Maybe This Time (11 page)

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Authors: Joan Kilby

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BOOK: Maybe This Time
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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.

* * *

T
ONY 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?”

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