Saltwater Cowboys by Dayle Furlong

a grudge against the McCarthys for years. Jack’s father John had been calling her “Lily-white-arse” ever since she was ten.
    Lillian’s father, Aloysius White, had given the boy a trimming for cursing at his daughter, and when they grew up John McCarthy would nickel-and-dime Lillian on plumbing jobs and use spoiled, rusted pipes in her house instead of new ones.
    â€œA letter came yesterday from a mining company up in northern Alberta.”
    Maggie meandered out from the pantry, chocolate pudding smeared on her face and fingers. “Your appetite will be spoiled,” Lillian said, appraising the child derisively.
    Maggie grinned mischievously, chocolate stuck to her front teeth.
    â€œLet her be,” Angela snapped. “She can eat whatever she wants.”
    â€œNot in my house she can’t.”
    Maggie stood, nervously knotting her black pageboy with her chocolate-covered fingers, innocent and bewildered blue eyes wide and round as those of the cows in her colouring books.
    â€œDon’t bother with the tea. If my kids are hungry, I’ll go home and feed them.”
    â€œI’m sorry —”
    â€œNo need to explain,” Angela said and rose to pick Lily up from the floor. “We’ve worn out our welcome here.”
    Angela slipped on her coat, wrapped Lily in a shawl, and nudged Maggie toward the door. Outside on the wooden step, she turned back toward her mother at the door, her face slack and sad.
    â€œDon’t worry, we’ll be gone soon, and you won’t be bothered —” she said bitingly as Maggie kicked stones halfway down the gravel driveway “— by the child,” she continued and covered Lily’s ears with her hands, “that looks exactly like the man I married.”
    As she walked away, she brushed a few tears from her face. It’s bad enough that she doesn’t like my husband, but to take it out on our daughter? That’s unforgivable, she thought sorrowfully. It will be great to get out of here, to get away from her. She’s a horrible, miserable old woman. She thinks she knows what my husband’s faults are? She doesn’t know the first thing about Jack. He won’t let me down. He’s promised to do everything for me and the children. I don’t doubt him. He listens to me, he always has. It’ll be good for the children to not have to grow up with her condescension. God knows how I survived it myself.
    Angela thought back to all the hours she’d spent arguing with her mother over every choice she’d made or wanted to make: all her life, badgered about her preferences from skirt length — in high school — to hairstyles, choosing baby names, and finalizing wedding details. She’ll have no say in this new little baby’s life , Angela thought, and her eyes cleared. She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “We’ll be far away from her. Hopefully sooner rather than later,” she whispered to Lily, asleep in her arms.
    Jack took his time taking the last few steps from the unemployment centre toward home. He couldn’t believe it: she was pregnant again. He’d heard her throwing up this morning. She’d tried to hide it with the running water and a lot of loud coughing. He let out a low whistle, unable to believe that another baby was on the way.
    Another mouth to feed , Jack thought and gulped as he halted mid-step. He looked around, hoping for someone, anyone, to be heading home. He’d like to find someone to go play darts with or have a game of cards. He didn’t want to face her. Or face this. How could this have happened? Why weren’t we more careful? He wanted to run back to the mine and burrow underground. Or swim away, jump into the Atlantic and go to Ireland and search for his roots, his other family, and other men in his gene pool: roughnecks who quite naturally had deserted their women for the drink or for the freedom to