Текст книги "Truth "

Chapter 21

When Claire looked into Harry’s tired, sad eyes, her anxiety melted into relief. She flung her arms flung around his neck and buried her face into his chest. She’d never expected to be so concerned, but she was. Her muffled words flowed without hesitation, “I just got your text. I was so worried. I was going to find you; to be sure you were okay.”

Slowly his arms encircled her frame and his chin settled upon her head. “I am.”

She led him into the apartment and offered him something to drink. He asked for water then changed his mind to wine. She attentively tended to his needs, as he explained what transpired.

“I would’ve been here sooner, but just as I was about to leave SiJo, we had multiple false alarms. I have no idea what was happening. We had sensors indicating people where there were no people. Sensors ignoring people where there were people.” He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to release his pent-up stress and continued, “I know it’s a computer glitch. I probably could’ve figured it out, but honestly, I wanted to get here. So, I left Jackson to deal with it and headed home.” He emptied his glass of wine. Claire refilled it and returned it to his hand. After a few sips he continued.

“You know, usually Palo Alto is quiet and calm.” Claire nodded. She didn’t have a clue how Palo Alto was usually, but in her short time it fit the description – calm. He went on, “I was almost home, on Hamilton, when this car pulled out of a parking space. It was like some kind of movie, happening fast, yet in slow motion.” He finished the wine, placed the glass on the nearby table, and took Claire’s hands. “I don’t mean to sound vain, but if it wasn’t for my quick reactions, I think I would’ve been the one placed in that ambulance.” He squeezed Claire’s hands as she remained silent, “Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking about you and our talk. When everything happened, I just reacted.”

Claire wanted to know about that talk, but he needed to discuss the accident.

“Before I knew it, this car pulled out of a parking space, heading the other direction, and then this taxi came up on my right. There wasn’t really a lane. He must have been in a hurry.” Harry closed his eyes and watched his private recall. Finally he spoke, “The car in front of me swerved, I hit the brakes, and the taxi moved into my spot. Suddenly, the car from the parking spot went into the oncoming lane and collided head on with the taxi. The driver of the car from the parking space was a young girl, only sixteen. I don’t know if she hit the gas instead of the brake.” He shook his head solemnly, “We’ll never know.”

Claire took a drink of her wine, definitely not a sip. She thought about Harry’s words, if it wasn’t for my quick reaction.... She’d experienced too many questionable situations to believe in coincidence. Finally she asked, “How is the taxi driver?”

“Distraught and injured, but not life threatening. He was on his way to a fare; so he didn’t have a passenger.” Claire kissed Harry’s cheek and asked if he wanted more wine or if perhaps he was ready for some dinner. When he nodded, she led him by the hand into the kitchen.

He looked around at the set table and pans on the stove top. “I’m sorry, I messed up your dinner. It smells wonderful.”

She smiled a wary smile, “I don’t think my dinner’s as important as you. You’re okay, that’s what matters.” She squeezed his hand. “Why don’t you pour us some more wine and start your salad. I’ll warm up this food. It’ll be fine.”

He continued to talk about the accident as Claire warmed the fish in the microwave and heated the sauce on the stove. Next, she refilled the sauce pan for the asparagus. As the faucet gushed water she heard Harry’s voice, but her mind filled with other words – Tony asking, “Who was the expected recipient of that dazzling smile?”

Tears came to her eyes as the realization struck. Her presence wasn’t making Amber and Harry’s life more exciting; she was putting them in danger.

The memories of her parents and Simon’s untimely deaths paralyzed her movements. Water overflowed the pan as she stood motionless staring at the tiled backsplash. It wasn’t the mosaic design holding her trance; it was her new thoughts about Amber. She’s flying home tomorrow from meetings in Houston. Simon died in a plane crash. Claire’s heart began to beat erratically.

Harry appeared behind her. So deep in her sudden rational or irrational terror, she didn’t hear him approach. She jumped as he grasped her shoulders. As if from a tunnel she heard his voice, echoing against the cavern walls, or maybe he was repeating himself, “Claire are you all right? Claire, Claire are you all right?”

Her grip on the handle of the pan failed. The metal pot fell to the depths of the sink as water droplets splashed violently coating the tile, granite, and porcelain. Her body trembled as she tried to speak, “It’s me. I have to leave. We need to call Amber.”

“What’s you? What are you talking about?” Harry tried to calm her; however, she barely heard his words through the commotion within her head.

Finally in desperation she screamed, “Call Amber, now!”

Still unsure of the reason for Claire’s sudden outburst, he turned off the water, reached for his phone and led Claire’s unsteady body to the table. Harry dialed his sister. Once the connection was established, he handed Claire the phone.

Her words ran together as she tried to explain everything to Amber. Claire told her about Harry’s accident, about Tony’s visit, and about her fear. Harry listened to every word. When she spoke about Tony visiting the condominium, Claire saw his neck stiffen and jaw clench. She pushed on.

Amber listened to what some might consider a mad rant. As Claire finished, her voice slowed, reflecting her utter exhaustion. She listened to Amber’s steady voice of reason as tears slipped from her downcast eyes. Her fatigue wasn’t physical; she’d slept until after five. It was psychological. All of the research was well and good. She could plan and possibly implement a great demise. However, none of that mattered, if her friends were lost in battle.

Only after Amber promised a thorough inspection of the SiJo plane prior to departure, did Claire hand Harry back his phone. Harry spoke to his sister for a few moments, hung up, and reached for Claire.

She wanted his embrace, his comfort and support. Nevertheless, she knew if she took what he offered, she’d in fact be condemning him. Resolving to keep him safe, she stiffly returned his embrace. With her head safely against his chest the trembling ceased. She started to speak, but Harry spoke first.

“I want to hear more about that visit. Why did he come here?”

“I was going to tell you about it and other things I learned...” She pulled from his hold and reached for the water goblet. It shook as she tried to make it reach her lips. “I just haven’t had a chance.” Her voice sounded stronger than she appeared.

Harry watched as Claire regrouped. He saw a mixture of emotions passing like clouds before her emerald eyes. Once again, he put his arm around her shoulders, “How about we eat some of this delicious food and then talk?”

Claire stared momentarily into his pale blue eyes. The intensity she’d witnessed as she told Amber about Tony was gone. Now, she saw concern. Claire replied, “I think I need to find a new place to live.”

“Let’s eat and sleep and then discuss it.”

Claire steadied her stance. “We can eat. We can sleep. But it’s my decision and I’m not putting you or Amber is harm’s way for my vendetta.”

Harry carried the dish of tilapia to the table and walked back to the stove for the sauce. Drizzling the white cream over the rewarmed filets, he said, “It is your decision. But I’m the head of security at SiJo Gaming. I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself. And as for Amber, we’ll arrange additional security.” He smiled a feigned smile. “Now eat. Someone made us a wonderful meal.”

Claire obediently picked up her fork. With her hand lingering above the plate he’d dished for her, she considered his words. Finally, she nodded.

Taking his seat across from Claire, Harry added, “And as of tomorrow, you’ll also have around the clock security. No more surprise visits.”

Her chewing stopped mid-mastication. Swallowing became difficult as her mouth dried. She didn’t like his authoritative tone; she’d lived through that once and didn’t plan on doing it again, no matter how pure his intentions. After a much needed drink of water, she said, “I don’t think that’s necessary. Tony won’t hurt me. He wants me back in Iowa, besides; I have Phil Roach watching me.”

Harry started to speak when Claire interrupted, “What are we going to do, ask Phil and the security detail to share a car? I mean with the occasional paparazzi, a private detective and a security guard, I might as well lead a parade.”

Ignoring her attempt at humor, Harry asked, “What do you mean he wants you back in Iowa?”

Claire looked back to Harry. The intense stare from earlier glowed. It surprised her, how the normally soft shade could stay the same, yet appear so different. She answered, “When he was here, he told me the reason he came to California was to take me back to Iowa.”

“Did you respond?” During the last two months, Harry witnessed Claire’s transition from a quiet guarded woman, into one who spoke more freely. Nonetheless, he wasn’t sure she possessed that ability while with Mr. Rawlings. That was part of the reason he’d waited for her after their dinner. He wanted to be sure the stronger Claire still existed. Last night, he wasn’t sure.

“Of course I responded. I said no.”

“And he was fine with that, and left?”

“He left. He isn’t still here.” Claire looked down at her plate as she stabbed another leaf from her salad. “He didn’t argue, but...”

“But what?”

“He said he wasn’t giving up his quest.” She ate some more salad and added, “I’ll consider the security.”

Harry nodded, and Claire began to relax. The food provided the much needed subsistence to her weakened body and mind. Without saying it aloud, they’d agreed to table the Tony, security, and housing discussion until later. Soon they fell into a benign chat about superficial monumental events. Apparently the Giants were tied one to one in a three game series with Boston. The next game was tomorrow; Harry wasn’t sure the Giant’s pitcher would be ready...

They fooled themselves, if they thought their conversation could be avoided the entire evening. After dinner, they moved to the living room. It was hard for Claire to fathom earlier the same day she’d sat in the same room with Tony. Now instead of sitting one on the sofa and the other on the chair, Claire sat nestled into the crook of Harry’s arm. Somehow the embrace didn’t feel sexual, only protective.

With her head against his shoulder, she pulled from his strength and thought about his patience. In the last hour she’d dropped a few bomb shells, and she had more to drop. Yet, unlike her ex-husband, Harry didn’t demand answers. Instead, he provided space and support. She said she would tell him more; he waited, allowing her the luxury of choosing her time and words.

With a deep inhale followed by an audible exhale, Claire began. “What do you want to know?” The warmth of his embrace on her shoulder and side, as they both stared into the Palo Alto night, fueled her courage. Before the night was done, she’d share the secrets of her life with Anthony Rawlings. She didn’t know what it would mean for their relationship, or if this was what he’d wanted to talk about. However, she couldn’t imagine being with a man who didn’t know her past, to understand her present.

When her history became difficult to articulate, he’d rub her shoulder and remain silent. There were times as she spoke about her kidnapping, agreement of duties, glitches, or her accident, she felt his body tense. Never once did he question her choices. It was if he knew she’d questioned herself too many times to count. She’d asked herself: Why did you agree to marry him? Did you really fall in love? Did you think he loved you? Why did you keep up appearances? Asking questions was much easier than answering them.

Harry continued to listen without judgment. Many times he squeezed her shoulder or kissed the top of her head. Each affirmation fortified her resolve.

She didn’t spare any aspect of her life with Tony. She also didn’t dwell on details. No secrets remained. Nearing dawn, she told him about the dinner. She explained how Tony arranged for an empty restaurant. Then she told Harry about Tony’s reaction to her knowledge regarding his birth name.

For the first time, Harry asked for verification, “Are you saying he didn’t send that box of information to you in prison?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” She turned her weary eyes to his face. “He was really stunned. That’s why he came here, to find out more about what I know.”

“Did you tell him?”

“I told him the package held pictures, articles, and a letter. He wanted to see it.”

Again Harry prompted, “And?”

“And I told him I’d burnt it – he laughed. I could tell he was relieved. But before he left, he told me not to share my information with anyone.” Her eyes widened. “Oh my god!” She jumped from Harry’s embrace to see his eyes, “I told him it was too late.” Her trembling resumed. “That’s why you were almost in that accident. He thinks I’ve shared the information with you and Amber. I need to get a hold of Emily. And...” Claire just remembered, “I dropped the phone I use with her and Courtney. It’s broken. I need to reach them.” Her words came in short increasingly sharp stiletto sentences. “I can’t let anything happen to her or John.”

Harry held Claire’s hands, restraining the explosive panic that surged through her no longer calm body. His voice was now calm and slow. “Do you possibly think you’re giving him too much credit? That accident was caused by a sixteen year old girl, how could that conceivably be traced back to Mr. Rawlings?”

Claire shook her head, “I don’t know. What about the sudden computer glitches at SiJo?”

“Sometimes shit happens.”

“I’ll feel better after I talk to Emily. But, I need another phone.”

“I understand the need for another untraceable phone to speak with Courtney, but why Emily? He knows where you are. He knows where she is; you’re sisters.”

Claire stared at him momentarily, “You’re right.” She reached for her iPhone.

*****

The angry sound of Derek’s voice brought Sophia out of her restless sleep. She could hear his tone and see his expression; she couldn’t understand the cause. With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Why Sophia? Why in the hell are you sleeping in here?” Disorientation from the sudden wake, muted her ability to speak. “I reached for you and you still weren’t in bed. I thought you might still be drawing. But you’re sleeping, without me!”

Her mind reeled, “How did you know I was drawing?” Her soft voice didn’t mirror his irritation, though it did a poor job of hiding her unhappiness.

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

This time a little stronger, “How did you know I was drawing?”

“I watched you.” As he spoke and her body convulsed with repressed sobs. “You looked so beautiful with your hair up, that sexy nightgown and charcoaled fingers.”

“But, you didn’t say anything. I never knew you were there.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. It’s the first time you’ve drawn since you moved here.”

She tried to turn her face away. His expression was no longer upset, she saw the man she loved. Even with limited light she could see the concern and relief in his soft brown eyes.

“Please don’t look away. Talk to me.”

She couldn’t move her arms with his hands on her shoulders, so she lifted her head to reach his lips. His hands left her shoulders and scooped her body into his arms. Between kisses, surrounded by his embrace, she whispered, “I thought you didn’t want me because I can’t be what you want.”

Derek stopped kissing and looked into Sophia’s beautiful gray eyes. The sadness made his heart wrench, “What are you talking about. You’re everything I want. When did I ever say anything different?”

She pushed herself up to sit. “You didn’t. But ever since I got here, I feel like I’m expected to be someone else, you know, Mrs. Derek Burke.” She wiped her eyes on the clean sheets, “I’ve been trying...”

“Stop trying. Stop trying to be someone you’re not. I love you.” His embrace squeezed the air from her lungs. Her body collapsed against his. “I’ve missed my Sophia. Besides, who the hell is Mrs. Derek Burke?”

Sophia smiled from behind her tears as the sparkle returned to her eyes. It was the glimmer Derek hadn’t seen in what seemed like ages. It was the most beautiful sight he could behold.

The last two weeks of stress melted into a fury of passion. For the next few weeks, every time Sophia walked by their guest room, she’d blush.

Together they reconnected their bodies and minds. Glorious sensations sent both of them to untold heights. When their exhausted bodies finally fell into tender embraces, their words revealed more of their misconceptions.

“I don’t want you to be anyone else. Not, Mrs. Derek Burke. You’re Sophia Burke and I love you!” His heart swelled with the recent vision of blue clouds floating across his wife’s beautiful eyes.

Sophia revealed her insecurity around people like Danielle and how she felt inadequate amongst the professionals in his life.

While allowing his lips to roam over her full breasts and tight midsection he tried to ex-plain and demonstrate his approval. Yes, she’s his wife. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her identity to be a reflection of him, only of her. “If you want to work at an art studio, and it’ll make you happy,” his smile shimmered in the darkened room, “go for it. Do what makes you happy.” Never once did he want to marry someone like him. Truthfully, he never wanted to marry, until he was awestruck by the most amazing, energetic, caring, and possibly crazy, woman he’d ever met.

They both knew they’d just overcome a difficult time for their marriage, learning a valuable lesson – the need to communicate. Neither should assume they know the other’s thoughts. They don’t. That ignorance keeps life exciting.

Inhaling deeply, Sophia nestled into his warm shoulder, listened to the beat of his steady heart, and drifted into a peaceful sleep. When she awoke he was gone, presumably off to work. For the last two weeks she’d tried to get up and make him coffee and breakfast. Smiling into the tear stained pillow, she realized he didn’t want or need that. He wanted her. Relishing the soft sheets of the guestroom bed, Sophia drifted back to sleep.

Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. 

—Confucius