Page 58 of The One Who Risked it All

My dad wasn’t far behind. “Carla Marie Putnam, what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his voice rising with each word.

I felt my own anger flaring up, but Eli squeezed my hand, reminding me we were in this together.

“We’re not asking for permission,” Eli said, a confidence I had rarely heard creeping into his voice. “We’re telling you how it’s going to be.”

I couldn’t help but smile, despite the situation. That was the Eli I knew and loved – brave, a little reckless, and always ready to stand up for what he believed in.

“You can’t be serious,” Harold scoffed, looking between us as if we’d grown second heads. “After everything that’s happened between our families?”

“That’s ancient history, Dad,” Eli argued, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side. “Carla and I weren’t even born when all that went down.”

My dad shook his head vehemently. “It doesn’t matter. A Wells is a Wells, and a Putnam is a Putnam. Oil and water, kiddo.”

I felt a spark of defiance ignite in my chest. “Well, then call us salad dressing,” I quipped, earning a surprised chuckle from Eli. “Because we’re making it work.”

The room fell silent, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I held my breath, waiting for the next explosion.

I took a deep breath, squeezing Eli’s hand for courage. “We know about my grandpa and Eli’s Aunt Carol,” I said softly, feeling the room grow still.

Harold’s face paled, while my dad’s eyes widened in shock. “He never–” he started, but I cut him off.

“Dad,” I held up a hand and met his gaze, “he did. Grandma told me everything. Grandpa got Carol pregnant.”

Dad shook his head. “No, he didn’t. She lied!” But his voice lacked the determination of his earlier outburst.

“She didn’t,” I said, careful to keep my voice steady. “Carol Wells was an eighteen-year-old girl. Whether she agreed to the affair or was coerced into it, Grandpa was the one who should have known better.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, his eyes on me.

I nodded, and my dad sank into the closest armchair. “But that means…” He glanced up at Harold. “My father? All these years—“ His words broke off, thick with emotion. I watched as the color drained from both men’s faces, decades of angerand resentment suddenly giving way to something else – was it shame?

I squeezed Eli’s hand. “We understand that you both thought you were protecting your families. But don’t you see? All this fighting, it’s cost us all so much.”

Eli interrupted, his voice steady despite the tremor I felt in his hand. “What matters is that both families are able to move forward.”

My dad slumped into a nearby chair, suddenly looking every bit his age. “He always swore she was lying,” he muttered, more to himself than to us.

Harold nodded slowly, his eyes meeting my dad’s across the room. “Jim, I thought you knew–”

“That my dad had taken advantage of your sister?” my dad finished, a wry smile twisting his lips. “I’m so sorry, Harold. Oh my… Carol. The child. Where are they?” His questions came out rapidly.

“We’ll sort it out, Jim.” I was surprised to find the reassurance coming from Harold. “Carol gave the baby up for adoption – a little boy.”

I sighed. I had an uncle I’d likely never meet, who also happened to be Eli’s cousin. Talk about complicated.

I felt Eli relax slightly beside me, hope blooming in my chest. “It’s time for secrets to end,” I said softly. “We can walk through this. All of us, together.”

The room fell silent again, but this time, it felt different. Less like a battlefield and more like... possibility.

I squeezed Eli’s hand, drawing strength from his unwavering presence beside me. His dark eyes met mine, a silent conversation passing between us. We’d come this far; there was no turning back now.

“Look,” Eli said, addressing both our fathers, “Carla and I love each other. We’re not asking for your permission, but we’d really like your blessing.”

I nodded, my voice steady as I added, “We’re in this together, no matter what. But we want our families to be whole again.”

I watched as Harold and my dad exchanged a long look. It wasn’t quite forgiveness – not yet – but something had shifted. The tension in Harold’s shoulders eased ever so slightly, and my dad’s perpetual frown softened at the edges.

“You two are really serious about this, aren’t you?” my dad asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

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