Maybe This Time (10 page)

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

D
ARCY 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.

* * *

T
HIRTY-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.