To Be a Dad. Kate Kelly

falling in a perfect curtain across her back. She used to have the perfect figure but had lost too much weight last summer, unlike Teressa, who had noticed lately that bits and pieces were starting to sag and shift, like those half-deflated balloons people tied to their mailboxes.

      Two years ago, Cal and Anita had eloped before anyone from the family or the village had met Anita, and Cal, in his usual impervious way, presented his bride to everyone, expecting them to love her as much as he did. It had taken a while for folks to warm up to Anita because she was so different from the rest of them. But in the past few months, Teressa had been enjoying getting to know her better.

      “I’m going to need something stronger than fake champagne to lift my spirits, girl,” she admonished Anita.

      Anita crossed her arms and tried to look stern, an almost impossible accomplishment for someone with Bambi eyes. “Have you done it yet?”

      “No.”

      “Where’s the kit?”

      “Bathroom.”

      “What are you waiting for?”

      Teressa’s shoulders slumped. “I just... It’s not that easy.”

      Anita’s voice softened. “Whatever you decide, I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

      Teressa wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s not that I don’t want the baby.” That wasn’t the complete truth. She did, and she didn’t. Already having two children, she understood what an incredible gift it was to have a child, and she knew in her mother’s heart terminating a pregnancy was not an option for her. But bringing up three children by herself? She wanted to cry every time she thought about the work and the responsibility.

      “You’re a wonderful mother, Teressa. Anyone can see that. If you’re pregnant, and you want the baby, we’ll all help in any way we can. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think Dusty is going to be a great dad.”

      “I just bet he’s jumping up and down with joy right now.”

      “I imagine he’s scared. Almost as scared as you.”

      “Scared he’ll get stuck with me and my brood.”

      “Maybe.” Anita shook her head. “But he cares about you, Teressa.”

      “If this were a few years ago, and it was just about Dusty and me, maybe we’d have a chance. But I’m twenty-eight years old, too old to get stars in my eyes. And I travel with a posse these days, in case you haven’t noticed.”

      “You’re arguing to avoid the inevitable. Go.” Anita pointed toward the bathroom.

      * * *

      ANITA TRIED TO ignore the sadness that tugged at her heart as she watched Teressa disappear into the washroom. Sadness for her friend because her life had always been so hard, and sadness for herself because more than anything, she wanted to have Cal’s baby. But Cal, afraid of history repeating itself, refused to start a family, and the miscarriage she’d had a few months ago had only confirmed his fears.

      Once Teressa was out of sight, Anita sank onto a kitchen chair. She’d insisted on coming over tonight against Cal’s wishes. Teressa deserved to have someone to hold her hand for this. Anita just wished there was someone stronger than her. She sighed and leaned back.

      Everything was a test these days. Was she strong enough to stand by her friend without breaking down and tell her of course she was lucky to have a third child while Anita longed to have just one of her own? Could she fit into a community that was as alien to her as her father’s world of rules and rituals would be to almost everyone living in Collina? Could she become a strong woman like Teressa and her sister-in-law, Sylvie? She wanted so much, but mostly she wanted a family of her own, and she was going to do whatever was necessary to make that happen.

      She straightened when she heard a truck pull into the driveway. She’d found the courage to leave her old life and follow Cal to Collina, and she’d find the courage to prove to her husband she was emotionally and physically ready to have a child.

      * * *

      THE HALLWAY FELT miles long as Teressa trudged toward her future. The past few weeks, she’d been playing a mental game, trying to trick herself into believing she wasn’t pregnant when she knew she damn well was. Of course she was! She’d never caught a break.

      Her life had derailed almost before it had started. When she’d become pregnant with Sarah, she’d had to forego the opportunity to attend the chef school she’d been accepted into and had gone to work as a sous chef in the local café she now owned in order to support herself and her new baby. She’d been there ever since, and yes, Dusty and Sylvie’s father, Pops, who had owned the café for years, had been more than good to her. But no matter how kind and generous he’d been, Collina was still a small fishing village on the edge of the Bay of Fundy, and Paris was a million miles away.

      She stopped and peeked into the kids’ bedroom again. Angels, both of them. She could do this. There was room in her life for a third child. But that was all. Forget a husband or boyfriend. Romance? A serious career? Who had the time or energy?

      She closed the bathroom door and pulled the pregnancy test out from under the towels. The moment of truth had arrived.

      * * *

      “WHEN DID YOU turn into such a slob?”

      Good question. Dusty stuck his hands in his back pockets and rolled back on his heels. “Been a little preoccupied lately.”

      “Is that what you call it.” His older brother, Cal, shoved two empty cases of beer out of the way with the toe of his boot. “How can you live like this?”

      “I didn’t ask you up here for advice on housecleaning.”

      Cal studied his face. God only knew what he saw. Pure terror? “Has she taken the test yet?”

      “I don’t think so. Anita just went over there. She’ll call when they know. So.” He looked around his cluttered house. As usual, Cal was right. He was a pig. “Where do we begin?”

      “We?”

      “Come on. I need help. We all know that Teressa’s going to have to move out of the carriage house. It’s already too small for the three of them. I have to at least offer her a place to stay, I guess. It’s time I started fixing up the house, anyway. I’m getting tired of living like I’m at my hunting camp.”

      “Okay, let’s start here.” Cal dug his jackknife out of his pocket and sunk the blade into the wood trim around the large living room window.

      “Hey! That’s not helping,” he protested. He’d thought he’d got a great deal when he’d bought the house a few months ago, but he had a feeling he was about to find out exactly why the bungalow had sold for such a low price. Cal had tried to warn him to have the house assessed, but Dusty’s knee-jerk reaction of telling his older brother to mind his own business had kicked in and the house had been an impulse buy all the way.

      His ever-efficient brother pulled a notebook out of his jacket pocket and started writing. “The wood’s full of rot. It’s gotta go. And those carpets are gross. Some of that new click flooring would clean this room up, and it’s not expensive.” He stopped writing and smirked at his brother. “Best of all, you can install it yourself.”

      Great. How was he supposed to fit in reno work during lobster-fishing season? He was on his boat twelve hours a day because of the high tides. Collina got close to fifty-foot tides locally, five times higher than the rest of the Atlantic coast. Most ports along the bay drained out with the tide and filled up when the water rolled back in. Once he went out on the rising tide, he couldn’t return until the tide rose again. It wasn’t easy fishing on the Bay of Fundy, but it was one of the richest fishing grounds on the east coast of Canada. Plus, he’d grown up working on the bay and knew its moods and the riches beneath its surface.

      Cal gave Dusty’s shoulder a brotherly punch. “I’ll