on the tip of his index finger was wired to a machine that monitored his heart rate and oxygen saturation. The jagged green tracings looked erratic to Darcy’s untrained eye. He felt panicky at seeing his father in this condition.
Roy’s eyelids fluttered open. “Marge?”
“It’s me, Dad. Darcy.” He gripped his father’s hand.
Roy opened his eyes and glanced around, plucking at the sheet fretfully. “Where’s Emma and little Billy?”
“They’re around. You’ll see them soon.” He didn’t know if she planned to bring Billy up, or even if she should, given his dad’s infection.
“Fine son you have there. Spitting image of your grandfather, my dad.”
“He’s got the Lewis chin, that’s for sure.”
Roy gripped his hand with surprising strength. “You’ve got a second chance here, with the baby. Don’t let Emma go again.”
This is where he needed to back Emma up. It felt surprisingly hard to defend their agreement to continue with their separate lives.
“We’ve talked. Neither of us want to get together again. Emma’s determined to raise Billy on her own, and I’m going to support her decision. We’re friends, though, and I’m going to see Billy lots.”
Roy shook his head. “Is that enough?”
Not really, but this was no time to be getting into a discussion about it. “I’m going ahead with the renovations at the pub. I’m trying to build up the business again.”
Roy gripped his hand harder. “Why don’t you try to rebuild your life? If I’ve learned anything in the past forty years, it’s that women would rather have their man around than all the money in the bank.”
That was easy for his dad to say. When Roy had owned the pub it was the only joint in town where people could get a drink. There’d been no restaurants serving liquor, only cafés. Emma wouldn’t want a guy who couldn’t support himself. And Darcy had too much pride not to provide for his family even if he didn’t live with them.
Emma entered the room. “The pub is going to look fantastic when Darcy’s finished,” she said, clearly having overheard their conversation. Even though she wasn’t on duty, she bustled about, adjusting Roy’s pillows, filling his water glass.
She gave Darcy an encouraging smile, but her eyes were troubled. What had she found out about his father’s condition?
“Emma picked out the paint,” Darcy said. “Coral walls with antique white trim.”
“Have some water.” Emma held the water cup with a straw to Roy’s mouth. “You need to keep your fluids up. A little more.” She gave his father such a glorious smile Darcy almost felt jealous.
A nurse, Laura, came into the room wheeling a trolley loaded with bandages and supplies. “I’m going to change your dressing now,” she told Roy.
Emma propped a couple of pillows beneath his back and helped the other nurse turn him on his side. She glanced at Darcy. “You don’t have to stay for this. Go get a coffee.”
“I want to stay.” If she was staying, so was he.
“Suit yourself.” She turned to Laura. “I can do this if you like.” Perpetually overworked, like all nurses, Laura made a token protest then thanked her and left to continue on her rounds.
Emma donned a pair of gloves and peeled back the dressing to uncover the surgical wound. The site of the stitches was red and swollen and weeped a yellowish pus that emitted a foul odor. Red streaks radiated down Roy’s thigh. He gripped the side of the bed, his face set against the pain.
Darcy swallowed hard to stop himself from gagging. “Is it healing?”
“It’s going to be fine.” Emma worked swiftly, swabbing the area clean with gauze soaked in some bluish solution. She applied an ointment and then put on a fresh dressing. “All done.”
“When can I go home?” Roy asked.
“You’ll be out of here in no time.”
Darcy recognized Emma’s soothing nurse voice, the one that was more about patient morale than an accurate diagnosis.
She bundled away the soiled bandages into the trash and washed her hands at the sink next to the bed. Then she turned Roy onto his back and plumped up his pillows again. She positioned his call button next to his hand. “Press that if you need anything. I’m not on duty today but Laura will help you. Darcy, I’ll be at the nurses’ station when you’re done.”
He stayed and talked to his father for another twenty minutes, filling him in on the scuttlebutt surrounding the Indian restaurant fire. His dad’s attention waned until finally he closed his eyes. “I’ll let you rest. See