Her Soldier's Baby. Tara Quinn Taylor

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      As she said her goodbyes at the studio, took a cab to the airport and boarded her plane home Saturday night, Eliza had another problem on her plate. Not only did she have an illegitimate son her husband knew nothing about, not only had she given away her sterile husband’s child, not only did she have to tell Pierce both of those things—but also, she now needed to win Family Secrets. Needed it with a burn inside that wasn’t going to let her rest.

      All her life she’d been looking for her way. Her own mark to make on the world. She’d been looking for her purpose. Not her parents’ purpose for her. Not her grandmother’s. Or her guests’. Not even Pierce’s—not that he’d admit to any purpose for her but her own happiness.

      Since the day she’d given away her baby, she’d accepted the fact that she’d given away any chance she’d had of knowing ultimate joy. From that point on, she’d been settling. Not allowing herself to want for more than she could have. Content to love those she loved with all of her heart, to serve them. To take her happiness through pleasing them as best she could. To avoid asking for more than she deserved. To be thankful, every day, for what she had. She’d lost her drive to be all she could be. To achieve more than what was placed before her. To pave her own way.

      She sat in her window seat and stared out into the night, scared to death that she’d just found her way and that it might implode her entire world. Scared that Pierce wasn’t going to understand. Scared that she’d fail. And that she wouldn’t.

      And more excited than she’d been in a long, long time.

      * * *

      PIERCE KNEW THE SECOND he saw Eliza walking toward him that things had changed. The lightness in her step, the easy smile on her face, were like a shield around her—keeping him out. Not because she’d had fun or was enjoying the beginning of her television experience. But because, for the first time since they’d reconnected, she wasn’t greeting him with a sense of relief.

      Relief that they’d parted and made it back together again unscathed.

      He almost let himself be convinced that he’d been imagining the difference. And yet, as the new week started—and next weekend’s separation loomed—a shadow seemed to lurk over their home.

      Maybe that sense of darkness, of doom, was only in him. As Pierce took the Shelby Island exit Monday, he didn’t discount that possibility. His first call that day had ended in the arrest of a man for pulling his young daughter’s arm out of the socket and then backhanding her when she’d cried about it. He’d gone from there to take a report from an elderly woman who suspected her children were stealing from her. And then he’d been second on the scene at a convenience store robbery. Not exactly a bright, sunshiny day. In spite of the blue skies and seventy-degree weather report.

      A few hours alone with Eliza, sequestered in their portion of their antebellum home, would probably work wonders on him. She was making his favorite steak dinner. Though he’d stood in the kitchen talking to her more than once while she’d made it, he knew only that the sauce had about three kinds of mushrooms and whipped cream, and the meat itself was crusted with sea salt. And that it was the best steak he’d ever had in his mouth.

      He’d be having it at least twice that week as she timed herself from refrigerator to plate in preparation for the upcoming Saturday’s meat competition in Palm Desert. While the whole idea of the show was making him nervous now, he wanted her to win. And figured the steak would do it. At least enough to guarantee her a place in the competition’s final round.

      The inn’s guests for the evening included just two separately roomed businesspeople who were regulars. Social interaction requirements would be minimal.

      He was hoping for an evening walk on the beach. Or good tunes on in the exercise room while they took turns with the equipment. Something to use pent-up energy while still having her close.

      Pierce had himself down for being the only one aware of any gloom when Eliza met him at the door with a very welcoming kiss. After he changed out of his uniform into jeans and a casual blue button-down shirt, she was actually the one who suggested a walk on the beach after social hour and their private dinner. So much for thinking that she’d been shielded off from him. They were as simpatico as always.

      He couldn’t help watching her—like a man watched a woman—while she moved about the parlor, welcoming their guests back, asking about their days. In black leggings and a longish black-and-white variegated-plaid flannel shirt belted at the waist, she was the furthest thing from nightmares he could imagine.

      The meal she’d prepared was superb, as always, but it was her smile, the warmth in those brown eyes as she waited for his assessment, that really filled him up.

      Dishes done, she grabbed her sweater. Pierce might have suggested they stay home instead of taking that walk, but he took her hand as they set out to Shelby Island’s long stretch of public beach, content to be by her side in the cool evening air.

      Right up until she said, “Can we talk?”

      A rendition of “we need to talk.” And everyone knew what that meant.

      He braced himself.

      “Of course.”

      “I just... I’m thinking about kids a lot these days, Pierce.”

      Kids. He’d been prepared for changes due to television stardom. A need to fly permanently away from their lives on quaint and relatively safe Shelby Island. Her eventual dissatisfaction where he was concerned.

      And...kids. Her mention the other night on the phone had not been casual. When she didn’t pursue it, he’d just hoped whatever question she’d had had been answered in the meantime.

      There was much he might say. Much he probably should say. At least an inquiry into where she was going with this. An indication that he was willing to listen.

      He walked beside her. Felt her squeeze his hand and didn’t squeeze back. He also didn’t let go.

      “We said we’d always make space between us to talk about whatever we needed to talk about...”

      He didn’t disagree. Still said nothing.

      They’d reached the beach. Still holding his hand, she slid out of her flip-flops, bent to pick them up, then continued to walk. He’d noticed the hand-holding most.

      Took note. Breathed a little easier. And told himself that he’d get through this...whatever it was...for her. And had never been more thankful for darkness. While streetlights emblazoned patches of sidewalk and blacktop up off the beach, nothing illuminated the sand but the moon.

      He could see a couple of lights bobbing out on the horizon. And noticed three or four other people sharing the beach with them. All locals, he assumed, enjoying their beach before tourists completely took over. Spring break—the official beginning of Shelby Island’s tourist season—was only a few weeks off.

      He knew specifically because it would be starting before Eliza finished with Family Secrets. She’d almost backed out of the show because of it...

      “I know that you can’t father children, Pierce. You’re right, we talked about all that. And we agreed that just being together was enough for us...”

      That was then. This was now. Things changed. People СКАЧАТЬ