Page 8 of Every Star that Shines

“Are you going to tell me, or should we start playing Twenty Questions?” he joked.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted.

The tension in Caleb’s gut vibrated like a plucked guitar string.

“Er . . . Congratulations.”

“We just found out. Emma already knows, and she’s super excited to be a big sister.”

Caleb smiled. “She would be. And she’ll make a great one.”

“I know.” Monica hesitated. “Also, Dave asked me to marry him. And I said yes. We’re going to Grande Prairie tomorrow to pick out rings.”

Caleb drew in a deep breath. “Congratulations again. I’m happy for you.”

Her face softened. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really. You deserve to be happy, Mon. And Dave’s a great guy. Just answer me one thing, if you would.”

When she saw his face, her brow furrowed. “Of course.”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. Dave was probably still at work, but Emma had rolled down the truck window, and he wanted to be sure she didn’t overhear.

“Tell me you’re not marrying him because of the baby. That didn’t work out so well the last time.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m not. I learned my lesson, I promise.” When he didn’t relax, she said, “Trust me, Caleb. This is what I want.”

He searched her brilliant blue eyes, then stepped back. “Okay. Good. Have you set a date?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know when we do.”

Caleb nodded, then glanced toward the truck. Emma’s head was down. She was probably drawing.

“How about you?” Monica asked. “Any prospects on the horizon? How did things work out with Kate?”

“They didn’t.” He and Kate had only gone on a couple dates before Caleb knew it wasn’t fair to her to keep seeing her. Just like he’d known with the two or three other women he had tried dating in the six years since he and Monica had split. It was always for the same reason Monica had ultimately left him—his heart wasn’t truly available. None of them were Delanie.

“You’re going to have to get over her someday, you know,” Monica said quietly. She wasn’t talking about Kate anymore.

He looked toward the river and nodded. “Someday I will. See you Sunday.”

He strode toward the truck, not looking back at the house until he clicked his seatbelt into place.

By then, Monica’s door was closed. Like his heart.

Emma glanced up at him, a pink coloured pencil in her hand. “Look at the picture I drew for Hannah. It’s Lucy!”

He glanced at the partially coloured, fairly realistic drawing of a cricket wearing a pink polka-dot dress and smiled. “Great job, Chickadee. Hannah’s going to love it.”

Emma grinned. “I thought it might remind her to always follow her conscience.” She returned to her colouring, already re-absorbed in her work.

He watched Emma a moment longer, then put the truck in gear.

As proud as he was of his daughter’s moral compass, he wished he could find the words to tell her that following one’s conscience didn’t always work out.

Sometimes, it left you heartbroken and filled with regret.

He sighed and pulled away from the curb.

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