And Then Forever (13 page)

Still, Darcy hesitated. She knew what Edgar Foster was like, and doubted there was any chance he had become a changed man. If she involved Kincaid, she was still taking a monumental risk. Now that the moment was here, the decision at hand, Darcy couldn’t quite put that foot forward all the way. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be a part of her life. I just worry about her, Kincaid. I want to be sure that every decision I make is the best one. Not all my choices in life have been…smart.” Her eyes welled, and her heart squeezed. Just the mere thought of losing Emma made Darcy stop breathing. “She’s everything to me.”

He reached out and took her hand. It was a touch of comfort, understanding, and Darcy curled her fingers over his. “None of us has made all the right choices, Darcy. You just do the best you can. And from what I saw of Emma, you’ve done a great job.”

Darcy scoffed. “Some people would say I’m the last person who should be a mother.”

“Why? Because you’re a little wild? A little unpredictable?” He grinned. “That’s what I always liked best about you. And if you ask me, kids need parents who aren’t so rigid and distant.”

She laughed. “No one would use either of those words to describe me.”

“That’s good,” Kincaid said softly, “because the last thing I’d ever want is a child of mine to have the upbringing I did.”

Those were the words that finally made up Darcy’s mind, and pushed her to take that last step instead of hesitating any longer. If she kept Kincaid out of their daughter’s life, she’d be the same kind of controlling parent that Edgar had been. She could see the scars of Kincaid’s childhood in his face, and knew she couldn’t do that to Emma, too.

“Come by tomorrow morning after ten,” she said. “We’ll go to the beach.”

Kincaid grinned. “I guess I better brush up on my sandcastle building skills.”

“And your Barbie voices. Emma really likes to play pretend family.”

That made him laugh. “I don’t think I can reach Barbie octaves.”

“You’ll learn, Kincaid,” Darcy said, laying a hand on top of his, praying she was making the right decision. “You’ll learn.”

K
incaid woke up at
five the next morning, more nervous about the day to come than he had been about taking the bar or arguing his first case before a judge. He swung his legs out of bed, pulled on some shorts and, instead of heading into the kitchen for coffee, he pulled out his laptop.

It had been so long—too long—since he had powered up the machine to write something other than a legal brief. He opened the word processing program, scrolled through some of the older files on the hard drive, then finally opened a new document. He started writing, fashioning the beginnings of a legal thriller about a perjured witness and a man wrongly framed for a crime. An hour later, Kincaid sat back and looked at what he’d written. It wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.

He stretched, then headed into the kitchen to brew some coffee. Abby was already up, her feet propped on the opposite chair, a mug of tea before her. The soft light of the lamp on the table offset the early morning dark, and gave Abby’s white robe a golden hue.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He turned to the pot, filled it with water and several scoops of coffee, then set it to brew. He resisted the urge to just stand under the percolator and drink each drop as it came out of the pot. 

“I heard your fingers typing away down the hall. Work? Or play?”

He shrugged. “I started something new. I don’t know where it will go.”

“I’m glad, Kincaid. You are an awesome writer. Maybe you should send out some of those novels you’ve finished.”

“Novels, plural?” He chuckled. “Try one and a half. As to sending it out…I don’t know. Maybe. What are you doing up so early? Aren’t pregnant women supposed to get as much sleep as possible?”

“This little one,” Abby ran a hand over her stomach and smiled that sweet smile she got whenever she talked about her baby, “has decided she’s an early riser.”

“Or
he
might be a light sleeper.” Kincaid watched his sister, the pure love that radiated on her face, the protective touch she had on her belly, and he wondered if Darcy had been the same way when she was pregnant. He couldn’t imagine brash, wild Darcy in a mother hen kind of mood, but then again, he’d never imagined that Darcy would have a child—his child. Still, watching Abby made him wish he hadn’t missed those days when she was pregnant. Would he have felt the baby kick against her stomach? Put his ear against her belly and heard the baby’s heart?

Or would he have abandoned her, a scared man barely out of his teens, who had college and a career and expectations ahead of him? He’d like to think he would have done the right thing, but the truth was, he had no idea. All he could do was the right thing from this day forward.

Abby laughed. “You keep insisting that it’s going to be a boy. I think we need to make a bet.”

“A bet?” The coffeepot had brewed enough for the first cup, so Kincaid pulled out the pot, poured a mug, and sat down across from his sister. “As in money?”

She waved that off. “I think our lives have been too much about money, don’t you? Let’s bet something more fun. Like…” she put a finger to her lips and thought, “a month of dirty diaper changing.”

He laughed. “You get that regardless.”

“Oh, not if you lose, and this baby is a girl. Then I’m going to lay around on the sofa and let you do all the diaper changing.”

He raised his mug toward hers, and they clinked. “Deal. And I’m only making that agreement because I’m so sure that you’re having a boy.”

Abby rolled her eyes, and sipped at her tea. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Is that code for you want breakfast and you’re hoping I’ll make it?”

“Well, I am busy growing a human here.” She put a hand on her belly again. “That takes a lot out of a girl.”

“I bet it does.” Had Darcy worked through her pregnancy? He could only imagine how demanding waitressing would be—being on her feet all day, running from kitchen to dining room, working late nights—and once again, wished he had been there so he could pick up the slack. Let her stay home and grow a human, as Abby had said, while he supported them.

He crossed to the refrigerator, pulled out butter, eggs and some fruit, then set to work scrambling some eggs and pouring them into a pan. He kept his back partly to Abby while he stirred the eggs and waited on some toast to pop. “So, I think you have to have a boy,” he said, “because I need a nephew to balance the equation. Considering I just found out I have a daughter already.”

There was a moment of silence while those words sank in, then Abby gasped. “Wait. What? Did you just say you have a
daughter
?”

Kincaid nodded. It was the first time he’d spoken the words aloud, and they felt foreign on his tongue, as if he was learning a new language.
I have a daughter.
Just the thought filled him with joy and fear, all at the same time. Could he be a good father? “Darcy had a baby six years ago. And never told me.”

“Wait a second.” Abby shook her head. “I’m trying to take this in. Darcy had a baby,
your baby,
and never said a word? And you found out
yesterday
?”

He explained about running into the little girl on the beach, how reluctant Darcy had been to bring him into Emma’s life, and about their conversation last night. “But I get the feeling she would rather I stay away,” he said. “I don’t think she wants me to have anything to do with Emma.”

“I don’t understand that. I mean, you’re a great guy.” Abby grinned. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re pretty much a superhero in my eyes.”

“All those pregnancy hormones are definitely mellowing you out.” Kincaid shuffled the cooked eggs onto plates. “This, from the same person who once hit me in the head with a soup ladle?”

“I didn’t say you were
always
a great guy. You were a terrible kid.”

The toast popped, so Kincaid buttered it, then flanked the eggs with the bread and some diced fruit. He put some cheese on Abby’s eggs, and waited a moment for it to melt before he put the plate on the table. He loved teasing Abby, and wondered if someday down the road Darcy and he could have another child…whoa. That was getting way too far ahead. He needed to deal with the one child first. And figure out exactly how he was going to do this parenting thing, and hopefully do it better than his parents had. “You’re lucky I’m feeding you,” he teased.

“Me and your niece-to-be.” Abby picked up the fork and dove in, forking up a huge bite. She chewed, then swallowed. “Oh my. These are so good. I am going to miss eating like this after the baby comes. Then I’ll have to go back to eating for one. Eating for two is way more fun.”

Had Darcy been the kind to gain a lot of weight when she was pregnant, letting the baby give her more curves, that happy glow to her face? Or had she stayed as lean and trim as she was now, barely showing? He suddenly wanted to ask all those questions of Darcy. But the sun had yet to rise, and he didn’t think she’d be glad if he went over there now and started peppering her with questions.

“So, tell me about your daughter,” Abby said. “I still can’t believe it. What a shocker.”

“You and me both.”
Your daughter.
The words still sounded so foreign, so odd. But the more he heard them, the more they began to fit. “She’s almost six. She’s got my hair and my eyes, but Darcy’s smile and that little impish look in her eyes, like she’s about to get into a whole lot of trouble. She loves dogs and playing with dolls. And…that’s all I know so far.” He thought of how much more he needed to learn. If his daughter liked chocolate or vanilla ice cream. If she was scared of the dark or allergic to peanuts. “I’m going over to Darcy’s later this morning to spend the day on the beach with them.”

“That’ll be nice. Gee. So this makes me an aunt.”

“Indeed it does. Soon to be a mom yourself.”

“Well, I intend on spoiling my niece mercilessly.” Abby winked. “Speaking of spoiling, if you are going over there for the first time, you should bring something with you.” She waved her fork at him. “Pick her up a stuffed animal at that little shop on Main Street. You know, the one with the balloons painted on the windows? All kids love stuffed animals. It’s a good ice breaker.”

“Ice breaker?” He chuckled. “I don’t know if I need one of those with a six-year-old.”

“Mother always told us to never show up empty-handed to someone’s house. So bring her something.” Abby waved her fork at him. “And if you’re smart, you’ll bring something to win her mother’s heart, too.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Because you’re still half in love with Darcy. I can see it all over your face. Every time you mention her name, you get this little moony look in your eyes.”

He scoffed. “A moony look? Is that even a word?”

“It is if I say it is.” Abby grinned then took a big bite of toast. “Besides, I’m the pregnant one. I can get away with making up words and eating too much cheese.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are an annoying little sister?”

“Yup, my older brother.” She smirked. “Just before I hit him in the head with the soup ladle.”

*~*~*

K
incaid spent the hours
between breakfast and going to Darcy’s working around the cottage, finishing up a few more details for his sister. She had ordered a changing table and a rocker, both of which had come on the ferry early that morning, so he assembled those and set them in the nursery, too. Like the crib, they were made out of some thousand-pound, indestructible wood, but secretly, he was glad. He didn’t want his nephew to be rocked in or laid on top of something flimsy. To be safe, he double-checked all the screws connecting the pieces. After he was done, he dropped Abby off downtown for a checkup with a local doctor, then wandered down to the shop Abby had recommended.

The shopkeeper hurried up to him as soon as he entered, a little round O of surprise on her face at a solo man willingly coming into a store filled with toys and balloons and knick-knacks. “Good morning! How can I help you?”

“I’m, uh, looking for a toy for a little girl. Six years old. Something…nice.”

The woman started making her way down the aisle, with Kincaid following along behind. “Do you know what she likes? Horses? Kittens?”

He had no idea. He couldn’t tell the woman Emma’s favorite color or her most beloved toy’s name or even what cereal she had for breakfast. “She likes dogs,” he said. “And Barbie dolls.”

“Well, chances are she has more Barbie dolls than she knows what to do with.” The woman smiled. “Most little girls do. And I’m betting you don’t know which ones she has and which one she doesn’t?”

“Uh, there are different ones?”

The woman stifled a laugh. “Yes, I’m afraid there are. Hundreds.”

Good Lord, he was in over his head already and the day hadn’t even started. He thought back to his sister’s advice and figured that was the safest option overall. “How about a stuffed animal?”

“I have plenty of those. Let’s see what we’ve got.” She turned the corner into a small room at the rear of the shop. Hundreds of stuffed animals lined the wall, popping out of bins hanging off hooks on the lattice board. There were lions and tigers and elephants, in a sea of pastels that looked like some kind of furry rainbow. “Which one do you think she’d like?”

“I have no idea.” How did he explain to the woman that he didn’t even know his own child? That she could show him a thousand stuffed animals and he wouldn’t be able to pick the right one? He felt overwhelmed, debated leaving and forgetting the whole thing.

No. This was too important. He had six years to make up for, and if he didn’t think it would make Darcy run for the hills, Kincaid would have bought out all the inventory in the little shop and dropped it at Emma’s feet. “She likes dogs,” he said again. “Do you have a stuffed dog?”

“I think I do.” The woman dug through one bin, then another, and then finally in the third, she found a small stuffed cocker spaniel. It was the same color as Mooch, though a different breed. The stuffed version had big soulful brown eyes and a fluffy tail, and looked just the right size for Emma to tuck under one arm and tote around.

“Perfect,” Kincaid said. “Can you put a bow on it or something?”

The woman gave him one of those
oh-you-poor-man-shopping-for-this
smiles, and led the way back to the counter. “I certainly can.”

A few minutes later, he left the shop with a stuffed dog and a stuffed bear. At the last second, he’d decided on something for Abby’s baby, too. At least with his future nephew, he could start early.

Abby came out of the doctor’s office, her steps wider now, slower, with a little of that pregnancy waddle in her step. But she looked happy and relaxed, which was always good. For too many years, his sister’s face had been as tense as a stretched rubber band. She’d lost her sparkle, her wit, her strength, in her marriage to Gordon. But now, on her own, with the baby on the way, all that was coming back. It was good to see. Real good.

“Here, I got the little slugger something.” He held out the bear.

“It’s her first gift,” Abby said. She hugged it to her chest. “Thank you, Kincaid.”

“It’s
his
first gift,” Kincaid corrected. “Even has a blue bow tie and everything. You know, for a
boy.
”