Her Soldier's Baby

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “I’m fine. And sorry you were worried. The call, do you think maybe it was someone here locally who’s a fan of Family Secrets? The show has a ton of fans here. There’s Family Secrets memorabilia in pretty much every store. Maybe someone saw me win last week and wants to book a room at Rose Harbor.”

  Maybe. And they’d hung up because...

  Pierce got a hold of himself.

  She was right. He knew she was. And hated how insecure he felt. “They got any extra-large Family Secrets T-shirts in those stores?” He heard himself ask. And felt like a high school teenager who knew he’d never be good enough for her.

  “Of course. You want one?”

  He didn’t wear T-shirts, only undershirts. “I do,” he told her. He’d wear it, too. Because his wife was a Family Secrets winner.

  And he loved her to distraction.

  * * *

  “I JUST LIED to my husband.” Eliza felt the room closing in on her, the world closing in on her, as she faced Mrs. Carpenter across her desk. “I told him I was out exploring.”

  “Telling him you’re sitting in an adoption agency office, while he’s in South Carolina and you’re here, would have been the better option?”

  Of course not. Nor the kinder option.

  “And not that I condone either lying or justifying. But in a way, you are out exploring. You’re exploring your options, as opposed to the scenery, as he’s probably thinking.”

  “As I led him to think by not saying different.”

  But the older woman was right. It would have been cruel to tell Pierce the truth while she was so far away.

  And he was going to be alone in their bed that night. The thought of him suffering through another nightmare made her shudder.

  She’d promised him—and herself—that she’d do all she could to make certain that never happened.

  She’d never thought there’d come a day when she’d actually be the cause of one.

  But then, she’d never allowed herself to think, or even hope, that she’d ever have occasion to tell him about their son, either.

  “Has he been here?” The question erupted out of her one more time.

  “I can’t tell you that.” The compassion in the other woman’s expression hadn’t grown. Or lessened.

  “I need to ask you to hold off a little bit longer in giving him my current information,” she said next. She could have called with the news. She’d wanted to look Mrs. Carpenter in the eye. To make certain that the other woman understood that it wasn’t a question of if she’d release the information. It was merely a question of when.

  “You never have to release it.” The counselor leaned forward, her gaze direct.

  Eliza stood. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “I do.”

  She turned, intending to leave.

  “Is he seeing a mental health professional?”

  Eliza froze at the question directed at her back. She thought about continuing out the door, back to the hotel. Joining the others for happy hour. Focusing on the reason that had paid for her trip to California. Her appearance on Family Secrets.

  She was already guaranteed a spot in the final round. Had already crossed all but the last hurdle to proving to herself that she could win.

  Eliza turned back.

  “My husband?” she asked.

  Mrs. Carpenter nodded, and Eliza sat. “Yes.”

  “Do you know the source of his disorder?”

  Pierce wasn’t disordered. He’d served his country. Had seen things no human being should see. “He served two tours in the Middle East. Experienced combat while he was there.”

  And regardless of what he thought, what anyone thought, that fact made him better father material. Not worse.

  “My husband is the most honestly aware person I’ve ever known,” she said, flooding with love for Pierce, even then. “And the most accountable, too.”

  “I’m assuming, since he doesn’t know about your son, he doesn’t know you were ever pregnant?”

  “I was days before my sixteenth birthday when Pierce left for Iraq. He was eighteen. Our son was conceived the night before he left. I didn’t hear from him...”

  For all those months. Had feared he was dead. Until her father had made inquiries and confirmed that he was not.

  “I know now that that last night Pierce and I were together, my father had seen him dropping me off. He followed him. And warned him to stay away from me. Pierce was eighteen. I was underage. He could have been arrested for statutory rape. My father threatened him with charges if he didn’t leave and never contact me again.” She hadn’t known that until Pierce had come back into her life.

  It was the one thing she still held against her father. Not that he’d felt it his duty to protect his daughter, however erroneously. But because, even after he’d known about the baby, he hadn’t told her why she’d never heard from Pierce.

  “Pierce was injured in a fight with some insurgents one night...” She’d never told anyone. Not even her parents. “Physically, he recovered fully, except...he’s sterile,” she finally said. Permanently. Irrevocably.

  There were some problems love just couldn’t solve.

  * * *

  PIERCE WAITED FOR Eliza to call him Friday night. He was not going to let paranoia poison their relationship. Nor was he going to take away any of her personal freedoms. At the same time, as her husband, he had a right to know her business.

  Firmly prepared for her call, he sat in their dark bedroom, his cookies and iced lemon water on the nightstand beside him, as he waited for his phone to ring.

  Picked up on the first jingle when it did.

  “Ah, Pierce, it’s good to hear your voice. I miss you so much.”

  Pierce. Not babe.

  But she was missing him...

  The thought threw him into a bit of a tailspin. He’d been picturing her having the time of her life. Forgetting him for a few hours.

  Not missing him.

  “I miss you, too.” Not something he’d ordinarily say, either. Things were changing. They were changing.

  “I drove out in the desert today. I know you had enough of it in the Middle East, but here, Pierce, it’s...so vast. Incredibly beautiful. I felt such peace. And the mountains, they aren’t like anything we see back home. Every range is different. Different color. Different rocks. Different vegetation. It’s like, every few feet, anything is possible.”

  She’d spent her day driving in the desert. She’d told him. He hadn’t had to ask.

  Pierce settled back against the pillows, his head resting in the softness, letting down feathers cradle him.

  “How’s the weather?” he asked.

  “Beautiful. In the eighties today. And the sky...it’s so pristine. And blue. No clouds...”

  She’d taken in the weather. Not taken in a new life without him.

  “It gave me a lot of time to think, babe.”

  Here it comes. He didn’t bother lifting up. Their pillows could take the blow with him.

  “I just... I love you, Pierce. More than I think you’ll ever know. I just want you to know that. To believe it.”

  He did believe it.

  “I want you to let my love bring you real joy...”

  She wanted it, so he wanted it for her.

  Pierce just didn’t know how to tell her that he’d left any possibility of him knowing real joy in a tiny village in the middle of godforsaken territory in the Middle East. His capacity for joy had died right along with the eight-year-old boy he’d shot.

  Point blank.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ELIZA MADE IT a point to be early on the set the next morning. All of the contestants arrived together in the van—minus Grace, who rode with the friend who was staying with her at the con
do she’d rented. They all settled into the green room, some studying the recipes they weren’t allowed to take on stage with them, mental rehearsal. Some chatting and having coffee. There were hair stylists and makeup artists there to assist. Kaylee Newcomb, the young blonde who’d auditioned for the show as a way to break into show business, was availing herself of their services. Surprisingly, Jason Wright, the dark-haired young man with a popular fast food stand on the beach in Florida, was waiting in line behind Kaylee. As the most laid-back member of their cast, Jason didn’t seem the type to submit to someone putting goo all over his face.

  Eliza was curious about the process, about how she’d look if she let the professionals go to work on her, didn’t want to know badly enough to stick around.

  She wanted to check her kitchen. To make certain that everything was in place. Natasha had assured them, after the mushroom disappearance and near-disaster the previous week, that there’d be an extra preshow check of all kitchens for the duration of their competition. She needed this win.

  Especially with everything else going on, with Pierce, her son...if she didn’t win this show, if she didn’t prove to herself that she could be the best at something, the life would be squeezed out of her.

  It wasn’t like she needed the win to change the circumstances of her life. She loved Rose Harbor. Wouldn’t give it up even if she didn’t need it to make a living. She loved Pierce and wanted no part of a life without him.

  Yet the idea of being a winning chef...it changed things inside her. Healed things inside her.

  And maybe that was the answer she’d been seeking. She needed this to complete something inside her—not to change her external circumstances. She’d be better for Rose Harbor, better for Pierce and her marriage, if she could come home with a prestigious title she’d won by her own talent, hard work and diligence.

  Amid the flurry of preshow techie activity, another one of the local high school drama class interns was mopping the kitchens when Eliza entered the stage. Camille, she thought her name was.

  Being the proprietress of a bed-and-breakfast made Eliza conscious of everyone around her. Getting to know them. It made her great with names.

  She’d met Camille the first week of taping. The girl had been filling the refrigerator in the green room with drinks. She’d asked if there was any brand in particular that Eliza liked. She could make sure that some would be there each week.

  Later, Eliza had heard Camille asking Jason what types of snacks he liked. He’d said that he was fond of a certain kind of trail mix, and both of the previous two weeks it had been there. Eliza assumed she’d done the same for the other six contestants, as well.

  Natasha ran a great show. Right down to the smallest details of comfort food in the green room.

  And Camille was finished mopping. Ten minutes until call. Fifteen minutes before show time. The timeline was closer than she’d have expected, but Natasha didn’t want her contestants to have to stand around in their kitchens for a long period before go time. It was like she really, truly wanted every one of them to have the best chance to succeed. She seemed really to care about her contestants, not just about the show and the money.

  Other than checking supplies, they weren’t allowed to touch a thing until the clock started ticking. Anyone caught getting a head start was automatically disqualified.

  In her kitchen, Eliza went down her list, relieved to see that everything was where it should have been. Grace had come on stage right behind her and gave Eliza the thumbs-up, so her ingredients must have been complete, as well. A couple of other contestants trickled in. Luigi. The twins. And then, at call, the rest arrived and took their places.

  Eliza wasn’t as concerned about time that week. Their subject was dessert, and her cobbler didn’t require the full fifty minutes they were allotted for preparation. She’d need half an hour, tops, so she took her time. Reveled being in her on-set kitchen. Soaked up the whole television experience. Having a win under her belt helped ease the tension, too, though she still wanted to win this week’s competition. If she took all four wins, she wouldn’t have to make a sixth trip to Palm Desert for the final round. There would be no final round.

  She’d be the winning contestant...

  Aware that Saturday of the buzz around her as her fellow contestants moved about their kitchens, as measuring spoons, pans, bowls and mixers clattered, as oven doors, and refrigerator doors opened and closed, as faucets were turned on and off, Eliza smiled to herself. Measured apple juice, maple syrup and cherries, mixed them in a glass bowl and set them aside.

  She had to tend to the base, which would be baked. Flour and sugar went in the sifter. Next, baking soda, water and egg would be put in a bowl for whisking. Most people put the baking soda in with the dry ingredients. Eliza’s grandma had taught her to put it in with the wet. Said it gave the finished result a better texture.

  The lights were bright. Maybe her tapered white blouse had not been the best choice since it might start to show sweat stains. She just loved how it looked with her dark hair. Thought the contrast drew attention to her eyes. Which, in her opinion, were her best feature.

  Wiping her hand along the side of her navy pants—before she thought about the flour mark that would leave—she measured baking soda and tipped it into the bowl with a silent admonishment to stop being so vain. Was Kaylee’s whole star-struck mentality getting to her? Eliza didn’t even want to be a television star. She wanted to be respected for the talent she loved—cooking.

  Bottled water in hand—the kind she always used at home—she measured the tablespoons needed and with her other hand started to whisk the soda briskly so that when the water hit, it didn’t form globs. The egg would go in last, cracked on the side of the bowl with one hand while she continued to whisk—just as her grandmother had taught her.

  But first, whisk. Pour water and...

  It wasn’t so much that the mixture in her bowl did anything alarming. It just grew when it wasn’t supposed to.

  “What...” Eliza’s half-formed utterance drew the attention of the other chefs in her pod. The camera happened to be on her as well, so she caught Natasha’s attention.

  “Cut!” Eliza wasn’t sure who called the command. Natasha and other show workers gathered around Eliza’s kitchen.

  She was busy smelling the mixture in her bowl. She’d recognized the visual surprise seconds after it had happened. From a high school science class.

  Natasha and a security guard gathered on either side of Eliza. Her entire body flashed hot. And then cold.

  How could she have made such an incredibly stupid mistake? On national television?

  “It doesn’t really smell strong enough, but I think I put vinegar in with the baking soda,” she said, shaking her head. What idiot couldn’t tell the difference between a bottle of vinegar and bottled water? She’d been so sure. Floating on confidence and thinking about her looks.

  Well, didn’t she just look great now?

  No real harm had been done. The mixture in her bowl looked normal enough. An instruction went out over the microphone for all other contestants to continue cooking.

  Natasha reached around Eliza for the bottle of vinegar she’d mistaken for water.

  “Something’s been added to this water,” she said, her voice harsher than Eliza had ever heard. Grandma Grace came over, saying that her pie was in the oven, and looked at the bottle. Jason glanced up from the dough he was rolling.

  “Why would someone add something to her water?” Grace asked, frowning.

  “I apologize, Mrs. Westin,” Natasha said. “We will get to the bottom of this. First, though, will you be able to complete your recipe on time?”

  She’d have to start over, of course, with the wet ingredient bowl, but she’d only just started with it.

  She’d be disqualified if she couldn’t. It was in the c
ontract they’d all been required to sign. If for any reason a contestant couldn’t complete a menu item, whether it be a fault of her own or for any other cause, the contestant would be automatically disqualified from that day’s competition and could not hold Family Secrets, Natasha Stevens or any of the show’s personnel liable.

  “I can finish,” she said, still unsure what had just happened. She’d thought the mistake had been hers.

  And it hadn’t been?

  She smelled her bottle of water as Natasha had done. The smell of vinegar was slight. There couldn’t have been much of the liquid in there at all. But vinegar didn’t belong in her recipe...

  And she knew it would give it just enough of an off flavor to cause a loss.

  Still, she’d had extra time, and it would only take a few seconds to start this part over.

  Cameras were told to roll. They were back on air. With Natasha still in Eliza’s kitchen. The host explained the mishap as a mistake. Didn’t say whose mistake, nor did she explain further. She talked for a moment about kitchen safety. And then, on air, asked Eliza if she thought she could continue the day’s competition.

  With a smile on her face that was completely forced, Eliza assured her that she absolutely could. And then words just kept coming out of her mouth. “Thanks to my grandmother,” she said, her smile becoming more genuine as Natasha’s camera stayed on her. “One of the first cooking secrets I learned from her was always to prepare items in parts. That way, if something goes wrong, only one part is wasted...”

  Natasha moved to other kitchens, spoke with other contestants, asking them questions about what they were preparing. About their techniques. Asking for hints and secrets that their viewers could use at home.

  Eliza whisked water and baking soda. Added egg. She poured the fruit and syrup mixture and baked her cobbler.

  All the while wondering who among them was trying to sabotage her.

  And why.

  * * *

  THE MOST LIKELY culprit was one of the other contestants. Pierce had the thought as soon as he heard about what had happened. Eliza had called him as soon as the taping was done. As she had the week before.