Текст книги "Convicted"
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 35 страниц)
A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success.
—Elbert Hubbard
Each day was a little better than the last. Claire only allowed herself to cry or acknowledge her loneliness when she was alone in her suite. It wasn’t compartmentalization—she’d accepted her fate. These weren’t the cards she’d been dealt; no, they were the ones she’d drawn.
She reasoned that Madeline and Francis didn’t need to be burdened by her sadness, and her child didn’t need to experience the anguish coming from its mother—all of the time. Claire kept the sadness defined, and the rest of the time, she bluffed her way through. Fake it until she made it—her new mantra.
The odd thing—the thing that surprised Claire—was as she bluffed and feigned happiness, the real pleasures of day-to-day activities seeped into her life. One afternoon, while in the kitchen with Madeline and without pretending, Claire heard her own laughter. The light, foreign, and whimsical sound surprised her more than anyone else. It had been so long since she’d truly laughed that she almost didn’t recognize it.
On the afternoon after she and Tony spoke, she lay on her bed, phone in hand, for what seemed like hours. Her plan was well thought out and well designed; nevertheless, he hung up. The pain from his decision and her situation was physical. She’d experienced physical pain before, and this was equally as immobilizing. Had it not been for the child inside of her, Claire might have chosen to remain forever on that big bed; however, as the life within her moved and grew, she knew that she too, must go on.
The tides still rose and the sun still set. Madeline and Francis still did what they did. Claire had a decision to make; she either centered her life on waiting for his call or moved on. It wasn’t a desire—it was a need. Claire needed closure. With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she turned off the phone Tony called, gathered the cords, and placed all of the phones associated with the safety deposit box in a container. She wouldn’t trap him, and she couldn’t persuade him—all Claire could do was move on.
When her reality finally hit, Claire realized she was facing her greatest fear—Catherine had won. It didn’t matter that Claire knew the truth, or that she told Tony. All that mattered were the consequences of her betrayal. On a warm night in June, she and Tony stood in an open field and promised to trust one another. Even at the time, Claire knew it was a difficult promise for Tony; nevertheless, they made a vow. It wasn’t said in front of family and friends, but it was an oath. Although some of Tony’s promises over the years were made for the wrong reasons, he showed Claire more than once that he was a man of his word.
On that same night, Tony asked Claire if she was afraid of him. Claire replied: Of you—personally—not anymore. There was a time, but I’ve changed, and you’ve changed. No, I’m not. If only she’d focused on that—on her promises.
All vows endure tests. These tests were rarely planned—but they happened. Catherine planned Claire’s test, deceptively using Claire’s experience, her fear, and her maternal instinct against her. By failing that test, Claire was hurt—Tony was hurt—and ultimately, their child was hurt—all the children of children. Truly, it was an impressive win on Catherine’s part. She could live on that jackpot for a long time.
It was a few days after their conversation, when Claire saw the irony. In this strange world of vengeance, Claire did what Tony said Nathaniel had done—Claire had trusted the wrong people. She couldn’t take it back. Not only had she trusted the wrong people, she’d pushed away the ones who truly cared. Whether it was Emily, John, or Phil, they were all gone, and Claire knew it was her doing.
When she sat down to eat and Francis held one of her hands and Madeline the other, Francis’ words spoke to an entity who Claire remembered from childhood. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe—she did. It was that she wasn’t sure she deserved the blessings Francis described. One day, in the gardens, Francis told Claire about his personal journey. He wasn’t only a believer, but ordained.
Each day and each meal opened Claire’s mind a little more. Before she knew it, Claire was talking to God too. No, it wasn’t audible, yet it was comforting. She didn’t ask for anything. There was nothing more she wanted. She made promises, promises to focus on her new friends, her child, and her well-being. The more she talked, the more she listened. The replies weren’t words, they were peace. Claire didn’t know how it would work, but somehow, she believed it would. In a way, it was like being with Tony; she willingly gave over control of her life.
Tony took a deep breath. Although the multi-colored sea below him reminded him of his honeymoon, the tension in his neck and shoulders was something completely different. It was no secret; Anthony Rawlings didn’t like or want to be indebted to anyone. Truly, he could count the number of people, on one hand, besides himself, who deserved credit for anything in his life. Unfortunately, that short list went all the way back to his childhood; nevertheless, someone who was no longer obligated to him in any way may have changed his life forever. The jury was still out. As the small plane continued toward some mysterious island, Tony closed his eyes and remembered the happenings of the other night.
He’d bet everything on the money in his accounts. Hovering somewhere around 200 million, the possibilities for that money were limitless. His world began to crack and cave in when he signed the ledger. Tony knew, without a doubt, Catherine hadn’t traveled to Switzerland and accessed their accounts. She hadn’t stolen Tony’s money out from under him; nevertheless, on the ledger, and on two separate occasions, he saw the signature—C. Marie Rawls.
When he first heard Claire’s voice, Tony’s world exploded—the relief was instantaneous. Claire was alive! Their child was safe! He almost experienced a giddiness he’d never known; then all at once, the sensation evaporated and crimson saturated his happiness. No longer did he think about Claire’s safety—that was apparently assured. Now, the obvious dominated his thoughts—Claire willingly left him and stole his money.
As she spoke, he heard memories of her proclamations. Over the years, Claire had repeatedly told him that his money didn’t matter, yet somehow, he was standing on the street in Geneva, Switzerland, minus almost 199 million dollars. Claire quipped something about growing his investment. The only damn investment she needed to grow was inside of her. No! He reminded himself, she’d stolen that too.
Claire’s accusation made no sense. Who would know they were both children of children? The only person was Catherine, and Tony and Catherine had been together—forever. It wasn’t like they were together; however, they’d always been there for one another. He recalled catching her when she fell down the stairs, helping her after the incident—or rather accident—with his parents, and securing her freedom with annual payments to Patrick Chester.
It hadn’t all been one-sided. Catherine had helped Tony too. After Claire’s accident, Catherine was the one who convinced him not to call the police. She contrived the story that later became their statement. She helped with Claire, especially when he first brought her to the estate. Catherine taught her lessons that Claire needed to know. Tony knew he loved Claire, but he also knew he couldn’t abandon Catherine—not after everything they’d been through.
Anthony Rawlings was a businessman. He looked objectively at information and analyzed the ledgers. When he compared the two columns—he, unfortunately, saw more cons on Claire’s side. Catherine had been his rock, and more importantly—Tony’s connection to Nathaniel for as long as he could remember.
Then, there was the arranged meeting! Agent Jackson wanted Tony at Mulligan’s. From Tony’s perspective, it was ridiculous. If the FBI knew where he was then why not come to him? No, the directive was to meet at a public place.
Even days removed, the memories fueled Tony’s rage. Agent Baldwin—Agent! Harrison Baldwin was an FBI agent?! Why? And how? And when? Was it before or after he was with Claire?
After the initial shock, Baldwin convinced Tony to sit. It was then that Baldwin began some tirade about plants. Baldwin asked about Tony’s knowledge regarding plants. Although a few smart-ass answers came to mind, Tony honestly replied, “Nothing. I don’t know shit about plants; well, other than what I’ve learned from Claire.”
It was after the mentioning of Claire’s name that Baldwin got some sick smile on his face and smirked. “So, Rawlings, how is Claire?”
“I haven’t seen her in a while. You know that. I called you when she first went missing.”
“Missing? I guess she is...depending on whom you ask.”
Tony’s patience was spent on the call with Claire—no more remained. “What the hell do you mean?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, just the other day”—Baldwin offered his phone, turning the screen toward Tony—“I was in Venice, and she was in Venice...you can see—she’s well. Oh, she’s staying in disguise”—he lowered his voice—“I believe that’s because she’s hiding from some threat, someone possibly, but if you look closely, I’m sure you can tell it’s her.”
Tony stared at the picture—Claire and Baldwin with their hands entwined. Tony didn’t know what else was said. The rest of their conversation vanished behind a rush of rage. In hindsight, it was a good thing Baldwin made his federal status known. If he hadn’t, Tony might have been able to add bodily harm of a federal agent to his resume. Before Tony left the pub, he turned back to Baldwin and asked, “One question, asshole, was Claire some kind of informant—an assignment?”
It was the first sign of true emotion Tony saw on Baldwin’s face as he replied, “At first, she was, but it became more.”
Walking away, Tony contemplated his question and Baldwin’s answer. Although Tony wanted to lay him out and wondered if Claire knew she started out as some FBI project, as he settled into the cab, Tony realized, he was no better than Baldwin. The relationship he started with Claire wasn’t meant to be personal either; then, in the midst of his epiphany, the door to the cab opened. Tony started to speak, to ask the man to leave, when suddenly, Tony recognized him—Phillip Roach, the private detective he’d fired; the one who failed to protect Claire.
Education had always been important to Tony. He finished his bachelor’s and master’s with honors. Whenever possible, he read, researched, and acquired knowledge; however, in the past twelve hours, he’d been told by three different people that they possessed information he needed to learn. By the time Roach entered his cab, Tony’s receptiveness to tutelage ceased to exist.
After they entered Tony’s suite, Roach told him a story. If Tony hadn’t been one of the major players, then he would’ve thought the man was crazy, yet every date—every instance—and every detail—was verifiable in Tony’s mind. Tony had an uncanny ability to remember dates, names, and conversations. Somehow, through Roach’s story, everything he knew and believed took on new meaning.
Roach explained that he was the one to mail the gifts and cards to the Rawls—Nichols baby. He was the one who purposely breached the estate’s security and tried to run Clay off the road. He emphasized that on no occasion was Claire ever in danger. It was all a ploy to create fear and suspicion.
When Tony asked why, Roach’s answer was simple. “It was a job—Ms. London hired me.” The story of the laptop made Tony’s stomach turn. He couldn’t believe it had been in his own closet.
Yes, Claire should’ve waited and talked to him, but hearing it from Roach, seeing this new perspective, Tony’s heart broke for the woman he loved. He understood—Claire was too frightened to wait. It pained him that at that moment—she was frightened of him; however, that’s how it was meant to be—how Catherine planned it. Roach also explained that Claire defended Tony to Evergreen and Baldwin. He also mentioned how Baldwin caught her off guard.
Taking the time to listen and consider the timeline, Tony understood Claire’s reasoning and justified her fear. It was then that he remembered the phone call and reevaluated her words: Tony, I made a mistake—many mistakes. I believed someone else—instead of trusting you—and living up to our promise. I’ve learned the truth, and I want you to know that I trust you and that I’m so sorry. After everything—she still wanted him—and he’d hung up on her.
Now, as he and Phil approached her hiding place, he knew that the two of them had much to discuss, so much to say. He could’ve tried to call; however, he didn’t want to give her the opportunity to tell him to stay away. Honestly, he feared she would—the possibility still existed. Technically, he could argue that it was his money that bought the island, but he wouldn’t. Tony wanted to see Claire—to look into her eyes and tell her the truth. If she wouldn’t listen, then he’d leave.
Above all, Tony wanted to hold Claire in his arms, tell her how sorry he was, and how much he loved her. As the plane neared the water, Anthony Rawlings hoped she would give him that opportunity.
After an afternoon in the orchards, Claire took a leisurely swim, sunbathed by the pool, read, and napped. When Madeline woke her, she showered and readied for dinner. It was a variation on her normal routine, and with everything considered, Claire didn’t think it was too bad.
Running her fingers down the fabric of her pink sundress, Claire pondered her dinner companions. It wasn’t like she needed to look good for Madeline and Francis. It was an ingrained behavior—dinner meant formal. Truly, Claire enjoyed that. It was the climax to her day. Securing the shell necklace, she observed her hair—pulled up with ringlets of blonde and brown hanging down over her neck. In only a few weeks, the sun had successfully lightened her hair. Claire smirked, of course, what did she expect by living this close to the equator?
As they were about to sit down to eat, the sound of an airplane filled their ears. Where only moments earlier the sound of birds and surf dominated, now the roar of propellers amplified over the island. Claire’s first thought was Phil. Who else would know their way to her island?
When she stood, Francis placed his hand on her arm. Claire stopped as he warned, “Madame el, it is better if you wait to see.”
Instinctively, she hugged her midsection and nodded. Standing on the lanai, she looked down at the lagoon. As she watched the small plane land on the sparkling water, she felt her heartbeat in her throat. The landing and stopping of the propeller seemed to take hours rather than minutes. Perhaps it was the anticipation of greeting the first plane to land in the lagoon since Claire arrived, or more likely, her excitement at again seeing a familiar face. Regardless of the reason, Claire stood on the lanai with baited breath. It wasn’t until she saw Phil emerge from the small vessel, that she allowed herself to smile.
Losing her heeled shoes, Claire ran down the path, toward the shore. The green vegetation, colorful flowers, and lush trees hid her view of the beach. She was just about to call out—to shout to Phil—when she emerged from the foliage. As her bare feet hit the beach, they stopped and slowly sank into the soft sand.
Stalling under an arch of flowers and vines, Claire experienced one of those moments where time stood still—the sun and moon forgot their roles—the earth no longer turned—and the tides no longer ebbed or flowed. She stood speechless as a second passenger emerged from the plane and stepped toward the path. When he looked up, he stopped mid-step. Claire bravely met his gaze, taking in the darkest, most intense eyes she’d ever known.
Claire knew she’d seen every emotion in those eyes—from anger to adoration. Currently, she saw a mixture of apprehension and desire. With each second, desire overpowered apprehension—desire overpowered—everything—everything else—everywhere.
Perhaps there were stars falling, volcanoes erupting, or epic winds blowing. Truthfully, at that moment, the entire world could’ve been lost and neither one would have known. Later, when she reflected, Claire believed Phil had been speaking. He was giving reason or explanations—at the time, all Claire heard was the beating of her heart—maybe, just maybe, it was their baby’s heart. No matter, the whoosh—whoosh was what filled her ears and her consciousness. Unable to move, Claire stood, waiting for Tony to make his way to her.
Tears filled her eyes and spontaneously escaped her lids as she watched each elegant step. How could a world as perfect as the paradise, where she’d been living, have been lacking? In the last moments, seeing Tony gracefully move toward her, Claire knew her sphere was now whole.
When he was within reach, Claire remembered all she wanted to say—all the questions she’d compiled in her thoughts. Though the questions came to mind, with increased vigor, no words materialized on her lips. Standing tall and proud, Claire remained silent. She couldn’t calm the mayhem long enough to decipher her words. The best plan was silence until...
Without warning, one of Tony’s arms surrounded her growing waist and the other captured her neck. The sound escaping her lips couldn’t be classified as words. On the contrary, it was more involuntary as her body submitted to his. Every touch, every move, and every angle was determined by him. Claire’s body no longer waited for internal instruction. It was programmed to respond to the contact of the man towering above her, inhaling her aroma, and caressing her body.
His hands held her tightly within his grasp. She didn’t fight. Why would anyone fight their rightful place? Instead, the sounds from her mouth—the moans from her chest—were a plea, a request for more. Truthfully, Claire wasn’t even aware she was making the noises, yet she heard them. Within seconds, his fingers were intertwined in her hair. It wasn’t much, but Claire suddenly felt the need to apologize. “I’m so sorry.”
The strong, determined mission of his lips quieted further commentary, until he came up for air and said, “No, I’m sorry.”
Could six words mend an insurmountable gorge? At first, Claire wasn’t sure—until they did. As the words left their lips—the gap disappeared. They were together, and nothing could separate them. Claire was in Tony’s arms, tasting his kiss, and inhaling his amazing scent. The world beyond their bubble was suddenly insignificant. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, on the beach, holding one another.
His eyes held the key to her heart and soul. Peering into Tony’s dark gaze of desire, her world lightened into the place she wanted to be. Claire knew she could remain there for a lifetime. Then, slowly, the world around them infiltrated her senses—soft sand materialized beneath her toes—a gentle, salt scented breeze moved strands of her hair—the orange glow of the setting sun created an orange hue—and sound of propellers told them that the plane was leaving.
Unable to contain her sudden panic, Claire held tight to Tony’s hand and looked beyond their bubble. Heading back toward the plane was the man who’d made their world right. Claire gasped and looked up to Tony with her head shaking. “We can’t let him leave.” Then louder, she yelled toward the plane, “Phil!”
He looked their direction.
“Stay,” Tony commanded.
Phil’s progress stalled. He turned back as they walked toward him.
When they were all together, Tony held out his hand. While the two men shook, Tony said, “Thank you. We can never thank you enough.”
The glowing sun reflected in the golden flecks of his eyes. Phil looked to Claire and then to Tony. “You already have.”
Tony said, “I was wrong to fire you. You’ve kept Claire safe and brought us back together. I want you to work for us. Stay.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Rawlings, my bank account is quite healthy. There’s only one person for whom I’d be willing to postpone my early retirement.”
The rush of panic that moments earlier had filled Claire’s chest, as she saw Phil leaving, subsided. Smiling, she released Tony’s hand and took a step toward her babysitter—her bodyguard—her friend. When she was but inches away, she lifted her arms. “Please stay. You’ve given me back everything. I know I can never repay you...but I hope you know—I want you to be part of our lives.”
Their hug wasn’t intimate. It was nothing like the display he’d witnessed moments earlier; nevertheless, it was a connection—a bond he’d never before experienced. As Claire’s arms encircled Phil’s neck and her petite frame leaned against his chest, Phil knew that he’d stop at nothing to protect her, to protect her baby, and to facilitate her happiness.
He spoke softly, “Do you want me to stay?”
Her green eyes spoke volumes, but it was her words that secured his future, “Oh yes, more than I can say, but the decision is yours.”
“I have one stipulation.”
Tony stepped forward, protectively placing his arm around Claire’s shoulders. “And that would be?”
“I don’t do diapers.”
The lingering sound of the plane faded into the twilight sky as Tony, Claire, and Phil made their way up the path toward the house.
