Neither did he feel so hot.
“Can you feel that?” The doctor moved Pierce’s left arm.
“Yes, I can.” Thank God. He could feel everything. Every muscle he owned had an ache in it. But so far, as far as he’d heard, there was nothing seriously wrong with him.
He had stitches above his right eye. He hadn’t seen them yet, but by the feel of things, he wasn’t going to be his usual handsome self when his wife walked in that door.
At least nothing was broken.
His left wrist was sprained. He had various lacerations. Another cut on his left shoulder that was being stitched. A stiff neck. A multitude of bruises. But as soon as the tests came back saying there was no internal damage, he was out of there.
No matter what anyone said.
He’d been hurt before. Much worse and with less medical attention.
He knew he’d heal better at home in bed with Eliza. He had only three more nights before she left again.
* * *
THAT FIRST NIGHT, Eliza focused solely on Pierce’s immediate needs. He could walk, albeit painfully. He could sit up. He could feed himself.
“You’re lucky both the sprained wrist and stitched shoulder are on the same side,” she told him as she brought him his iced lemon water and cookies just before bedtime. He’d insisted on sitting on a chair in their room when he’d first come home, shortly after social hour. But ten minutes of that and he’d been in the bed.
Her man was strong. And stubborn. But he wasn’t stupid.
“Twice lucky because it’s the left side and I’m right-handed,” he said, raising the glass of water gingerly to his assaulted lips as he took the antibiotic she’d just handed him.
He’d refused all pain medication. Not that that surprised her any.
Still, the doctor had given her something to help him sleep. If he had a rough night, she intended to use every ounce of power at her command to see that he at least took the sleep aid.
“No.” He looked at her from his one good eye. The other was swollen shut. To match his bottom lip. “Thrice lucky,” he told her.
“How’s that?”
“Because you’re here.”
The line was corny. And nothing Pierce would normally say. It could be drugs talking from whatever was left of what they’d put in his IV earlier in the day.
The look in his eye told her what his words wouldn’t say.
He loved her. He needed her.
But he didn’t believe she’d always be there.
* * *
BY THURSDAY MORNING, Pierce was going nuts. He couldn’t stand the inactivity. The only thing keeping him cordial was the fact that Eliza was so sweet in her dedication to him. He couldn’t so much as turn his head without her checking to see if he needed something.
He needed to get back to work. Even if he was just kept busy in the file room.
He was out on the porch, attempting to tighten the screws on a screen that had blown lose, when Eliza found him.
“What are you doing?”
“The rattling was bothering me,” he said, ratchet wrench in hand.
He gave her credit for leaving him to it.
But he could tell, when she found him in the entertainment room just after ten, throwing darts with far more force than necessary, his wrapped left wrist hanging limp at his side, that she had something on her mind.
“We need to talk.”
She stood there facing him, arms crossed.
“I’m waiting for it to be late enough in Palm Desert, and then I’m calling Natasha to cancel my appearance on the show. At least for this week. If I can miss one week and still compete, I’ll consider doing so, but...”
Cursing his nervous energy, he said, “You are not canceling your appearance.” He’d check himself into a hospital before he let that happen.
“I’m not leaving you alone like this.”
“Margie will be here.” She had come in on Tuesday, when Eliza had had to leave the inn to be with him in Charleston, but she’d had Wednesday and Thursday off. And he could vacuum. He could be of some assistance.
“Pierce.”
“I’m not budging on this one, Eliza. You go or I find a convalescent center that will take me.”
Her jaw tightened. She looked like she might cry. He didn’t want to be harsh with her. He just knew that she had to do this. Had to have the chance.
He might not understand why it was so important, might not want her gone, but he knew his wife well enough to know that whatever was happening had to happen.
“Fine,” she said. “I don’t like it, don’t like how you just cop your attitude and it’s your way or the highway, but...you’re probably right. You’ll be fine.”
Of course he would.
“And...I don’t cop an attitude.” He didn’t quite mimic her, but he came close. He wanted to tell her to go. Leave him and his nasty mood. But was afraid that she’d take that as more of him demanding his way.
Why couldn’t the woman see that he lived to serve her? To give her whatever happiness he could give her? He needed her, but he would not let his need suck the life out of her.
In his whole life, Eliza was the one bright spot that wasn’t of his own making. He’d never known his mother. And while his old man had been congenial, when he’d been conscious, he sure hadn’t been a positive influence...
“Yes, you do cop an attitude,” she said, standing her ground in such an uncharacteristic way, he figured he wasn’t the only one suffering from having him in invalid mode. “This is just like eighteen years ago, Pierce. I begged you not to join the army. But you wouldn’t listen. You were so sure it was the best thing for both of us. That you’d get your career training, be back for me...”
What?
He knew why he’d joined up. He was never going to amount to anything but the son of the town drunk if he’d stayed. The army had been his only chance at real training, at having a career instead of just a job. And she knew why he hadn’t been in touch, too. Her old man would have had him in jail.
They’d been through all of that. Had put it to bed. Hadn’t talked about it, in accusing terms, since before they got married. Why was she bringing this up now? What was she doing?
With an instant mental slowdown, Pierce watched her. What had he missed?
“I did come back for you.” They were the only words that occurred to him that he could actually say.
And knew, when her face tightened, that they weren’t the right ones.
“Eventually,” he added. Which didn’t make things any better.
“We need to talk about kids, Pierce.”
She could have slapped him. That would have been kinder.
“Or rather, we need to talk about why you risked your life, why you let yourself get nearly pummeled to death, rather than wait for backup as protocol dictated...”
He’d wondered what she’d heard when she’d been in the waiting room with his fellow officers the day he’d been injured.
Jamison had said something about her asking him if he thought Pierce had a death wish.
If Pierce had been in top form, he’d already have had this one on the books. He’d forgotten, until that moment, that his sometime partner had given him the heads-up when he’d stopped in briefly to speak with him the day of his attack while Eliza had been signing papers to get him released to her care.
“The kid didn’t have time for me to wait,” he said now. “I was the only one there, the only one who could assess the situation, and I knew that if I didn’t act, that boy was going to be dead.”
As it was, the kid was hospitalized, in serious condition. He was conscious, though. And coherent.
“There were other things you could have done. From what I heard, you just barreled you
rself right into the fray. You didn’t even pull your stun gun. You could just as easily have been dead, too, Pierce. Which wouldn’t have helped the kid any. You saw a kid in trouble and you threw your training to the curb.”
“I knew what I had to do. A stun gun would have stopped one of them while another landed the death blow. No one was going to listen to me, or care. And the seconds I spent trying could have cost the kid his life.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“So you’d rather I save my own hide than take a chance to help someone else?”
Her hands dropped to her sides. She shook her head. “I just...you’ve got this thing with kids,” she said. “You marry a woman to save her kid, living with him gives you nightmares and you divorce her because you can’t help him. Me talking to you about kids gives you nightmares. Yet you risk your life, and your career, to save a kid. I don’t understand. And I think I need to.”
He’d known the time was coming.
He wasn’t ready.
He had to tell her something. Part of it, at least. He had to break the pact.
And something wasn’t right. His injuries weren’t the only thing bothering her. His actions on Tuesday weren’t all of it. She wasn’t meeting his gaze.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know! That’s what I’m asking you!” She might not be letting tears fall, but they were in her voice.
He thought about what Jamison had said.
“You think I have a death wish.”
“No!” She shook her head. Hugged herself. “Well, when I heard someone say that, I wondered, but...” Her gaze cleared, and she stared at him. “Do you?”
“No. I do not.” He had no trouble meeting her head-on with that one. “I’ve got work to do. And... I want every single second I can have with you.”
“I want that, too,” she whispered.
They weren’t dealing with the issues. But he went to her. Took her in his arms. And held on.
Pretending that they’d solved everything.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ELIZA’S BAG WAS packed before social hour Thursday night. She’d iron the navy dress pants when she got there. And hang the tweed jacket with navy leather pockets to steam in the hotel bathroom.
In the kitchen, making dinner for herself and Pierce while Margie put out the social hour fare, she timed her movements. The fried vegetables would please him. And serve as her only practice run for the third of the four Family Secrets competitions.
Now that they had two winners—Grace and her—there would be a final round. Another week she’d have to be away from home.
She wanted to be upset by that. Put out.
But she wasn’t.
She was excited to have confirmation of a fifth show.
This was her last night with Pierce before she was once again in California. She’d been debating all week about going. And all afternoon about whether or not she’d try to see Mrs. Carpenter again.
The woman knew now why and when she’d be in town. Had said she was going to watch the show.
The adoption counselor was the only person in the world who knew all sides of Eliza’s story.
After dropping an ice cube in her mixture of flour, ale, cornstarch and sea salt, Eliza started to roll the vegetables in the batter and place them on a tray in assembly line fashion. She had fifty minutes to make these and the sauces for dipping, too. The clock was ticking.
A lot of clocks were ticking. She was thirty-three. If she was ever going to be a mother...
No. Wait. That one wasn’t even on the list.
And she couldn’t afford to put it there, either. Not with everything else already in front of it.
Her clock with Pierce was definitely ticking. She had to tell him about the baby. What if, while she was gone, the Palm Desert caller rang back? What if it was their son?
Drop. Roll. Place.
For all she knew, the boy’s clock was ticking, too. If, God forbid, he was in trouble. But even if he wasn’t, he was young. Barely seventeen. If she didn’t make herself accessible soon, he might just give up.
And then she’d never know him.
She wanted to tell Pierce about the boy at dinner. But then chickened out and invited Margie to join them for the test run. Eliza had the meal plated in just under fifty minutes. But was it as good as usual?
“Delicious,” Margie said, licking her fingers as she helped herself to more.
“You’re going to win,” Pierce told her. She couldn’t tell if he was happy about that or not. His wrist was hurting him.
And he wouldn’t take anything to ease his pain...
She couldn’t tell because they weren’t in tune with each other. She wanted to pretend otherwise. But couldn’t.
He insisted on vacuuming the parlor after social hour, even though she assured him quite sincerely that she was happy to do so.
Because he had, she had the kitchen cleaned and breakfast prepped and ready to go by the time the front room was set. Half an hour earlier than usual.
“Let’s go sit,” Pierce said, taking her hand as he headed out to their private rose garden. When he started toward the gazebo, she wanted to hope he’d planned a romantic tryst to calm her heart and send her off with a good memory to replace the bad they’d added to their repertoire that week.
She wanted to concentrate on their love so it would keep her focused and strong as she faced the world, and her problems, alone.
But dread was heavy on her heart.
They’d furnished the gazebo with padded wicker furniture. A love seat and two rockers, a glass-topped wicker coffee table in the center.
She wanted to rock.
But when he chose the love seat, she settled beside him. Even now, fearing the worst, she was awash in love for him. This man. Her Pierce.
She’d never wanted another man like she wanted him. Never trusted one like she trusted him.
In all of the dates she’d been on in college and afterward, her heart had never felt the flutter, her insides had never rushed with butterflies, like they did when she was with Pierce.
“We need to talk.”
His words were a death knell.
She couldn’t let this die. Not without fighting for a chance. As easy as it might seem to be to just sit back and accept what was and move forward, to let others convince her what was right and best, she couldn’t do that anymore.
Not again.
“Yes, we do,” she told him.
Now’s not the time. It’s not fair to him. You’re leaving in the morning. He’s injured.
“I have something to tell you.” She blurted the words before they could be stifled. Now she was on the front line without a shield.
He studied her. “Okay.”
She couldn’t let him cop his attitude on her one last time. Couldn’t let him decide that she’d be better off without him. Which was what she’d expected to hear if she’d let him go first.
“I have a secret, Pierce. A big one.” Clasping her hands together in her lap, she squeezed. Swallowed. In spite of all of the hours she’d spent thinking about this moment, preparing for it, she didn’t know what to say.
Her heart pounded while her lungs tightened around the air she couldn’t seem to get enough of.
“But before I tell you, I need you to promise me that you won’t shut me out. That you won’t just go away and refuse to discuss it.”
“I’d never do that.”
“You have no idea what you’ll do. You don’t know the secret.”
“I know you. And I know how completely I love you.”
If only life were that easy. That clean.
She knew him, too. Knew how much she loved him. And yet she’d bet Rose Harbor th
at he’d been about to tell her he was walking away.
So maybe it would be kinder to leave him to his ignorance and let him go. Why hurt him with what he could have had, when there was a chance they’d never even hear from the boy again?
What if he calls again when I’m gone?
She’d stay home. Pierce was injured. And the problems between them had grown too big to ignore. She was needed there.
To save her marriage.
“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.” She was selfish. And weak. She should never have let her parents talk her into giving away the child she and Pierce had made from their love.
Should never have complicated the mistake by letting them talk her into believing that it would be for the best if she never mentioned the baby again. If she acted as though that nine months, that one incredible morning and horrible, horrible afternoon, had never happened.
“What’s going on, Eliza?” He didn’t sound angry. Or fierce. Not commanding, or even defensive. He sounded loving. And concerned.
She couldn’t do this to him.
“Nothing. I just... I want to stay home. With you. I want to drop out of the show.”
No, she didn’t. At all. It was the last thing she wanted to do. And yet...she did.
How could it feel as though she needed both things?
Eliza wasn’t even sure she knew who she was anymore.
“What’s going on, Eliza?”
And still, she knew how much she loved Pierce. No matter what else changed, her love for him was constant.
She couldn’t hurt him with the truth. Not Pierce...
“Have you met someone in California? Is that why you have this sudden urge to stay home? Did you sleep with someone else?” There was no accusation. Just a question.
“No!” She was pretty sure the look of horror on her face didn’t even come close to matching what she felt inside. “How could you even think...suggest...”
He shrugged, his facial muscles somewhat more relaxed, but otherwise giving no indication how he was feeling.
Or what he was thinking.
“You love being on the show and suddenly don’t want to go. And now you tell me that I don’t know you like I think I do. There’s been something different since the first time you were out there. Maybe even before. I’m not sure about that. As I’ve been trying to pinpoint the moment of change, I find that, prior to your first trip to California, I wasn’t looking for anything different between us and was, as usual, pretty wrapped up in my own perspective. What is clear to me, though, is that since that first day you were out there, there’s been something you aren’t telling me.”
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