-day routine around the wards.

The phone rang. Absently, she picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Alana said. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve just been planning the next twelve months.” With the phone tucked beneath her chin, she rearranged an entry.

Alana chuckled. “You’re doing a spreadsheet of your life, aren’t you?”

“Go ahead and laugh but it’s how I’m going to get through this year.”

“Make sure you factor in time for the gym.” An undercurrent of excitement bubbled through Alana’s voice.

Emma glanced at the green-shaded exercise squares. Not as many as she would have liked, but her free periods were limited. “I’ve allocated a couple of slots a week for that. Why?”

“Because that might be the only time we see each other from now on—”

“Oh, my God! You got the job.” Emma saved her document then leaned back in her chair.

“Yes! I’m the new fitness instructor at Brett O’Connor’s gym right here in Summerside. I start next Monday doing three days a week.”

“How does Dave feel about this?”

“He doesn’t know. And I’m not going to tell him.”

“Alana Jane. You can’t keep something like this from your husband.”

“Actually, I can. I’m telling Dave that I’ve renewed my gym membership. Tessa can go into the day care there while I teach my classes. Tessa won’t know if I’m attending a class or leading one. It’s perfect.”

“I meant, you can’t lie to Dave. You have to tell him the truth. You guys are so solid. You talk about everything and don’t let disagreements cause cracks in your relationship. You’re my marriage role models. If you two can’t tell each other the truth, then I don’t know what to think.”

“We are solid, at least we were until we came up against this one sticking point—me getting pregnant.” Alana’s voice trembled. “Honestly, Emma, it’s bringing our marriage to the brink. You haven’t been around so you don’t know. I don’t want to lie. But I’m just not ready to have another baby.”

Alana’s situation was the reverse of her and Darcy. She wanted the baby and he didn’t. It was all very well for her to urge Alana to open up to Dave but that hadn’t worked for her and Darcy. Still, she hated to see her sister’s marriage put under this stress.

“What about the money you make? How are you going to explain that?”

“I’ll set up a separate bank account in my name. When I’ve saved enough for a nice holiday, I’ll tell him. Hopefully when I wave tickets to Tahiti in his face, he’ll think differently about me working.”

Maybe. As a chemical engineer working for the government Dave earned enough that Alana could stay home with the kids but not enough for luxuries like holidays and a new car. He might be glad of a trip, but Emma couldn’t imagine him easily forgiving the deceit.

“And in the meantime he thinks you’re trying to get pregnant? How does that work?”

“I get lots of great sex. Oh, please be on my side, Em. Don’t go ratting me out to Dave.”

“I wouldn’t. But I think you should tell him.”

“And I think you shouldn’t have a baby on your own. So we’re even.”

Emma was stung into silence by her sister’s blurted rejoinder. It was easy for Alana, speaking from the comfort of a stable marriage. “If you really mean that, maybe you shouldn’t be my birthing partner.”

“Oh, Em, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying these days.”

Emma struggled to set aside her hurt feelings. She’d been without her sister for too long, and she didn’t want the rift to get any wider so she would overlook this. There was no question where her loyalty lay, even if her sister was misguided.

“If you need me to do anything—look after Tessa or whatever—I’ll be there for you. Just don’t ask me to lie to Dave.”

“Never. Thank you. And I so want to be your birthing partner. Please don’t cut me off.”

“I won’t. So will you have another child at all?”

“Someday, maybe. You must have passed the first trimester by now. Are you showing yet?”

Emma lifted the hem of her T-shirt and smoothed her hand over the slightly curving skin. She’d only had a touch of morning sickness this time and it was almost over. “I’m starting to get a baby bump. Probably no one else would notice, but I do.”

“Are you going to find out what gender it is?”

“No, I don’t care. As long as it’s healthy it doesn’t matter if I have a girl or boy.” Emma picked up an empty teacup from the coffee table and carried it into the kitchen. “Hey, how about you and I go to dinner and a movie one night, just us girls?”

“I would love that! Let’s make it Friday. It’s the only day Dave doesn’t work late and can look after Tessa.” Alana hesitated. “Are you sure you can spare the time?”

Emma felt bad. She was guilty of the thing she’d resented about Darcy, not making time for family.

“Of course I can.” She went to her computer and clicked to the first spreadsheet. Virtually every day was blocked in solid. But if she shaved off an hour from study time and an hour from the gym and went to bed a couple of hours later... Damn, she had to get up at six o’clock Saturday morning for work. She glanced around the room at the mess she needed to clean up. She hadn’t done housework all week.

What the hell. Vacuuming could wait and sleep was overrated. “Friday would be great.”

She hung up and focused on her spreadsheet, making small amendments here and there. Just a few more minutes at this then she might start reading her textbooks. It had been years since she’d studied theory, and a refresher would stand her in good stead once classes started in a couple of weeks.

The phone rang again. She was never going to get finished. If it was Tracey, she would tell her she’d talk to her at work tomorrow. “Hello?”

“Emma, it’s Marge.” Her ex-mother-in-law’s voice was gentle, hopeful, caring. Quietly assertive. Only she could wrap so much emotion into a few words.

Emma hadn’t seen or talked to Marge in months and then only in passing when she ran into the other woman in the post office. “Darcy told you.”

“I wanted you to know that if ever you need anything, you can call on me.” She paused. “It takes a village to raise a child. Or at the very least, an extended family.”

“So I’ve heard.” Emma sighed. Marge had been wonderful when she’d had Holly. And she agreed with Marge’s saying, We women have to stick together. But if she took her up on her offer, she would get sucked into the Lewis family. Which she loved, but it would mean frequent contact with Darcy. As much as she cared about Marge she didn’t think she could handle that if she and Darcy weren’t together.

“Um, thank you,” Emma added. “That’s really kind of you. I’ll let you know.”

There was a short shocked pause as Marge absorbed her brush-off. “All right, dear. I’ll be here.”

“Say hi to Roy for me.”

“He’ll be pleased you thought of him.”

Emma ended the call, feeling guilty. Marge cared about her and had always been supportive. Whereas Emma was being a wee bit selfish for wanting things her own way. She was doing it to protect herself, but that didn’t make her feel any better.


July, midwinter

DARCY STOOD IN the doorway of the pub and watched workmen unload red velvet couches and chairs, antique coffee tables, long gilt mirrors and old-fashioned oil paintings. The wine bar was going to look like a brothel.

For months builders had worked feverishly on the site. They’d gutted the interior then replastered, painted, put in new flooring and lighting. In spite of all that activity, part of Darcy hadn’t really believed it was going to happen. And yet, tomorrow was the grand opening.

A flyer drifted along the sidewalk with a gust of wind. It was an advertisement offering free finger food and fifty percent off all drinks on opening day. Darcy picked it up and stuffed it in the overflowing garbage bin. The damn things had been littering the town all week.

Fifty percent. His profit margin was already almost as low as he could go and stay in business. But he was confident his loyal customers wouldn’t let him down. They came to him for the atmosphere and out of long habit. And okay, because until now his was the only watering hole in town. He wasn’t afraid of a little competition. Bring it on, wine bar.

Tomorrow was also, by coincidence, Emma’s birthday. He got out his phone and started scrolling through electronic birthday cards. Nothing jumped out at him as appropriate for an ex-wife-pregnant-with-his-child with whom he had irreconcilable differences.

He hadn’t seen her since the day he fixed her outlet, though he knew his mother had called. He’d phoned once or twice, just to see if she was okay. She’d kept the conversation brief, saying she didn’t have a lot of time to chat, but she’d sounded upbeat, not as if she was missing him. Or needing him. Well, why would she? She was going to have her baby and that’s all she wanted.

His thumb slowed on the scroll button. She used to rag on him for sending e-cards. Okay, he would send her a real card. He clicked his phone off and poked his head inside. “Kirsty, I’ll be back in five minutes.”

He headed across the road to the newsagent. There he perused the racks for something funny but unsentimental. He didn’t want her to think he was pining after her. They used to go out to a nice restaurant on her birthday. This year he imagined she would do something with her girlfriends or her sister.

Or was there a new guy in her life? Was that why she never had time to talk? It didn’t seem likely she was seeing anyone, but of course it was possible. What kind of man would want to hook up with a woman pregnant with someone else’s kid?

A generous, caring guy who could look past circumstances and see Emma for the jewel she was, that’s who. Emma was pretty special. The fact that she hadn’t found someone before the cruise said more about the men on offer than about her desirability. Darcy had no right to be jealous. He wanted her to be happy and to have the family she was so desperate for, even if he couldn’t be that guy for her.

He picked up a card with a cartoon elephant on the front. The caption inside read something about never forgetting her birthday. She would be seven months along now. Would she take that elephant the wrong way?

In the aisle behind him, he overheard a couple talking while they looked at magazines. “...wine bar...Friday,” the woman said.

Darcy’s ears pricked up. Friday was the opening.

“I drink beer,” her male companion protested.

“...boutique...imported beers.” Her voice was softer so Darcy couldn’t catch every word. But he heard enough.

Darcy turned around and casually glanced through the racks of cards behind him. The couple looked to be in their late forties, smartly dressed. They were interested in cooking and photography judging by the magazines they were leafing through.

I serve imported beer, too, he wanted to tell them.

“...free finger food,” the woman went on. “...flyer...discount. Tanya and Jerry...meet us there.”

“Sounds good. We’ll do it.” The man shut his magazine. “Are you ready? I want to get to the bank before it closes.”

Wayne Overton’s flyers were clearly working. Too preoccupied to care about the birthday card anymore, Darcy carried the one in his hand up to the cash register, paid for it and wrote a quick message to Emma. His journey to the pub after dropping the envelope in the mail took him past the wine bar. He picked up another of the flyers from the gutter along the way. This time he hung on to it. He had a thing about littering, especially in his town.

Wayne was setting out a sandwich board on the footpath. His shaved head gleamed in the sun and he wore a black polo shirt revealing a thick gold chain around his neck. “G’day. How’s it going?”

“Getting ready for your big opening, I see.” Darcy glanced through the big plate-glass window at the finished decor. He had to admit, now that it was finished, the effect was appealingly lush and decadent, like a fin de siècle Paris bistro. “The place looks very...comfortable.”

“If the customers are comfortable, they’ll stick around longer, and drink and eat more.”

Darcy handed him the flyer. “I found this down the road. There are quite a few of them floating around.”

Wayne waved it away, completely missing his point. “Keep it. Come on by opening night. First glass of wine is on the house for local business owners.”

Darcy crumpled the slip of paper in his fist. “Thanks, but I’ll be working, keeping my customers happy so they don’t all end up at your wine bar.”

Wayne laughed. “Hey, you’re a funny guy. I can see we’re going to be friends.” He started to go inside then paused. “Not a lot of parking around here, is there? Mostly just lining the street.”

“It’s not usually a problem at night. There’s an overflow lot farther down, next to the dog park.”

“I don’t want people to have to walk too far, especially if it’s raining.” He tipped his head, a calculating gleam in his eye. “You’ve got parking behind the pub, don’t you?”

“It’s a small lot.” And it was his. He’d bought the land, had it paved and marked, and he maintained it for his customers. “It fills quickly with pub customers.”

“Right.” Wayne cocked a finger and pointed it at Darcy. “Gotcha.”

Darcy stepped away. “I’ll let you go. I’m sure, like me, you have plenty to do.”

He walked back to the pub fuming. The man’s friendly-like-a-shark demeanor was annoying. What really got Darcy’s goat was Wayne’s shifty and calculating account of the way he’d come to Summerside for a tax dodge and was deliberately going after a rich clientele.

Really? Darcy brought himself up short. Wasn’t that how successful businessmen operated? Not him, of course. He wasn’t cutthroat. He liked to make a living doing a job he enjoyed and seeing his customers happy.

Maybe that wasn’t enough anymore. For the first time, he had to admit, he was a tad worried.

* * *

THIRTY-SIX YEARS OLD. She was practically Methuselah. Emma splashed cold water on her face after work, resisting the urge to flop on the couch and watch trashy reality TV. In spite of her fatigue, she really didn’t want to miss her birthday party.

Going to the new wine bar in Summerside was Alana’s idea. Emma didn’t feel right about patronizing Darcy’s competition. Not that he had anything to worry about. The pub did a roaring business, if his constant presence there when they were married was anything to go by. Besides, Darcy wasn’t worried. He never worried about anything.

She, on the other hand, worried about everything. And she had good reason to. What had possessed her to begin a master’s degree and continue to work while she was pregnant? The hospital was okay with her taking time off for the birth—that was part of maternity leave. But university continued regardless of major life events like having a baby. She had three exams at the end of the month and a major term paper due the same week the baby was due.

Add in that she was as big as a house and tired to boot and life was catching up with her. All she wanted to do was crawl beneath the covers and go to sleep for a week. Instead she had to put on makeup and something nice to wear and go out to a wine bar on opening night. She couldn’t drink. It would be crowded and noisy. What was Alana thinking?

She sighed. Alana was no doubt thinking Emma and her friends would love the wine bar. Her sister had gone to a lot of trouble to make Emma’s birthday special. Tracey had let it slip there was a cake, prearranged with the owner to be delivered to their table while the jazz pianist played a cool rendition of the birthday song.

As wonderful as it sounded, it all felt like too much. Too many people, too much noise, too much entertainment. There would be a million people there besides her small group of friends and her sister.

But she couldn’t let Alana down. They’d grown close again in the past six months, spending regular evenings together, just the two of them. Alana seemed as committed as Emma was to repairing their relationship. They even went grocery shopping together. Emma loved the time they spent by themselves, plus it meant she didn’t have to lie to Dave about Alana going to work.

When she’d talked to Alana earlier in the week her sister had hinted at some news. She wouldn’t go into detail over the phone, and Emma couldn’t tell if she was excited or anxious because she was whispering so Dave didn’t hear her.

Emma dried off and went into her bedroom to dress. Darcy’s card stood on her dresser along with the rest of her birthday cards. An elephant. Was that a not-so-subtle allusion to her size? Even if not, it was a bit tactless but he probably didn’t intend to be mean. When she’d been pregnant with Holly he’d loved her round figure, telling her she was sexier than ever. But he’d been in love with her then. Now he sent her cartoon cards with no more sentiment than a kindly uncle. His occasional phone calls left her with a longing for more contact. They made her feel so weepy and upset that she invariably cut them short.

When she arrived at the wine bar, the street parking was completely full. She cruised past the brightly lit bar. Despite the coolness of the evening, people spilled out of the open door onto the sidewalk with their glasses and small paper plates piled with finger food.

She circled the block twice and finally went around the rear of the pub. Even though the lot was restricted to pub-goers she was pretty sure some wine bar patrons must be using it. Cars were double-parked. She couldn’t recall that ever happening before.

She squeezed her turquoise Holden Barina into a tiny space between the last spot and a gum tree. Hopefully Darcy would cut her some slack on her birthday.

Hurrying around the building, she pulled her scarf closer against the chilly wind. She glanced inside the pub as she passed the door. She should tell Darcy what she’d done, but he was serving a customer. Besides, her friends were waiting and she was already late, so she kept going.

Alana, Barb, Sasha and Tracey were already inside when she arrived. They all hugged her and fussed over her, making sure she had a seat and a glass of nonalcoholic wine that tasted as good as the real thing.

Emma relaxed on the plush comfortable couch. Surrounded by friends, with delectable tapas appearing regularly, her fatigue and her worries fell away.

The evening flew past. The piano was just the right soothing tinkle in the background and the atmosphere convivial without being overpowering. Then the cake came out and the entire room sang to her.

Emma smiled and swallowed and blew her nose. It was okay to feel a little weepy. She was hormonal, after all. Her sudden attack of the blues had nothing to do with the fact that the only person missing of the people she cared about—besides her parents—was Darcy.

* * *

TONY SLID ONTO ONE of the empty stools at the bar. “That new wine bar’s going off like a frog in a sock.”

“So I noticed.” Darcy would have to be blind and deaf not to notice the happy wine-quaffing revelers across the street. He reached for a beer mug and filled it at the draft spigot with Tony’s usual drink, Tasmanian Tiger lager.

“They’re making a bloody mess,” Tony said. “The little paper plates they’re serving food on are all over the place.” He reached for his draft, took a long sip then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m surprised you’re not complaining.”

“Things will settle down after tonight.” But it was annoying. Litter from the wine bar was being blown onto his side of the street and collecting against the brick wall of the pub. Twice now he’d gone out to clean it up.

Half of his parking lot was taken up by wine bar customers. He’d noticed it when someone had complained about being blocked in. What was he going to do, call the cops and get everyone pissed at him? It was the wine bar’s opening night and he was making allowances, but this better not continue.

Even Emma had parked there. He knew her turquoise Barina by the dainty metal chimes dangling from the rearview mirror. That she’d chosen to go to the wine bar on her birthday instead of the pub didn’t exactly shock, but it stung a little. She hadn’t even stopped in to say hello.

The pub, normally packed on a Friday evening, was only half-full. Business was so slow that Kirsty, Elise and his weekend bartender, Brad, were able to handle the drinks by themselves. Just as well. For once Darcy wasn’t in the mood to chat or make jokes or entertain his customers with his cocktail-making skills.

Instead he sat at a table with his laptop and opened up his online banking account. He’d accepted that it was too soon to pay child support. After all, the baby wasn’t even born yet. So he’d started a college fund and was making regular payments into that. He’d never set up a college fund for Holly. Why was he doing it for this baby? Out of guilt, to make up for not being a husband to Emma and a proper father to the baby? Or was he simply trying to have a connection with Emma?

He couldn’t stop thinking about her and about the night they spent together on the cruise ship. Before he’d run into her, he’d hoped and expected that the cruise would ease his way back into the dating scene. Instead it had the opposite effect. He hadn’t been with anyone else since that night. He’d lost interest in flirting. If a woman he met in the bar or at a friend’s house got too interested, he politely moved away. It was driving him crazy. The last thing he wanted was to be hung up on his ex-wife.

Emma walked into the pub around eleven o’clock. Even knowing she was seven months pregnant, Darcy wasn’t prepared for the sight of her round swollen belly, clearly defined by her blue dress. Her face had rounded, too, softened by the few extra pounds she’d gained in pregnancy. Nor was he prepared for the way she made him feel protective and resentful at the same time.

“Hey, Emma.” He closed his laptop. “It’s nice of you to patronize my establishment, especially tonight when I’m competing with the wine bar opening.”

A pink flush crept up her neck into her cheeks. “I, uh, I’ve just come from there. Um...someone’s blocking my car in your parking lot. A black Hilux with lights across the roof.”

“You parked in my lot and went to the wine bar.”

“Darcy, I’m sorry. I know it was shabby of me.” She pushed back the red hair curling loosely about her shoulders. “The venue was Alana’s choice. She organized the party. I shouldn’t have parked in your lot. I just...” She waved a hand, looking beautiful and tired, as if at any moment she would be on her knees with fatigue.

Darcy pulled out a chair at his table. “Sit down. The Hilux is Tony’s. I’ll get him to move it. If you give me your keys, I’ll bring your car around. I see a parking spot has opened up.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s not a big deal.” He dragged another chair over. “Put up your feet.”

Emma sank onto the chair and slipped off her shoes before settling them on the other seat with a sigh. She handed him her keys. “Thanks, Darcy.”

Darcy found Tony at his usual corner table in the back of the room with his girlfriend. “Tony, can you move your truck? You’re blocking Emma.”

“Sure thing.” The tattooed brickie dug in his jeans pocket for his keys. “Emma doesn’t usually come in here. Are you two back together?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate. Many of his regulars knew Emma and knew about the divorce. But this new development—her having his baby and them not being together—didn’t reflect well on either of them, in his opinion. He didn’t like to think of her as the subject of gossip, even though she, not he, would undoubtedly get the sympathy.

Not that she needed anyone’s sympathy. Emma was the most confident, organized person he knew and if anyone could successfully raise a child by herself, it would be her. But some people might not see being a single mother as something to celebrate. Frankly, despite his respect for Emma’s parenting skills, he was one of those people who thought kids should have two parents.

On the other hand he didn’t agree with continuing a relationship for the sake of a child, either. His brother Mike had stuck out an unhappy marriage for ten years before finally splitting up with his wife. Before that, the tension hadn’t been good for him, his wife or for their kids.

Cool winter air penetrated Darcy’s light pullover as he wove his way through the jammed-in cars. His lot had parking for twenty cars. There had to be thirty in here. He could imagine the double-parking offenders saying to themselves, Darcy’s so easygoing—he won’t mind. And they could be forgiven for thinking that. Every year at the annual Summerside Fete he opened his parking lot to all comers and even got one of his staff to act as a parking valet, purely out of community spirit. But making it easier for Wayne to take business away from the pub? There was a limit to his altruism.

Emma was sipping chamomile tea when he got back from retrieving her car. He sat and slid her keys across the scarred wood table. “How are you feeling?”

She slanted him a wry look over her mug. “As big as an elephant.” His sheepishness must have shown because she smiled. “I appreciate the thought behind the card.” She pressed a hand to her chest and stifled a burp. “I didn’t think you would mark the occasion.”

“You’re still my friend, Emma.” And the mother of his child. Children. “Have you been eating spicy food?”

“Buffalo wings.” She groaned. “I know they’re bad for me but I can’t help myself.”

“So the food wasn’t very good?” he asked hopefully.

“It was fantastic. They had all these different types of tapas, all free. Chorizo sausage—” she burped again “—frittata, shrimp fritters, patatas bravas, artichokes with jamon.”

“Naturally you had to try them all.”

“I am eating for two. Spicy tapas aside, the heartburn seems worse this time around. I never had this much trouble when I was pregnant with Holly.”

“Oh? Remember the time we drove up the coast highway to Byron Bay and we stopped for fish and chips?”

Her face lit at the memory of the trip they’d taken when Emma was four months pregnant with Holly. They’d been young and deliriously happy, eating their simple meal on the beach while the sun set. They’d talked till the stars came out, planning their baby’s future. Later, they’d made love in the tent to the soft shush of the waves lapping the sand.

Emma’s smile faded, as if she was now remembering all the bad stuff that had happened since then. “You’re right. I got indigestion pretty bad that night.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything going okay with you and the baby?”

“Fine. Everything’s fine.”

“You look tired.”

“I’m always tired these days. But honestly, I’m fine.” She grimaced again and pressed a hand to the top of her round belly.

“That heartburn must be bad.”

“It’s not that. She’s kicking. Ow. Right under the rib cage. Thanks Ivy.”

“You’ve named her Ivy. Do you know it’s a girl?” She’d named her without his input. That made him feel strange...and kind of uncomfortable to have that taken away from him. But he’d made his decision. He couldn’t have it both ways.

“Ow. Yup. I haven’t had any tests, but I’m pretty positive she’s a girl. And a feisty little thing.”

So Emma was going by intuition. Or was that wishful thinking, a desire to turn back time and have a little girl again? As Darcy watched the material over her baby bump rippled. What would it be like to press his palm against the hard curve of her belly and feel the baby moving beneath her skin? His baby.

“Do you want to feel?” Emma asked.

Yes. No. I don’t know.

“Nah, that’s okay.” He clenched his fist in his lap, resisting the urge to reach out. There was no point getting attached to this kid, since he wouldn’t be part of its life. Emma and the baby were a unit, the same way she and Holly had been. He was on the outside, as usual. This time, though, he had the sense to know that was for the best.

“I’ve been adding to the baby’s college fund. After it’s born I’ll pay a fortnightly sum straight into your bank account. You need to give me your account details soon.” He glanced over her stomach. “It’s not that far away, right?”

“A month and a half. But Darcy—”

“I’ll let my parents know, too. Birthday, Christmas, if anyone can’t think of a present for the baby—”

“Darcy! Slow down and listen for a change. Why are you doing this? Do you think you can let yourself off the daddy hook by throwing money at the baby?”

“According to you, I’m not on any hook.”

“You’re not. But I know you and your sense of responsibility. How can I convince you that the baby and I don’t need you?” She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t mean that the way it sounded, ungrateful and harsh. But you don’t want another child. And I don’t want you to feel obligated in any way.”

“Emma, I know you. You have this need to prove you can be a supermum, able to do it all and then some. You think you have to be perfect. You don’t. Let me help. I can be like a...a silent partner.”

“I don’t want a silent partner. It’s all or nothing. And I know you can’t give me and the baby your all, so it has to be nothing.”

“Why? Why can’t I contribute so I know he or she is okay?”

“I love that you’re so responsible, but it’s not only about responsibility. It’s also about being present in my child’s life. What if one day you wake up and realize what you’re missing and decide you do want to be a father? Fine, I let you into our lives. But then maybe after a while you won’t be able to handle being a father anymore, or we can’t work out our problems, and then what? You don’t get to opt in and out when you feel like it. This is my child. I’m taking sole responsibility for it. I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m doing this because I want to protect my child’s emotional future.”

He stared at her. My child. How many times had she said those words in that little speech? Three, four? She was staking her claim. She hadn’t made the decision to raise the child by herself because he wasn’t stepping up. She was doing it because she really, truly wanted to raise the child without him.

The implications sank in. Even if he did want to be part of the baby’s life, she wouldn’t ever let him. He’d wanted it this way, so he had no right to feel hurt, or angry at her selfishness. But it was depressing, thinking she had to protect her child from him.

Grimly he nodded, acknowledging he had no choice but to accept her decree.