the bowl of batter.
“Where’s Dad?” While his mother’s back was turned, getting the cake pan ready, Darcy sneaked a taste of the spiced batter.
“In the backyard.” Marge turned and shooed him away from the counter. “Don’t think I didn’t see you dip your finger in the bowl.”
“When I was a kid I really believed you had eyes in the back of your head.” He sat on a stool at the counter and reached for a scrap of apple peel, taking a bite to delay the moment. “I’ve got some news.”
“Emma’s pregnant.” Marge poured the batter into the pan and scraped every bit out with a rubber spatula.
“How did you know?” He should have asked Emma who else she’d told besides her family. For some reason he’d assumed no one, but that was probably naive.
“My friend Lydia works at Target. She served Emma the other day when she was in buying a ton of baby things. Lydia reckons there’s no way she’d buy that much for a friend, or even for her sister.” Marge eyed him sympathetically. “Do you know who she’s with? Who the father is?”
Darcy shifted uncomfortably on his stool. He hadn’t told his family about hooking up with Emma on the cruise. There hadn’t seemed to be any point. Half a dozen times in the pub he’d been on the verge of telling his father about the pregnancy, but he was usually busy and Roy was always surrounded by his mates. By the time Darcy found a moment to himself, his dad had gone home.
“As a matter of fact, I’m the father.” He quickly held up a hand. “And no, we’re not getting back together. It was an accident.”
Marge shook the spatula at him. “You’re too old for that kind of accident.”
“Don’t lecture me, Mum. How’s Dad’s hip?”
“Don’t change the subject. But since you asked, he’s been moved up on the waiting list. We’re expecting a call from the hospital any day for him to have the operation.”
“That’s great. How’s his blood pressure?”
“It’s come down a touch. He’ll be all right.” She opened the oven door and slid the cake inside. Then she faced him across the counter. “What’s going on with you and Emma?”
“Quite honestly, I don’t know. We’re not unfriendly, but it’s tense at times. I want to pay support but she doesn’t want me to have a role in the baby’s life.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “But then, I never wanted another child.”
“Now that it’s happening you have to deal with it.” Marge wiped up the mess on the counter. “You two should try again. A baby might bring you together.”
“I know people who think that will work, but I wonder how often it’s successful in practice.”
She dropped the peel in the compost container then looked at him, her eyes filled with hope and fear. “I want to know my grandchild, Darcy. Is she going to allow me and your dad into her life?”
There was no reason for her not to, but with Emma he never knew. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Or I could. Do you mind if I call her?”
“If you like.” The ramifications of this baby were still sinking in. Whether he was an active father or not, his child would be at the center of a web of family ties. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Not that he wanted to keep his mother away. She and Emma used to be close, and she was a wonderful grandmother to Dan’s three kids, Mike’s two and Janine’s four. Holly had adored her.
Darcy slid off the stool. “I’ll go say hi to Dad.”
If the kitchen was an example of his mother’s haphazard housekeeping, the backyard was a testament to his father’s obsessive tidiness. The grass was trimmed to precisely two inches high, the edging done every week like clockwork and the flowering shrubs neatly pruned.
His father was leaning on the fence, holding up an azalea cutting and demonstrating how to plant it to his neighbor Hal, a stockbroker in his early fifties.
Darcy walked over, picked up his dad’s cane where it had fallen in the grass and propped it against the fence. “Hey, Dad.” He lifted a hand to the neighbor. “Hal.”
His father turned and saw him. “Hal, this is Darcy, my youngest. He runs the pub now.”
“Nice to see you again. We’ve met, Dad.” Many times. His father was over eighty and getting forgetful along with the creeping deafness and the dodgy hip.
“Hey, Darcy.” Hal gave Roy an indulgent smile.