Her Soldier's Baby

And he would work his tail off. Protecting the people of Charleston, paying it forward—so that the law enforcement of Palm Desert protected her.

He might kid himself that he risked his life every day as a kind of penance—to pay for the sins of his past. But deep down he knew better. There was nothing he could do—ever—to make up for what he’d done. No way his soul would ever be out of debt.

As he reached his patrol car, the fear inside him increased. He wasn’t afraid of the job. On the contrary, his time on the streets, looking out for bad guys, taking them on, taking them in, was the only time he ever really felt comfortable.

What he feared was greater than mere physical death. It was the fear of a man who knew that he wasn’t good enough for the woman he loved.

Who knew that...someday...he would lose her. Again.

* * *

THERE WAS A little gathering for contestants Friday evening down in the lounge. Hosted by the hotel, there’d be wine and hors d’oeuvres, and a chance for all of them to get to know each other before traveling in the van to the studio the next morning. According to Eliza’s paperwork, seven of the eight contestants were traveling in from out of state and would be guests at the hotel.

The eighth, an eighty-one-year-old woman from Utah, had rented a condominium for the next two months in one of the popular senior resort communities for which Palm Desert was known. They’d all had a list of area options. For those who were going to be traveling back and forth for the weekend tapings, the host hotel was by far the best deal.

Eliza would have stayed with the crowd anyway. There was safety in numbers. And convenience in door-to-door transportation.

She took the car she and Pierce had arranged from the airport to the hotel. Paid the driver. Checked in. She was a couple of hours earlier than the three other contestants arriving that day. Three had arrived the night before.

Eliza could have made plans to get together early with them. Could go downstairs on the off chance she’d run into them.

Instead, she grabbed the big black shoulder bag she’d bought to use as a purse for the duration of her time on Family Secrets—a minimum of two weeks, a maximum of six—and made sure the folder was inside.

She opened that and looked for the pencil markings she’d made. Just a couple of numbers. A mnemonic device. She didn’t need it. The information she needed was etched so legibly on her brain, she was half surprised that Pierce hadn’t been able to read it in full.

After his time in Iraq, coupled with his police military training and his time on the job after he got out, her husband could see an ant on a paper plate at a picnic from a block away. His “sniffing out trouble” skills were honed to perfection.

The agency she needed to visit was in Anaheim. A good hour and a half west of Palm Desert. She already knew she could get a rental car from the hotel, and as soon as she’d dropped off her suitcase and quickly freshened up, she went down to the lobby to do so.

She didn’t need to look her best. She was going only to the agency. To see if she could get some information.

In deference to the questions she knew her husband was going to ask, she got a car with built-in navigation. And called him as soon as she was inside. Telling him that she’d only rented the car for the afternoon. She had some free time and didn’t want to be cooped up in a hotel when she was in sunny California for the first time in her life.

Pierce didn’t like her out and about on her own. At all.

But he didn’t question her desire to take a look around. He never questioned anything she did. Trusted her completely.

Which made the start of this particular journey that much more difficult.

Pierce didn’t trust often, or easily, but he’d always been able to trust her. Since the moment he’d come back into her life, she’d never given him reason to doubt her.

He’d needed that.

And she’d somehow worked it out in her brain that if she did that for him, she could make up for the part of her past that he didn’t know about. Make up for the one secret she kept. The one part of her life he wouldn’t recognize.

The part after he’d left for the army, and she’d left town—and the high school where they’d met and been a couple—to finish high school in South Carolina. Living with her grandmother.

The licensed nonprofit agency was located in a suite of offices in an upscale professional park. Following the instructions coming over the car’s system, she drove straight there. Parked. Stared at the door. This was a long shot. At best.

At three o’clock on Friday afternoon, the employees inside were probably winding down for the week. She knew from their website that they closed at five p.m., five days a week. And were closed all weekend, too.

A couple came out. His arm around her, his head slightly bent toward hers. They appeared to be in their midthirties, well dressed. Got into a royal blue BMW.

And she hadn’t come all this way to watch other people live their lives. Truth be told, she hadn’t come all this way to compete on a cooking show, either.

She’d auditioned for the show as a means to come all this way. If she hadn’t won the audition, she’d told herself she’d see that as a sign that she was to do nothing.

Likewise, if she got on the show, that was momentous enough to be considered a sign in the other way—it would be sure direction to act.

The fact that winning Family Secrets could allow her and Pierce the finances to get him off the streets was added impetus.

She’d been motivated by need and had been given opportunity, and now it was up to her to do all she could to make their future come to fruition.

And added to all of that, the unforeseen aspect... She really needed to win the competition for herself. Needed it badly. These past weeks of living in her future while knowing she was going back into her past had shown her something very clearly. Her whole life she’d defined herself by those in her life—her parents, Pierce, her grandmother and then Pierce again. And she was...weary. It was like she was constantly running to keep up, but never quite catching up because someone always needed something more.

But winning the competition...that was for her. To show herself that separate and apart from everyone else, she was just plain good at something. She was an individual with a talent that had nothing to do with anyone else in her life.

Maybe if she could believe that, if she could show herself that much, she wouldn’t constantly feel as though she had to earn the love of those around her. She could just love them. Serve them. And feel...like she was enough.

But first, she had to take care of her past.

CHAPTER TWO (#ucc7f806e-1278-584b-abdb-3f3f430e767c)

WHILE THERE WASN’T a lot of crime on Shelby Island, there was plenty of it in Charleston, which was where Pierce worked. With the harbor and the beaches, the moderate temperatures and South Carolina charm, the city attracted all kinds. From drug users to homeless, vacationers to the rich and famous, illegal immigrants to some of the nation’s most respected leaders, Pierce, with his fellow officers, walked among them. Determined to keep the peace.

When a call came in, he put himself on the front line as often as he could. He was trained for all kinds of warfare. Had reflexes that outranked those of most officers.

And no fear of dying.

Some thought he was a bit too into danger and shied away from partnering with him. Others put in requests to ride with him.

He preferred going it alone.

And would have liked to stay on for a second shift when his was up Friday afternoon. But instead he parked his vehicle and headed out right on time. With Eliza gone, he had evening social hour welcoming duties at the bed-and-breakfast. He wasn’t good at it. Figured he probably put as many people off as he made feel welcome, but his wife didn’t seem to get that.

She had a full-time assistant. And a part-time one, too, for times like these when she couldn’t be at Rose Harbor B and B herself. The weekend’s meals were all prepared and in the refrigerator, ready to heat. As cooking was Eliza’s passion, she did all of it herself.

Someone would be at the house to check in guests and tend to unforeseen needs: a pillow that was too hard or too soft, an allergy to a particular kind of soap, menu preferences that a guest might have forgotten to fill in ahead of time.

Pierce’s job was simply to be present. To welcome Eliza’s guests into their home as though they were friends. To chat with them and assure them that they were happy to accommodate their needs.

And to fix anything that might be broken. A toilet with a flush valve gone bad. A leaky faucet. Things Eliza could do, too, in a pinch.

His wife, a Harvard graduate, had a lot of surprising talents. He thought of her, and the fact that it was still early afternoon in California, as he drove home. Had to toss his cell phone to the backseat while he drove in an effort to stop himself from calling. And he concentrated on the evening ahead.

They had four of their six rooms filled that weekend. Two to families in town for a reunion. One an older couple who visited at least once a year. And the fourth to a recent widow, traveling on her own.

Other than the mingling, Pierce was happy to be a part of Eliza’s venture. To contribute.