this counselor think her if she knew that Eliza was now married to that same boy? But that he knew nothing about the son he’d fathered?
To know would do neither of them any good. It would be more of the hurt from the past that could prevent happiness in their future. More angst, acrimony. More whys without answers.
They couldn’t have their son. And Pierce couldn’t father another one. It seemed too cruel to let him know what he’d missed. And to what end? So that he could hate himself for not contacting her after he left?
So they could both die of what-ifs?
“I have to ask you again,” Mrs. Carpenter broke into her thoughts. Oddly, having come full circle, Eliza felt no more certain of anything, no less vulnerable. And yet she’d found her strength.
“Ask what?”
“At this point, all your son has done is make one query into your information. Do you want to update what we have so that, if he comes back, he can contact you?”
Her heart started to pound again. “Can you contact him and let him know it’s here? That I’ve been here and left updated information?”
She supposed she wasn’t surprised when Mrs. Carpenter shook her head. She was disappointed. Hugely so. But back in control, she nodded. Took a breath.
Did she want this young man to be able to call her out of the blue? Any time of the day or night or year? Just to show up, unannounced at their door?
Yes! Of course! Absolutely!
And what about Pierce? What if he was having one of his bad spells? Or even if he wasn’t? Was it fair to him to open the door to this possibility? To the fact that at any moment, he could come face to face with his son without even knowing he had one?
If she did this...gave Mrs. Carpenter her information, gave her son the ability to contact her...she had to tell Pierce that the young man existed.
First.
“Can I call you and do that?” she asked now.
“Of course.” Mrs. Carpenter sat back.
Was Eliza no longer sounding like she was about to lose her marbles, then? She still felt like she was.
“You do realize there’s a possibility, given the internet, that he could find you anyway, right?”
Fear shot through her.
Mixed with excitement.
“That’s why I came,” she said. “To find out what the future might hold.”
Maybe she’d hoped to be able to see her son on her own. To know if finding out about him would cause Pierce more pain than good. To know if, regardless of the pain, their son needed them.
That had been the closer. If the boy needed them, she and Pierce had to put their own regrets, their own pain, aside and be there for him.
“I want him to have my information,” she said. “I want him to be able to contact me. But I need to take care of something first. I will be contacting you just as soon as I’ve gotten that done. I don’t know exactly when that will be...how soon...but it will be as soon as I can get it done.” She was babbling. Pedaling forward and back. Afraid for Pierce. Afraid for their son.
Mrs. Carpenter took her hand again. “That’s fine, hon. You don’t have to do this. That’s why you gave him up for adoption in the first place. So that he would be the son—the responsibility—of someone else. Whatever prompted you to do so...you clearly did what you thought best. What your parents thought best, too, based on what I read. You have no reason to feel guilty. Or obligated...”
“Oh, no. I want this!” She needed this. And hadn’t realized, until just that second, how much.
“It’s just...not just me...and I have to tend to others who love and need me...”
The woman nodded. Looking wise and understanding. And for the first time, Eliza felt like she was doing the right thing.
She stood. Walked to the door. And couldn’t quite step out. Not yet. Looking at the woman who’d somehow become a friend to her heart, she said, “Is there some way you can make a note in my file...to let him know...in case he comes back before I call...that I will be calling?”
“I can make a note that you said you would be calling.”
Eliza got the distinction. Mrs. Carpenter still thought she might change her mind. Or that she didn’t know her own mind.
She didn’t blame her. History wasn’t looking too good for her on that one. Recent history included.
But as Eliza left, as she drove back to Palm Desert and met all but one of her opponents in the contest, she’d never felt more like she and her mind were in sync.
They’d found each other again. Her thoughts and heart.
Somehow she was going to have to find a way to bring Pierce into the mix.
THAT FIRST WEEK there was no televised show he could watch. The contestants would be shuttled from the hotel to the studio for their first taping the next morning, but it was for footage that would be woven in throughout the series as warranted. They were being introduced to each other, shown their kitchen pods, their green room and lockers. And then toured around the studio. Natasha Stevens, the show’s host, wanted them familiar with their surroundings when the competition began the next weekend.
For the next five weekends, Pierce was going to be sleeping alone. If Eliza won any of the four weekly competitions, there’d be a sixth trip to Palm Desert for her. And he’d be expected to accompany her in the event that circumstance came to pass. If she actually won the whole thing, he’d be called up on stage to stand beside her as she accepted her award.
Lying in bed alone that Friday night, his arms folded on the pillow, his hands propping up his head, Pierce stared at the ceiling. And pictured his beautiful, vivacious, loving wife up on stage, on national television, announcing to the world that he, Pierce Westin, was her husband.
It was way too early for him to be lying in the dark, too early to have stripped down to his T-shirt and briefs. Guests were still up and about. Someone could need something.
But social hour was over. And if no one had a problem that Margie couldn’t handle, he could lie there alone until morning without being missed.
When he’d come in, he’d kind of had a plan to turn on the television mounted on the wall across from their big four-poster bed. Thought maybe he’d take in one of the more violent suspense flicks he liked. The ones that Eliza read through. If she could bear to be in the room with the sound at all.
Kill ’em and die movies, she always called them.
He grinned. What did that really mean? If you killed them, you didn’t die. That was the point.
He’d brought a fresh glass of iced
