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?”
He was avoiding talking about his operation. After years on the wards she recognized the tactic among patients afraid of surgery. She and Roy used to be buddies, swapping plants and gardening tips, and she had a soft spot for him. “I’m in an apartment. I don’t have room for a garden.” Nor the heart for it, either. She’d lost that along with Holly.
“Nothing beats the taste of homegrown.”
“That’s true.” She wrapped the cords around the blood pressure cuff and replaced it on the trolley. “How many plants have you got this year?”
“A dozen, three of the cherry variety.” Roy tipped up the chip packet and the last one fell into his palm. “Funny you calling your baby William when you and Darcy have split up.”
“You shouldn’t eat that salty stuff with your blood pressure.” She stuck a thermometer clip on the end of his finger. “How come you planted your tomatoes so soon? You always told me to wait until the first week in November.”
“I had to get them in before I went into hospital. Marge wouldn’t get around to it if—”
“If what?”
His face settled into a frown that made his jowls droop even more than they ordinarily did. “You got a balcony? Tomatoes grow great in pots. I don’t even know where you live now. Darcy shouldn’t have let you go.”
“I’m in Mornington. It wasn’t a question of Darcy letting me go.” He’d walked out on her. Sure in hindsight she could see that maybe she drove him to it, but their problem was they hadn’t agreed on the things that really mattered—Holly, how they saw themselves as a family, what their plan was for the future. Emma managed a tight smile. “I believe it’s called irreconcilable differences.”
“I’ve seen plants that have been cut back to nothing, burned by summer drought, ripped out of the ground—you name it. You stick them in good rich soil, give ’em plenty of water and some nourishment and they survive, even thrive. Nothing can’t be fixed with a little TLC.”
“You’ve been reading Marge’s romance novels, haven’t you?” Emma recorded his temperature and removed the finger clip. Then she squeezed his hand and held it. “Don’t worry about the operation. Hip replacements are routine these days. You’ll be back in action in a few weeks.”
Roy started to bluster about how he was fine, then his gaze flicked to hers. “The doctor was in earlier—the one who’s going to knock me out. She told me I’m at risk because of my blood pressure.”
“They have to warn people. It’s a standard caution. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”
“What if I cark it on the table?”
“I’ll water your tomatoes,” she said lightly.
“Will you bring Billy around to see Marge?”
“Oh, Roy.”
“Promise me.”
If only he knew how much she would have loved for Billy to be part of the big, boisterous Lewis family, under the right circumstances, that is, if she and Darcy were together. He would have lots of cousins, including a boy nearly