Maybe This Time (8 page)

“Only because you’re adamant you don’t want another child. If I thought for one second—” She broke off. Their marriage was finished. There was no point holding out hope for reconciliation simply because she was having his baby. Especially when their conflicting desires regarding babies had torn them apart in the first place.

“I’m not ready for another child. I haven’t gotten over Holly yet.” Quietly, he added, “If I ever will.”

“You won’t unless you work through your guilt.”

He pressed fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t on the spot. There’s nothing I could have done.”

In other words, she was to blame. Is that what he was saying? “Go ahead...you keep telling yourself that. But just ask yourself, why have you given up drinking?”

“I wanted to lose some weight, get healthier.” He shrugged, apparently bewildered at her question. “Alcohol dependency is an occupational hazard in my job. I didn’t want it to get the better of me.”

“You weren’t an alcoholic.”
She turned away, breathing out the tightness. “You haven’t got a clue. And yet you come here and lecture me.”

Silence settled over the room.

“You still cry over her,” he said at last, gently.

“I will cry over her for the rest of my days.” The words tore out of her. “It doesn’t mean I can’t love another child and have joy in my life.” Her throat closed and she had to take a breath, clearing away the huge ache in her chest. Of course she was still emotional about Holly. Who wouldn’t be? A mother didn’t forget, ever, losing a child. But that didn’t mean there was something wrong with her, as he seemed to think.

“I don’t want to have these conversations anymore,” she continued, her voice stronger. “I’m happy for the first time in eighteen months. I get that you don’t want to be part of this. That’s fine, believe me. More than fine.”

“What does your family think?”

“Alana’s thrilled for me.”

“Really?”

“With a few reservations,” Emma admitted. “But you know how cautious she is. She doesn’t like any sort of risk.”

“Alana, cautious? I think you’re mixing her up with yourself. You don’t do anything without having all your ducks lined up and ironclad safeguards that nothing will go wrong or fail. Why else do you think I’m worried about your mental and emotional state? Lots of women have a baby on their own, but for you it’s risk taking. It’s out of character.”

He was right. Before she embarked on any new course of action she did her research. And she had. She knew babies back to front. But no amount of research could alter the fact that life had thrown her a curveball. Her baby’s conception hadn’t been planned, and everything that happened next would be unknown and therefore very scary.

“Doesn’t that show you how much I want this baby?” The tremor was back in her voice. “What can I be
but
a single mother? I’m pregnant, with no partner.”

He got to his feet, took a few paces and stopped in front of her. “Have you thought about—”

“Oh, no. You better not be about to say what I think you’re going to say.”

“You could consider it. It’s not a bad solution.”

“Not in a million years would I do that. If you say another word, I’ll throw you out.”

“Don’t reject the idea out of hand. I know you’re a private person but having other people around, especially a woman in the same situation as you, can be a support.”

“A woman...?” She frowned. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“Sharing a house with another single mother and her kid or kids. What did you think I meant?”

“Oh.” She pressed a hand to her forehead and sank onto the couch. “I thought— Never mind.”

He stared at her. Then shook his head as he got it. “Oh, Em, I know you better than that.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Darcy said quietly. “I thought you knew me better than that, too.”

She turned to the window and gazed out at the view of the bay, the merest glimpse of blue between the trees. Okay, the thought of terminating the pregnancy had crossed her mind—once—in the dark hours of the night when she was feeling scared and vulnerable and
alone.
She’d lain awake wondering how she was going to manage on her own. But that was just night terrors. By morning her fears had evaporated and she’d once again felt happy knowing she would be a mother again.

Darcy picked up a plush teddy bear from the carpet. The bag of baby things she’d bought earlier had fallen open. Emma hadn’t been able to resist even though it would be months before the baby was born. All Holly’s toys had gone to a church bazaar. He smoothed the bear’s fur. “I want you to be happy, Em.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. His good wishes meant a lot to her. But she was so mixed-up, one minute angry with him, the next minute wishing they could still be a family. She had to get
that
notion right out of her head.

“What did your parents say?” Darcy asked.

“I sent an email but I haven’t heard back yet. They’re on the road, somewhere near Darwin, out of phone range.” She sighed. “You know them. No doubt you can predict their reaction.”

“Your mother will be excited but your father will worry about you. He didn’t have anything good to say when your cousin had a baby on her own a couple of years ago.”

“What about your family? What’s their reaction?” He was silent. “Oh, my God. You haven’t told them yet.”

“It’s only been a week. I haven’t seen them.”

“Your father is in the pub every week.”

“Yeah, well, I need to think about how to tell them. They took our divorce pretty hard.” Darcy ran a hand through his hair. “This whole situation is unexpected.”

“It’s not going to get any easier. Just tell them.” She paused, suddenly understanding his reticence. “You know they’ll be thrilled. You’re just afraid they’ll pressure you to reconcile with me.” Was he also afraid he might be tempted? “Don’t worry. I’ll set them straight on that score.” The last thing she wanted was to reunite only because their families wanted it.

“I’ll talk to them soon.” He studied her face. “You look tired. I’d better go.” Then he paused. “Before I do, is there anything you need?”

Oh. The electrical outlet in the nursery wasn’t working. But she couldn’t ask... “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Your eyes flickered. What is it?”

“It’s all right. I’ll call an electrician—”

“Those guys charge an arm and a leg and take a week to come. Where is it?”

“If you really don’t mind... The socket in the spare room sparks when I plug something in.”

“I’ll have a look.” He offered without hesitation which was to his credit, given she hadn’t exactly welcomed him into her home. That was the great thing about Darcy; he was always ready to lend a hand to anyone who needed it. Including her.

“This way.” Emma reached for the bags and carried them across the foyer and down the short hall to the second bedroom. She was practical but some things, like electrical problems, were beyond her. His steady footsteps behind her were comforting. She shouldn’t like that he was taking charge. But she did.

* * *

D
ARCY FOLLOWED,
half wishing he hadn’t agreed to look at the outlet because he had to get to the pub. But Emma needed his help. She was one of the most competent people he knew, but like a lot of women she didn’t know how to handle tools. That wasn’t being sexist, simply stating a fact. Even though they weren’t together he still felt responsible for her. Holly had tied them together and now this baby was another link. He had mixed feelings about that. He couldn’t imagine life without Emma in it. On the other hand, how would he ever move on if he kept seeing her?

The new-paint smell hit him as he stepped in the doorway. He stopped dead, his gaze sweeping the room. The walls were a pale yellow below a frieze of colorful balloons. He took in the white-painted cot, matching dresser and changing table.

This wasn’t a spare room. It was a nursery.

He hadn’t been prepared for baby furniture. Or for the tightness in his chest. Or the flash recall of Holly, her bright hair and gurgling smile, as she played peekaboo through the bars of her crib.

He didn’t usually allow himself to think about her. Holly was gone. Never coming back. There was no point in torturing himself. Love and happiness were ghosts. They flitted in and out of his life, haunting him with memories and taunting him with unfulfilled dreams.

“Darcy?” Emma was looking at him strangely.

He shook his head, banishing the image. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

“It’s this socket next to the dresser. I want to put a lamp here for when the baby wakes in the night.” Emma dropped the bags on a toy chest with a padded lid that doubled as a bench seat. “When I tried to plug it in, the outlet crackled.”

“Have you got a screwdriver?”

“In the laundry room. Hang on a tick.” She hurried out of the room.

Darcy pushed aside the bags and sat on the toy box. Though he tried to block the memory of Holly, traces lingered like cobwebs in the dark corners of his mind. In the weeks before she’d died, she’d started climbing out of her crib. Emma had wanted to get her a child’s bed. She’d been after him to go look for one. He hated malls and had put her off, and put her off. In the end, he’d gone shopping with her—not for a bed but for a coffin.

He pressed fingers to the inner corners of his eyes.

“Will these do?” Emma entered and handed him a set of screwdrivers in a folding plastic case.

He grunted, not trusting his voice, and kneeled to unscrew the faceplate. Carefully, he prodded the wires with a fingertip. “The connection is loose. If you can turn the power off, I’ll tighten these wires.”

“I think the switchboard is in the residents’ garage. Tell me which switch to flip and I’ll do it.”

“The main breaker. It should be labeled. I’ll go.” Anything to get out of this room so he could breathe. He was on his feet and heading out the door in seconds.

“You’ll need the key to get into the garage.” She came after him and fished in her purse for a set of keys. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” He swallowed, hating that she’d seen him react to the baby things. It made him feel weak.

He went to the garage, flipped the breaker then came back up, using her keys to get into the apartment. Tightening the wires took only a few minutes. He’d learned a few basic skills of the trade from his older brother Dan, an electrician. They came in handy when things needed fixing around the pub.

As he worked, he could hear Emma in the kitchen, moving around, running water. It was almost like the old days, at their home. Doggedly he pushed those thoughts away, too, and turned on the flashlight Emma had set on the carpet by the outlet. Nostalgia was a trap that would be easy to fall into, but it didn’t make the bad stuff go away. The fighting and the tears, the words that could never be unsaid. Those memories were burned into his brain, too.

He put the faceplate on and put away the screwdrivers. Then he went out to flip the breaker on and returned a few minutes later to the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee.

Emma appeared in the foyer as he shut the door. “Do you want a cuppa? It’s decaf.”

“No, I have to get to the pub.” Seeing the strain in the faint lines of her face he forgot about himself and his feelings. “Anything else I can do?”

“No, that’s it.” She straightened her shoulders and smiled. Then she touched his arm. “I really appreciate this. Thanks.”

“It’s nothing. Look, Em, I don’t agree with what you’re doing.” Her smile faded. “But I am going to support you and the baby.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve decided I won’t name you as father on the birth certificate. That way Child Services won’t be able to come after you for support payment.”

That took his breath away. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she wouldn’t name him as father. Knowing there would be a blank line where his name should appear...well, he didn’t like the idea one bit. Nor did he like the idea of the baby seeing that blank line when he or she grew up. It was almost as if Darcy didn’t exist. Or that he’d abandoned the child.

“You can raise the baby any way you want,” he said. “It’s yours. I won’t interfere. But I
will
do the responsible thing for any child of mine.” She opened her mouth to protest and he raised a hand to stop her. “I’ll do it because I want to and because it’s right, not because Child Services tells me I have to.”

“You can’t have it both ways, not being an active father and also getting to have a say in whether you’re named on the birth certificate.”

She had him there. “Clearly you hold all the cards,” he said tightly. “You do what you think best.”

“Darcy, I wish...” She spread her hands. “I don’t even know what I want to say. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

He wished it didn’t have to be this way, too. He’d give anything to turn back the clock if only he knew how. He would even go on that damn picnic if it meant he could do over that day and Holly would still be alive.

“Don’t say anything.” His voice turned gruff. Something—nostalgia, again?—made him lean in and kiss her on the cheek. Feeling her soft skin beneath his lips, breathing in the clean scent of her, he wanted to slide his hands inside her silky blouse—the one he’d given her that Christmas—and feel the heat of her body. He wanted to angle his face and put his mouth on hers and deepen the kiss.

But he didn’t. If the past wasn’t enough to stop him, now he had the future child to deter him, as well. There could be no going back for him and Emma, no second chance. He would not touch her or kiss her or any of the things his body was begging him to do.

“I’ll see you.” When, he had no idea. He made himself step back, turn the door handle and leave. Walking away from her right that minute felt like one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

He punched the button on the elevator at the end of the hall. Damn thing must be broken. The light seemed to be stuck two floors above on five. He hit the button again. If he had to stand here one more second, he might turn around, take her in his arms and make the second biggest mistake of his life—the first being sleeping with her after their divorce.