First Comes Baby...: The Loner's Guarded Heart by Michelle Douglas

hot chocolate in her stomach curdled. Maybe she’d been the only one caught up in it.
    She cleared her throat. ‘It worked so well he actually gave me a dozen names.’
    Ben rubbed his chin. ‘If I did it in reverse...’
    ‘Worth a try,’ she agreed.
    ‘Brilliant!’ He slapped a hand down on the breakfast bar. ‘Thanks, Meg.’
    ‘Any time.’
    But the words sounded wooden, even to her own ears. He opened the back door, hesitated, and then turned back. ‘I didn’t come back to make your life chaotic on purpose, Meg.’
    She managed a smile. ‘I know.’
    ‘What night do you check up on your father?’
    She should have known he’d make that connection. ‘Tomorrow night. He refuses to cook, or to let me cook, so we have dinner at the RSL club.’
    ‘Would it be all right if Elsie and I came along with you tomorrow night?’
    What? Like a family? She frowned and scratched the back of her neck. Eventually she managed to clear her throat again. ‘The more the merrier.’
    ‘What time should we be ready?’
    ‘He likes to eat early these days, so I’ll be leaving here at six.’
    With a nod, he was gone.
    * * *
    Ben stood in the dark garden, adrift between Meg’s house and Elsie’s.
    He’d wandered over to Meg’s tonight because he couldn’t have stood another ten minutes in Elsie’s company, but...
    He scratched a hand back through his hair. He hadn’t expected to be confronted with his own inadequacies. With his selfishness.
    He threw his head back to glare at the stars. He dragged cleansing breaths into his lungs. No wonder Meg didn’t believe he’d see this fatherhood gig through.
    He rested his hands against his knees and swore. He had to start pulling his weight. Meg was pregnant. She should be focussing on things like getting ready for the baby. Resting.
    While he’d been off seeing the world Meg had been taking care of everyone. He straightened. Well, her days of being a drudge were over. He’d see to that.
    He glanced at his grandmother’s house. Shoving his shoulders back, he set off towards it.
    He found Elsie at the kitchen table, playing Solitaire—just as she’d been doing when he’d left. The radio crooned songs from the 1950s.
    ‘Drink?’ he offered, going to the fridge.
    ‘No, thank you.’
    She didn’t so much as glance at him. He grabbed a beer...stopped...set it back down again and seized a can of soda instead. The silence pressed down like a blanket of cold snow. He shot a glance towards the living room and the promised distraction of the television.
    You turn back into a sullen ten-year-old .
    He pulled out a chair and sat at the table with Elsie—something he hadn’t done since he’d returned home—and watched as she finished her game. She glanced at him and then in the wink of an eye, almost as if she were afraid he’d change his mind, she dealt them both out seven cards each.
    ‘Can you play rummy?’
    ‘Sure I can.’
    ‘Laurie taught me.’
    His skin tightened. He rolled his shoulders. So far this was the longest conversation they’d had all week. ‘I...uh...when he was recuperating and you visited?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    He wanted to get up from the table and flee. It all felt so wrong. But he remembered Meg’s crack about him reverting to a sullen ten-year-old and swallowed. ‘When I was in Alaska I played a form of rummy with the guys off the fishing trawlers. Those guys were ruthless.’
    But Elsie, it seemed, had clammed up again, and Ben wondered if it was something he’d said.
    They played cards for a bit. Finally he broke the silence. ‘Meg’s looking great. Pregnancy obviously agrees with her.’
    Nothing.
    ‘She’s crocheting this thing—a baby shawl, I think she said. Looks hard, and progress is looking slow.’ He picked up the three of spades Elsie had discarded. She still didn’t say anything. He ground back a sigh. ‘Can you crochet?’
    ‘Yep.’
    She could? He stared at her for a moment, trying not to rock back on his chair.