gave him a ghost of a smile. Then picked up another photo. “She was so cute in this little dress I made for her. The pattern could expand to two sizes up. I was going to make her another and another as she grew.” She went quiet.
Darcy put his hand over hers. “We had her for eighteen months. We need to be grateful for that and not think about what might have been.”
“It’s so hard,” she whispered.
“I know. It’s hard for me, too, especially thinking I should have spent more time with her, done more with her, the way I’ve started doing with Billy.”
Emma’s face suddenly crumpled. “It’s my fault.”
“Mine, too. I was intimidated by your knowledge. It was easy to let you take over.”
“No, I mean, it was my fault she died.” Emma looked at him, her face wet. “All this time I’ve blamed you for not going on the picnic because I couldn’t bear to admit that I should have stopped him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Darcy said. “You’re not making sense.”
“Kyle. I knew he was drunk. I saw him stagger when he came out of the house. And when he spoke he slurred his words. I tried to get his keys off him but—”
“Go on.”
“He was hitting on me—”
“What?”
“He was always hitting on me. Usually I ignored him, but that day he was leering down my blouse, touching me, making suggestive remarks about how he could come over at night while you were at the pub.”
Darcy swore. “I can’t believe this! Why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known, I would have decked him. He wouldn’t have been able to walk, let alone drive. Why didn’t you come inside and get me?”
“I should have. He wouldn’t hand over the keys, and he was too big for me to take them off him. I should have gone straight into the house and got you. But I knew that as soon as I went in he would have driven off so what was the point? I just wanted him out of my yard and away from the house.”
“Oh, Emma.” Darcy got a sick feeling in his stomach. “It wasn’t your fault. The guy is a prize jerk. And I’m at fault, too. I should have been a more responsible host and kept a closer eye on how much people were drinking.”
“It’s not very realistic, though, is it? People should be responsible for their own behavior. Footy parties are notorious for drinking games and overindulgence....”
She was letting him off too lightly. “Emma—”
“Wait, I’m not finished. I want to say this, get it all out.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I was so angry and upset, so focused on Kyle that I wasn’t paying attention to Holly. I went back to gardening. I wanted to get my pansies in. I always plant pansies on footy grand final weekend. And tomatoes on Melbourne Cup Day, the first weekend in November. Holly wanted me to throw the ball to her. I told her to wait. She threw it anyway. It bounced off a tree trunk and rolled onto the driveway. Holly ran after it as Kyle backed up.”
She started to cry again. “I let Kyle get in his vehicle and drive knowing how drunk he was—”
“It’s not your fault.” Darcy pulled her back into his arms. “You just said you tried to get the keys, but he wouldn’t give them to you.”
“I should have been watching Holly. If I’d played with her instead of being so bloody-minded about sticking to my gardening schedule...” She gulped a sob. “If you were out there, you would have been playing with her and the accident never would have happened.”
“But I wasn’t outside with her, was I?” Darcy said bitterly. “I was inside, drinking with my mates. That’s what I feel so bad about, what I could never talk about. I was drunk, too. Too drunk to realize Kyle shouldn’t have been driving. And because of that, our daughter is dead.” He stroked Emma’s trembling back. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.” She hugged him fiercely then eased away and gazed at him with a tearstained face. “We’ve both been beating ourselves up for not being responsible enough, playing the if only game. We’ve got to stop or we’ll never be able to move forward. It was an accident. A horrible, pointless, tragic accident. But an accident, nevertheless.”
“You’re right.” He pushed her hair off her face, his palm sliding against the tears he wanted