Читать книгу Her Soldier's Baby - Tara Quinn Taylor - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

ELIZA DIDN’T EMBARRASS herself that first day in the studio. She enjoyed herself immensely. More than she’d ever imagined. Being around professional cooks, meeting Natasha Stevens in person, just looking around her small but state-of-the-art stainless steel culinary space made her feel like skipping around the room.

She was no longer just running a business her grandmother had left to her. Or being her father’s daughter who continued to be a disappointment to him. She wasn’t even just retired-medal-toting-military-man-turned-respected-cop’s wife. Suddenly, and for the first time in her life, she was someone in her own right. A chef worthy of national television. Her love of cooking, her cooking talents, were her own.

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 grew. Not always together.

Had Eliza’s biological clock started to tick? He thought about her pregnant. She’d be beautiful big with child. And would be an incredible mother, too. The best. Any kid would be lucky to have her.

He even thought for a brief second about asking her what she thought about artificial insemination before his psyche shut down on him. As it did every single time he tried to imagine himself in any kind of situation in which he had a relationship with a child.

The shutdown was his mind’s way of coping. And, according to the shrinks he’d seen in the army and again in the police department, it was a good thing. His mind’s way of blocking allowed him to be tough under pressure. Made him the go-to guy. The one who got the job done where others might crack.

As long as he understood that he had to deal with whatever his mind was blocking. He always had to remember to debrief in some fashion. Or have nightmares—his mind’s way of debriefing on its own.

Possibly both.

“Are you with me?” They’d walked several yards up the beach—far enough from the ocean that he could barely feel the chill coming off it. Sweating, he longed for a naked dive into the highest wave. Longed to conquer it, swim past it and let the ocean wash him clean.

“Yes.”

She knew him well. He trusted her to know that he’d listen to whatever she had to say. And do his best to support her in any way he could.

She even knew about the shutdowns. She just didn’t know what had triggered them in the first place. Or that there’d been one specific event that had done so.

Only a handful of people knew that. And none of them were talking. Ever. The pact was as rock-solid all those years later as it had been when it was made.

Not to save his butt. In some ways he’d just been the pawn. The one who drew the short straw.

But in the end, he’d been the perpetrator, too.

Because he’d made a choice. One he’d probably make again if faced with the situation again. And one he’d regret for the rest of his life.

And that was the crux of his predicament. You couldn’t be forgiven for something you knew you’d do again.

“When we were young, you talked about wanting to be a father.”

He didn’t miss a physical step, had only a bit of a mental blip.

“You were going to be everything your own parents were not...”

He heard the words. Didn’t relate to them. But held her hand. Because doing so was best for both of them.

“I know this is difficult ground, Pierce, considering your injury, but we need to talk about it.”

The thing was, the injury he’d sustained that had rendered him incapable of fathering children—it had been just. A man who’d taken the life of a child did not deserve to have children of his own.

He walked beside her. Would remain by her side for as long as she’d have him there. He’d made her that promise.

Of course, he’d promised, when he’d left his sweet young lover all those years ago, that he’d be back for her. He’d been too much of a kid back then to understand that life changed you—sometimes beyond anything that would fit into the life you’d left.

Still...he’d come back to her. Eventually.

“What do you think about adopting?”

Her words stung his skin. Hurt his ears with their volume. Tightened around his chest.

Pierce let go of Eliza’s hand.