Maybe This Time

by Joan Kilby

  Okay, that was crazy. When she was rational she knew she wasn’t being punished for choosing to keep her baby and raise him on her own. But in the wee hours, when she was dead on her feet and knowing she had to get up again at 6:00 a.m., her mind played funny tricks on her.

  She started another lap of the apartment.

  Yes, Holly had been a dream by comparison with Billy. And Emma had taken six months’ maternity leave with Holly. But this time, the hospital had reduced maternity pay due to funding cutbacks and Emma had needed to return to work early. Not only that but she had the added load of her studies. Which she loved. She wasn’t giving that up.

  She felt like a bad mother, a bad person. Selfish for wanting to do it all, resentful of Billy for not being as easy as Holly and guilty for even thinking mean thoughts about him.

  Billy was her responsibility, and no one else’s. That’s the way she wanted it. But she’d never expected it to be this hard. She’d sacrificed her marriage because she wanted another baby. Maybe she was being punished—

  Her foot came down on a magazine on the floor and slipped out from underneath her. With a strangled cry she held Billy up, out of harm’s way and went down hard on her rear end. Stunned, she sat among the mess, the wind knocked out of her and pain shooting up her spine.

  Billy was so startled he stopped crying. Emma broke into semihysterical laughter, and rocked back and forth, as much to distract herself from the pain as to comfort him. “Oh, Billy. Mummy’s going crazy.”

  He made a gurgling sound. She eased the blanket away from his face and he gave her a gummy, toothless smile. His first smile. A milestone that ought to fill her with joy. It didn’t.

  She felt no love gazing into his adorable face. Instead she had nothing but fatigue and anger and resentment for this creature who had turned her life upside down.

  “Oh, Billy.” The tears spilled down her cheeks. “It’s not you—it’s me. It’s because I’m so tired.”

  His face crumpled and he let out a cry. Here we go again. Leaning against the wall amid the rubble, she opened her nightgown and put him onto her breast, wincing as he latched on.

  More tears leaked from her eyes, not from the physical pain. On some deep level she knew she must love him but she didn’t feel it. She adored children. The best thing she’d ever done was be a mother to Holly. And now this. She didn’t understand it. She’d heard of other women not being able to bond with their children but never thought she would experience this...nothingness when she held her son.

  She had to believe she would change. But when? Until then, she would care for him because she had to. And try to hide the fact that she was the worst mother ever. What would Darcy think if he knew? Oh, he said he didn’t want a child, but he would be horrified if he could see her now, dreading every minute she had to spend with her baby.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “DARCY, PHONE FOR YOU,” Kirsty called above the noise of the pub. She picked up a tray and headed off to deliver the drinks.

  Darcy finished serving a customer and moved down the bar to pick up the landline. “Hello?”

  “Your father’s going into the hospital for his operation.” His mother sounded breathless, as if she was in a hurry. “We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

  “When’s the surgery?”

  “Tomorrow morning. He’s in Ward 5G North.”

  Darcy glanced around the pub. Not too busy but then it rarely was on a Monday night. “I’ll try to get in later to see him. Thanks for letting me know.” He hung up.

  Emma worked on the geriatric ward now. Could he call and ask her to check on his dad if she was on duty?

  No, that was the sort of thing you could ask a wife but not an ex.

  Anyway, she’d only given birth two months ago. She would still be off on maternity leave. He hadn’t seen or talked to her since the day her son had been born. But not a day had gone by that he hadn’t wondered how she and the baby were doing. He wished he could pretend William didn’t exist but that wasn’t in his DNA. He thought about his son every single day, as soon as he woke in the morning and the last thing before he went to sleep at night.

  An hour later Darcy stuffed a bottle of beer and a packet of chips in his pockets, left Kirsty in charge and headed to the hospital. He followed the green line down the corridor to Ward 5G North.

  At the nurses’ station Emma and her friend Tracey had their heads bent over a computer. She turned away to cough then reached for a tissue to blow her nose. He stayed back a little, waiting for them to finish so he could ask where his dad was. They hadn’t noticed him.

  Emma’s hair was clipped up, exposing the tiny mole on her neck he used to like to kiss. She laughed at something Tracey said, and Darcy smiled involuntarily. He used to think the whole world lit up when she smiled. He caught himself and his smile faded. On second thought, he didn’t want to talk to her, after all. He slipped unnoticed around the corner and went off to find his father.

  Roy was in a room with three other elderly men. Darcy’s mother sat in a chair at Roy’s bedside. They were watching a game show on TV. Darcy paused in the doorway, taking in the reality of his big bluff father looking far too frail plugged into an IV drip.

  “Mum, Dad.” Darcy kissed his mother on the cheek before taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed. He squeezed his dad’s hand then deposited the beer and the chips on the swing-arm table that held the remains of a half-eaten dinner.

  “Thanks, son.” Roy yelled at the TV, “Lake Louise.” Satisfied he’d gotten the answer right, he turned to Darcy. “No need for you to come down here. I’ll be home in a couple of days.”

  “He was mad at me for calling you. He didn’t want you to see him in the hospital,” Marge said in a stage whisper.

  “I’m not deaf, woman.”

  Darcy twisted the cap off the beer and handed it to his father. “Here, get your gob around that. Of course I’m going to see you the night before a big operation.”

  Marge frowned. “Darcy, I don’t think beer—”

  “I have until ten o’clock to eat and drink before I have to fast for the anesthetic.” Roy took a sip of beer. “As for the operation, it’s simple. Replace the ball and socket joint. A mechanic could do it.”

  “Maybe you’d like your mate Ralph to perform the surgery,” Darcy suggested dryly. “He probably still has all his tools.” He opened the packet of chips and set it where his dad could reach them.

  “What’s this, a party in Room 17?” Emma wheeled a trolley into the room. “Time for your meds, Roy. Sorry, but they don’t go so well with alcohol.” Tsking good-naturedly, she plucked the bottle out of his hand. Her gaze cut to Darcy. “You should know better.”

  Behind the disapproval there was a hint of a smile but also a wariness when she looked at him. Up close he could see how worn-out she looked. Her voice was hoarse as if she’d been coughing a lot. Again, she reached for a tissue and had to excuse herself to blow.

  “Have you got a cold?” he asked when she was done and rubbing her hands with sanitizer from a small container she’d pulled from her pocket. He was conscious that his mother was hanging on every word, every look that passed between them. His dad was still calling out answers to the game show. “You shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.”

  “I’m okay.” She didn’t seem to know where to look so she checked the watch pinned to her chest. “Family hours are nearly over.”

  “I’m going.” Darcy rose so his mother could have a few minutes alone with his dad. “See you tomorrow after your operation, Dad. Don’t give the nurses a hard time. Mum, call me and let me know how it goes.”

  “I will,” Marge promised.

  “Tell the boys at the pub I’ll be back next week,” Roy said. “I’ll challenge them to a footrace around the block.”

  “I’ll let them know to start training.” Darcy touched Emma’s arm as he passed. “Can I have a word?”

  “Sure.” She set a paper cup containing pills on Roy’s tray and pour
ed him a glass of water. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Darcy’s mother. “You could help him take those if you like.”

  He waited for Emma a few steps down the corridor, well aware Tracey watched him from the nurses’ station. He acknowledged her with a nod and turned away.

  Emma came out of the room striding briskly. Her steps slowed as she approached. “Before I forget, thanks for the flowers. I meant to send a note but things got crazy.”

  He was momentarily thrown. “Flowers?”

  “The ones you brought the day Billy was born.”

  “Billy. So that’s what you’re calling him.” Darcy moved to the side of the corridor as a couple went by. “How is he?”

  “He’s wonderful!” she said brightly. “Such a good baby. He smiled for the first time the other day.”

  “That must have been great.”

  A shadow momentarily dimmed her animated expression. Or it might have been the fluorescent lights flickering. Emma gave another brilliant smile but it didn’t erase the lines of strain around her eyes. “It was amazing,” she enthused. “I recorded it straight into the baby book.”

  “I’m surprised you’re at work. Shouldn’t you be on maternity leave?”

  “The hospital cut maternity pay. I could use the extra money so I’ve come back part-time.” Darcy’s mother came out of Roy’s room. Emma stepped back to let her go past. “Good night, Marge. I’ll take good care of him. Don’t worry.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Marge’s smile turned wistful. “I would love to see the baby sometime.”

  “Uh, yeah, sure. When I get my term paper finished. I’m flat out at the moment.” Emma brushed wisps of hair back from her eyes. “I don’t even have time to get my hair cut.”

  Marge glanced at Darcy then to Emma. “I’d be happy to babysit for you.”

  “That’s really nice of you. But I’ve got it under control, honestly. He spends so much time at the day care when I’m at university that I like to have him at home when I can.”

  Marge bit her lip, struggling to hide her disappointment. “If you need me, just call.” She hugged Darcy and walked quickly away toward the elevators.

  Darcy waited until his mother was out of earshot. He glanced over at the nurses’ station. People were moving through the open area—orderlies, visitors, nurses—but no one was paying attention to him and Emma.

  He turned to her. “Would it have hurt you to give her some time with her grandson? I don’t understand. You say you have everything under control but it sure doesn’t sound like it.” As she pulled a tissue out of her pocket, he added, “And you are sick. You shouldn’t be working.”

  Emma stiffened, her chin lifting. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re divorced. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m asking you to be nice to my mother. She’s the baby’s grandmother, after all. Your mother’s not around. My mum would be happy to stand in for her.”

  Emma didn’t reply.

  Hell. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her. He missed her like crazy. Everything was so messed up. He couldn’t stand that she was working too hard and wearing herself out. It wasn’t necessary. “I offered you support payments. You didn’t have to return to work yet.”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re afraid I’m not taking good enough care of our son. You’re afraid I’m neglecting him.”

  “What? Did I say that? I don’t think that at all.” He drew back. “You’re a terrific mother—”

  “I love him, okay? I love him to bits,” she added fiercely. “So you can just stay out of it.”

  “Emma?”

  “I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself. “We’ve had this conversation already. I’m too tired to do it again.”

  A tense silence sizzled between them. Emma glanced at the nurses’ station, at Roy’s room. Darcy knew she had tasks to do, but he didn’t want her to leave on a negative note.

  “I came here that day, the day he was born.” He didn’t know why he was telling her this. “There were so many people in your room, I didn’t stay.”

  She softened fractionally. “Did you see him?”

  Darcy nodded. Remembering the difficult emotions he’d struggled with that day, it was hard to talk about his son without feeling like a jerk. He went back to trying to help Emma. “You’re working too soon. Plus you’re studying, too. And looking after a baby. You don’t need to do all that. You could accept my help and stay home longer.”

  “I’m coping.”

  “Are you? Your eyes are all red as if you’ve been up half the night. All the time I’ve been standing here, you’ve had a crease between your eyebrows. And your voice is too tight.... You seem like you’re about to snap.”

  “Could that be because you’re criticizing me? You should go. This is my workplace. I don’t have time for personal conversations.”

  “It’s not criticism. It’s the truth. But for some reason you don’t want to hear it.”

  She stabbed a finger in his face. “You see me one time in months and you think you know what’s going on with me. Let me tell you, you don’t have a clue.”

  “I don’t know the details of your life right now, but I can guess. And I can see you’re upset and uptight. You are usually calm and in control.”

  “I have a new baby. And yes, I’m juggling work and school. It’s hard. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know how to let people help you.”

  “Money,” she said contemptuously. “That’s your idea of help. I don’t need money. I need practical assistance! I need someone to change a diaper, to help with the feeding, to give me a night off from the crying baby.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Just one goddamn night without the crying. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Whoa.” Darcy stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t want me to do anything with the baby but if you need help so badly, why didn’t you take up my mother’s offer?”

  “She’s too...close to you. I know she has a right, but I’m not ready.” Emma blotted her eyes with the already-soggy tissue. “I’m still mad at you basically. I wish you could be who I want you to be and I’m angry that you can’t. Or won’t.”

  Darcy let out a breath. This was emotionally exhausting for both of them. “I obviously struck a nerve a minute ago. Is the baby being difficult?”

  “His name is Billy, remember?” She shook his hand off. “He’s just being a baby, doing what babies do. Cry, eat, sleep, cry, eat, sleep, cry, cry.” Her voice had risen in pitch with each word. Suddenly she seemed to notice and stopped, her face paler. “I didn’t mean to say that. He’s fine. I wasn’t asking for your time.”

  “My mother—”

  “I like your mother a lot, but she would be subtly working to bring us back together for the sake of Billy. We both know that’s not a good idea.”

  “Something we agree on.” Darcy took a step back. “Okay, I’ll go. Try to take it easy. I’m sure you’re doing everything the baby needs and more. I was only saying you need to make sure you get enough rest or you’ll get really sick. And then what?”

  “Thanks for stating the obvious.” Again Emma touched the corners of her eyes with the soggy tissue.

  Ah, jeez. She never cried. Now she’d done it twice in the space of minutes. It undid him. “Don’t, Em.” He put his arms around her and drew her to him.

  “I’m on duty. You can’t hug me.” She tried to push him away.

  “Well, I am hugging you. What are you going to do about it?” He tightened his embrace. She didn’t resist but she didn’t go into his arms, either. “I’m sorry if I was harsh. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “I’m not crying. I’ve got a cold.”

  “What was I saying? You’re making yourself sick trying to do it all. Even you aren’t superwoman.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me some platitude like everything’s going to be
all right.” She sniffed.

  “It will be. Somehow.” He laid his head on top of her hair. For three long precious seconds he simply stood there and breathed her in.

  Then before he could kiss her, she pulled away. Just as well. It was better they kept their distance. She and the baby were a package deal. Take one, take the other.

  “If you change your mind about the money, you know where to contact me.”

  He turned and walked to the elevators. Emma had revealed a lot, either deliberately or accidentally. She wasn’t coping. The baby was difficult. But what was Darcy supposed to do about it? She didn’t want him in their life. He had no reason to feel guilty because he wasn’t doing more. She had no right to expect his practical help and he doubted she would take it if he offered. Something fundamental was broken between them, and a baby wasn’t going to fix it.

  * * *

  TYPICAL. DARCY SWOOPS IN, pats her on the head, tells her she’s doing a great job then disappears to the pub. No one could push her buttons like him. Why did they keep hurting each other? Why did he try to appeal to her emotions when what she needed was practical assistance?

  You told him you didn’t need or want him in your and Billy’s life, remember?

  Emma forced her focus on her work. She didn’t have time to stand around brooding. She was in the middle of her evening rounds. She went into Roy’s room.

  “Sorry, I got sidetracked with Darcy for a minute,” she said to Roy. “I see you’ve taken your pills. We’ll do your blood pressure now.” She strapped the cuff around his upper arm and set the machine. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” Roy said. “Aside from this bum hip of mine.”

  “Which will be fixed up in no time.” Emma noted the systolic and diastolic measurement. His blood pressure was a little high. “I see your surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

  “Have you got your tomatoes in yet?”