by Kathryn Shay
When she was ready, she stood. “There, I’m fine. No dizziness.”
He grasped her arm and led her back to the stage. The kids swarmed around her. Apparently, word had gotten out. “I’m fine guys. I did too many turns. I’m out of practice.”
Ronan walked her down the steps and into a seat.
Eliza let out a heavy breath. She was more concerned than she let on. She’d never fainted in her life. Maybe the stress of dealing with Sabrina and Bridget and Ronan caused it. But she’d never reacted to anxiety like that.
* * *
Ronan was a professional, so he carried on an acceptable practice, but he kept glancing at Eliza the whole time. When the night ended, the kids bade them goodbye—some squeezed her hand or arm—and left. Eventually, the room emptied except for Tyler and Brie, who were talking softly with Eliza.
When he reached them, his phone rang. He glanced at the number. Hell. Finn. What now? Turning away, he clicked on. “Hey, Finn.”
“I keep phoning with bad news. I hate it. But I got a call from the rehab center where Bridget is staying. She’s had a stroke. They rushed her to the hospital but I don’t know any more than that.”
“Same hospital?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
When he disconnected, Eliza asked, “What’s wrong?”
He pivoted back to them, raked a hand through his dark hair. “You won’t believe this. Bridget had a stroke.”
“Oh, no.”
“I have to go to New York.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, absolutely not. I’ll take you to the lake then leave from there.”
“Then you’ll have a much longer drive to New York. But I guess I probably shouldn’t go. You’ll just worry about me.”
Brie said, “We can take Eliza to your house and stay for a while to make sure she’s all right.”
“I’d really appreciate that,” Eliza put in.
“Thanks.” Ronan ran a hand through his hair. “I guess that’s the best option. Come on,” he said to her. “Let’s go to the office, you can get your things and I’ll give you a key.”
“We’ll bring the car around to the back entrance,” Tyler offered.
Once inside, she smiled and gestured to the desk. “Wish I felt good enough to do it on there again tonight.”
“Yeah, I…” His face paled dramatically. Oh, fuck.
“You what?”
He cleared his throat. “Liza, we made love here, right?”
“Yes. It was…” Her eyes widened. “We didn’t use protection.”
“And you’re not on the pill.”
“No. I—Ronan, I’m forty-three years old. I can’t be pregnant.”
“I hope not, Eliza.” He held her gaze. Now his was cold. “But if you are, there are ways to take care of that.”
Chapter 8
* * *
Ronan stayed in the hospital all night with Hayley and Finn. Bridget had been examined, and the diagnosis wasn’t good. She was paralyzed on her entire left side and hadn’t been able to speak. When asked, the doctors said the prognosis was iffy, as it was with many elderly stroke patients.
Finn had gone to get coffee in the morning—Hayley had dozed off on a double seat, and now, at six a.m., he and Finn faced each other grimly at a table by the window. They were both worse for wear: scruffy jaws, wrinkled clothes. He wouldn’t be surprised if they smelled bad.
His brother said, “This makes the question of where she’s going after she’s released moot.”
“Yes, it does. She’ll need constant care.” Ronan asked, “Has she given either of you power of attorney?”
“Yes, me.” Finn grimaced. “I was pissed about it at first, but now I’m glad.”
“I wonder if the rehab center where she was staying deals with stroke patients.”
“I don’t think so. It’s a cardio care place.”
“Then we’ll have to find somewhere else for her.”
Finn sipped his coffee. “Yeah. There are social workers here who help with that.”
“Is one of those cups mine?” Hayley stood before them, all rumpled and sleepy-eyed, her white top rumpled like theirs. “I can have one a day nursing.”
“Yeah, sis, I remember.”
She sat and they filled her in on their talk. “I guess that’s the only alternative.”
Somewhat later, they heard, “We’re back.” Paul carried little Livie in a sling at his chest. He’d come for an 11:30 feeding last night, but told them he’d give her a bottle if she awakened again. Hayley stood.
Her face transformed and Ronan couldn’t tear his gaze away. “Why hello, sweetie.” She kissed Livie’s head, then she kissed Paul. “Hello, to you, too.”
“Babe. She didn’t wake up until just now.”
“That’s a first.”
As if on cue, the baby wailed. Paul loosened the sling, Hayley swept up her baby and cuddled her close. “I missed you, love. Mommy’s here now.” She dropped down on a vinyl chair, undid her blouse and began to nurse. “Want a blanket?” he asked.
“No. We’re fine. There’s nobody else in here yet.”
They talked quietly while she fed the child.
And Ronan kept glancing at her.
Right from the first time he saw her and she was pregnant, Hayley had formed a bond with this child that only increased after her birth. His heart twisted in his chest as he recalled his last words to Eliza.
But if you are, there are ways to take care of that.
Hell, could he have been any more callous to her?
* * *
The next morning, Eliza walked around the lake house, thinking about the times she’d had here with Ronan. How they’d danced, then made love, how they watched Rebel together. How they planned and plotted the play, like they’d been doing for years.
But all that was over, regardless of whether she decided to have the baby or not. His innate reaction to her pregnancy revealed how much he did—or didn’t—care about her. The same way as when she mentioned loving him.
She was forty-three years old. Was this how she wanted to live, spending her time with a man who liked her, yes, but was not in love with her? With the advent of the baby, if it indeed was true, she knew she needed a man to love her no matter what they faced.
So, she sat down at the table and wrote him a note. Even now, she was worried about him. How was he dealing with Bridget’s new situation? How was Bridget? She started off with that, then when she finished, she went into the bedroom, tidied it up, and left the note on the bed. Then she packed her bags. At last glance, it looked like she hadn’t even been here. How symbolic. He’d forget her just as the house did.
She took an Uber to the train station, then boarded one to New York. After calling an Uber, she was in her apartment by 10 a.m. The memories were in her own place, too. How they’d made love against the door she now leaned on. How they’d come together in her own bed. So be it. The images would fade, like everything else did.
When she went into the bedroom, she stripped and slid under the covers. Blessedly, her eyes closed.
* * *
The lake house was unlit when he pulled up in front the next morning. Eliza must have gone to the playhouse. It was eleven o’clock, and practice didn’t start until five, but they usually spent the day there. After the night he’d had, he needed to shower and change then he’d join her.
Hurrying inside, he went to the bedroom, disrobed and stood under the hottest spray he could tolerate. How would Eliza act toward him? How could he take back his brutal rejection of her pregnancy? Was there a future for them?
He finally exited the shower, dried off, decided to forgo a shave, and went to the bedroom to get his clothes. He dressed quickly in jeans and a red polo shirt, then when he turned to find his shoes, which he’d hurriedly kicked off, he saw an envelope on a pillow.
Dread filled him.
When he was able to, he crossed the r
oom, picked it up and dropped down on the bed. In the light coming inside from the window, he read the missive.
Dearest Ronan,
I’ve gone to New York. I’m not sure I can carry on with the play, but I’ll make my decision by the end of this week. I’ve called Lisel and she can take over the ballet this week and the rest of the cast seem to know the basic steps. You’ll have to work with them on that.
I’ve left because I can’t bear to be near you. Unfortunately, what I feared about this friends-with-benefits thing has come true. I’ve fallen in love with you, deep romantic love, unlike the friend-love we’ve shared for a long time. Your revulsion over my pregnancy tells me that you don’t return my feelings. And I can’t continue our previous relationship with the chasm that separates us.
I promise to call you at the end of the week and tell you my decision about coming back to work on the play. Under any circumstances, I cannot live with you again.
I hope Bridget recovers. You’ve been through so much with her.
Eliza
Ronan swallowed hard. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this. However, now, in the clear, May sunlight, he should have realized she’d be angry. Hurt. And he should have predicted she loved him now, because she’d slipped and said it once. He’d ignored her words, but now he saw the truth in black and white.
He stood and left the house. He couldn’t stay there anymore.
As he rode his motorcycle, he realized the swirl of emotions inside him couldn’t be contained. So, he pulled over in the parking lot of a gas station. Took out his phone. And made a call.
Twenty minutes later, his cousin Rafe drove up in his red truck. Ronan got off his motorcycle, crossed to the truck and slid inside. “Thanks. I’m in no condition to drive.”
“Have you been drinking?” Rafe asked, worry in his voice.
“No. But maybe that would make me feel better.”
Rafe reached out and squeezed his arm. “What happened, Ronan?”
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Tell you what, let’s go back to the lake house, have coffee, then see how you are.”
“I can’t be there right now.”
Instead, Rafe drove to Mason’s Place, a little restaurant on the water. The weather was warm enough to sit outside. After they were served coffee, Rafe tried again. “Is it Bridget?”
“Partly. She had a stroke. She’s paralyzed on the left side.”
“What’s the prognosis?”
“Iffy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But that’s not what put me in this state.”
“Eliza?”
“How would you know that?”
“I’ve watched you together since she came out here. It’s obvious how you feel about her.”
“Is it?”
“You’re in love with her, I think.”
“Now that’s ironic. She left me because she says I’m not.” He said the words angrily, but he didn’t know if it was directed at her or himself.
“She left you?”
“Gone back to New York.”
“Hmm.”
“That isn’t even all of it.”
“Tell me the rest. I got all day.”
Ronan felt his eyes well. Hell, the last time he cried was when he found out about his father. “I-I-fucking don’t know how to even tell you.”
“Just start talking.”
Ronan poured his heart out to his cousin. The catharsis of saying what happened calmed him, and the gaping hole in his stomach closed some. “I feel better.”
“It helps to get the emotion out.”
Rafe argued, asked him to come to his house, but the thought of watching Kate with the baby was untenable. Though he was whipped, Ronan went to the playhouse and tackled the costumes with the school nurse who volunteered for the job. At four-thirty, someone knocked on the office door. Lisel.
He let her in. “Hey, Lisel. Eliza told me you’d be here to help.”
“Hello, Ronan.” She kissed his cheek and stepped inside. “Eliza said she wasn’t ill, but she needed a week to herself.” Lisel rolled her eyes. “That sounds like heaven to me.”
He smiled. He was an actor, after all.
When she looked around the office, her eyes brightened. “This is lovely. Your posters!” She went to stand closer to Swan Lake. “Wasn’t Eliza an exquisite dancer?”
“She was.”
“And your Rebel promo. We watched a few of your movies after the night you came to dinner. They’re wonderful.” She arched a brow. “You were quite a heart throb.”
He laughed, genuinely this time. “So, you can lock your purse in this file cabinet and sit.” He cocked his head. “What did she tell you about the dancing?”
“That she put all the choreography instructions up to this point in a file on the computer.”
Man, did she always plan to leave?
As Lisel stored her things, Ronan called up the files and printed them off. He checked the time. “I’d prefer you start with the cast dancing for scene two. Then you can take the rest of the time to work with Brie, who’s doing the ballet of Caroline when she’s older.”
“Fine by me. Tell me the plot of the play, though.”
They talked until it was time for the cast to arrive.
“Come out to the auditorium. I’ll introduce you.”
The group arrived and settled in the first two rows.
He stood in front of them, feeling the absence of Eliza. “Hey, everyone. We have a special treat in store. This is—”
“Where’s Eliza,” Mike Mason asked. “Is she okay after she fainted?”
“She is okay. But she needs a week off to rest. I’m sure she’ll see a doctor.”
A baby doctor. For his baby.
“Now, to replace her—”
“Permanently?” Maryann interrupted.
He hadn’t realized how attached the cast had gotten to Eliza. “Not permanently.” He hoped. “Now, this is Lisel Loring Woodward.”
Rumbles from the group:
“Oh, my gosh.”
“Lisel Loring? She never does anything like this anymore.”
“We don’t even see her much around town.”
Lisel stepped forward. “Hello, there. Yes, I do stay out of the limelight. I have two children and a wonderful husband and I’m living the life I want.”
“Did you ever dance professionally again?” Brie asked.
“No. I never went back to it. Now let’s get on with the play.”
Ronan called up the actors for Act 2 Scene 2. “We’ll start with the dialogue, and the blocking we gave you.”
But he couldn’t get Lisel’s words out of his mind.
I’m living the life I want.
Ronan wondered grimly if he’d be able to make that proclamation.
* * *
“You can sit up, Eliza.” Her gynecologist, Lynn Wilkes, had taken Eliza early in the week because her office had a cancellation. When Eliza was upright, Lynne added, “You’re about three weeks along.”
“Seriously? I thought only a week. That’s why I said I might be mistaken about a pregnancy.”
“No mistake about, but you’re three weeks along.”
Eliza did a quick calculation. The first time she and Ronan made love. “Huh.”
“How are you feeling?”
Like I’ve been abandoned.
“I fainted while dancing.”
“You’re still dancing?”
“I’m choreographer for a new play. I was demonstrating a fouetté. Spinning in circles across the floor.”
“Any other symptoms?
“Well, I thought it might be psychosomatic because I’m so early on, but my breasts are tender.”
“Not too early for that. Any nausea?”
“Seasickness.”
Lynne made notes, then looked up at her. “You can continue with the play, as long as you don’t do spins. Also, stay away from leaps, but even if you fe
ll, the baby would probably be all right.”
“I, um,” She stared at Lynne. And said the words. “I’m not sure I’m going to have it.”
“I’m sorry. I should have asked before all that. Shall we go over your options?”
Her eyes welled. “I guessed we probably should.”
Eliza left the office upset by the gruesome details Lynne provided about how to get rid of a fetus. But was it really a fetus? Now, it was probably only a few cells.
When she reached her apartment building, she was stunned to find Ronan standing outside. Wordlessly, she let him inside and up to the fifth floor, and only stopped and turned to face him once the door closed. “What are you doing here? I asked for a week, and it’s only been two days.”
“I know, but I was afraid…” He glanced at her pharmacy bag. “Where have you been?”
“To my gynecologist.”
His face drained of color. “You didn’t…you didn’t…”
He never bumbled like this.
“Spit it out, Ronan.”
“You didn’t have a procedure, did you?”
“You mean an abortion?”
His throat worked convulsively.
“No. I told you, I’d phone you when I decided what I want to do.”
“I…” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t want you to have an abortion before we got to talk.”
“Why?” She knew she was being cruel, but she couldn’t help it. “You’re the one who suggested it.”
“I know. That was horrid of me to do.”
“Yes, it was.” She softened, though. His face was lined with exhaustion, his eyes haunted. And she did love this man. Reaching out, she took his hand. “I think we’re having knee-jerk reactions. The abortion was yours.”
“And yours was coming to New York?”
“Maybe. I just couldn’t stay in Hidden Cove.”
“I’ve been thinking about you, and the pregnancy, talking to Rafe, and even a little to Lisel, and I’m not sure what I want here. Are you?”
“Not yet. Come sit.”
They went into the living room. She dropped down on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. He took her hand and she let him.
