Текст книги "Convicted"
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
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Текущая страница: 28 (всего у книги 35 страниц)
Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness .
—Euripides
Forty-eight hours of traveling took its toll—Claire must have fallen asleep because, when she opened her eyes, Phil was pulling the van into the Simmons’ garage. Even in the dark of night, she recognized the brick drive. Inside the garage directly in the beams of the headlights, Claire saw Courtney and Brent. Her heart leapt. “Oh! I can’t believe we’re really here.” Turning to see Tony’s face, she read a hundred emotions. Happiness or even relief didn’t seem to be the top contenders. She asked, “Aren’t you happy to be here?”
“I am.” He squeezed her hand. “I just realized the last time I saw or spoke to Brent we discussed something I’d rather forget. He probably told Courtney—” The van stopped as did Tony’s words. Claire watched Brent hit the button to close the door as she and Tony reached for their handles.
Phil stopped them. “Don’t open the van doors until the garage is closed. I don’t think we were followed—I took a lot of back roads, but you can’t be sure their house isn’t being watched.”
The reality of their situation came rushing back with the familiar pounding behind Claire’s temples. She’d taken some acetaminophen during their last layover before Iowa, but that was hours ago and the dull ache was becoming a nonstop pound. Trying to relieve the tension, she rolled her neck right then left. She wasn’t thinking, or she wouldn’t have done that in front of Tony.
“Do you have a headache?”
Claire smiled and shook her head. Telling him wouldn’t make her feel better, and she knew how much he hated her headaches. They reminded him of a time long ago. “I’m fine; what did you two talk about?”
Before he could answer, Phil had his door open and Courtney was rushing toward the van. Claire’s door sprang open, and without warning, she was swallowed in Courtney’s hug. “I’m so glad you two came here! Let’s get you in the house where it’s warm.”
Freeing herself from her best friend’s embrace, Claire interjected, “Thank you for letting us come...all three of us!” Tony had unbuckled the baby seat. Claire moved it to her lap, pulled back the blankets, and revealed their daughter. The biggest brown eyes stared up toward her mother’s voice.
“She’s beautiful!” Courtney squealed.
Tony was now to Claire’s door. “May we introduce Nichol Courtney Rawlings?”
Courtney put her hand to her lips as tears moistened her eyes. “Nichol Courtney?”
Tony nodded as a proud smile emerged.
Courtney hugged Tony and whispered, “We’ve missed all of you.”
Brent put out his hand. Though Tony had worked to mask whatever he was feeling, Claire saw a micro expression of relief as the two men shook hands. She wondered again what they’d discussed, many months ago.
Within the warmth of the kitchen, Claire removed Nichol from her seat while Phil casually asked where he could retire. Claire’s pulse quickened when Brent said, “Mr. Roach, let me show you to your room. Tony, would you like to join us for a minute?”
Although Tony showed no outward signs of concern, Claire knew from his earlier comment there may be need. As the three men disappeared, she wondered what they needed to discuss. If it was about Emily or Tony, then Claire wanted to know. Courtney’s voice brought Claire back to present. “We had no idea you named her after me.” Her blue eyes glistened as she asked, “May I hold her?”
“Her name’s a long story, but Courtney was a name we both agreed upon. You’ve always been so good to both of us. Of course you can hold her; let me change her first.”
Courtney couldn’t pry her eyes away from Nichol. “I don’t mind. Oh my, Claire, look at those eyes.”
Placing her daughter in her best friend’s arms, Claire replied, “Aren’t they beautiful? Just like her daddy’s.”
Claire followed Courtney through the house to one of their guest rooms. The men were nowhere in sight. Hearing Courtney talk on and on loosened the tight muscles in Claire’s shoulders and relieved the pain behind her temples.
“I’m so glad Mr. Roach contacted Brent,” Courtney said.
“Cort, you do realize this is illegal, right?”
“Honey, I’d break any law to have you here, safe and sound.”
Claire added, “And Tony?”
Courtney nodded before she closed the bedroom door, and asked in a hushed tone, “We don’t have a lot of time before the men get back. You promised you’d be honest with me.”
“I know”—Claire looked down—“I’m sorry about the way I left. Do you know about Catherine?”
“Yes, Mr. Roach filled Brent in on everything. We understand what you did and why you did it. Who would’ve ever imagined, sweet Catherine? We’ve been careful to never let on to anyone what we know. Mr. Roach said the FBI’s still working to put it all together.”
Claire listened as she changed Nichol and settled into a plush chair to feed her.
“I’m sorry,” Courtney said. “Do you want me to leave?”
“I don’t think I’d invite Brent in”—Claire joked—“but I’m fine with you.”
Glancing toward the door, Courtney lowered her tone. “I want you to know, we really are glad you’re here and safe. I don’t want to upset you, but I have to know.”
Claire braced herself for something. She didn’t know what; perhaps it was about what Tony had said. “What do you need to know?”
“Are you sorry?”
“Am I sorry? That I left without telling anyone?”
Courtney leaned forward. “No, are you sorry you allowed Tony back in your life? Is it truly different? You know, than the first time...”
The trip had been exhausting, yet Courtney’s directness continued Claire’s relaxation. It felt so good to be talking openly with her friend. There’d been too many secrets—she longed for truth. Claire settled against the soft cushions as Nichol, hidden discretely behind a blanket, suckled her breast. Smiling, she answered, “I don’t know what I was afraid you were going to ask, but that wasn’t it. Without a doubt, it’s different! He’s changed. I know some people say that people don’t change—but they do. I have too. The life we shared in our first marriage and before is a distant memory. For Nichol’s sake, I wish it could remain hidden. She doesn’t need to know any of that. Her father is a good man.”
Courtney replied, “But some new things have come up—things from that box you told me about—allegations and suggestions of other things Tony may have done—or at least, he may have been involved with.”
“I promise—I know everything. I’m not saying he was always a good man or a good husband. I’m saying he is now, and when we were here in Iowa, before I left, he was also. Courtney, he knows what he’s done, and he’s sorry.”
Courtney knelt beside Claire. “I believe you. I can see it in your eyes.” She reached out and held Claire’s hand. “I hope this can all be worked out. You’ve been through enough.”
“I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you along.”
“Oh goodness, don’t be sorry.”
Claire sighed. “As always, you’re there for me. Hopefully, someday I can repay the favor. I know it’s late; do you want to go to bed? We can talk in the morning.”
“If you don’t mind me being here until the men get back, I want to talk, and maybe when she’s done eating, I can hold Nichol Courtney.”
Claire smiled, her heavy lids fluttered as she stifled a yawn. “I’d love that.” Suddenly, Claire had a thought. “Tony knows that you two know about our past, doesn’t he?”
Courtney nodded. “The FBI showed him and Brent your testimony from 2010 when he was being questioned. After keeping his thoughts silent for almost two years, Brent confronted him.”
“Tony never told me. Well, not until we were almost here. Even then, he didn’t finish.”
“Brent didn’t tell Tony it wasn’t new information, but he did call him out.”
Claire smiled. “Tell Brent thank you. I know that must have been very difficult for him.”
Courtney shrugged. “It was good for them. Now, with all Brent’s done in Tony’s absence, I think they too will be better than before.”
Claire squeezed her best friend’s hand. “I’ve missed you so much. I only learned in the van that you’ve known our secret all along.”
“Once Tony disappeared, Brent knew he was out looking for you. He never thought he was hurt in the emergency landing. The FBI were too elusive. Eventually, Mr. Roach contacted Brent with a message from Tony. They hoped it would escape the FBI’s radar. After all, Brent was the one who hired Mr. Roach to track you last year.”
Claire listened in marvel as all the memories of the past twelve months cascaded through her mind. It seemed impossible that she’d been released from prison only a year ago; so much had happened.
Courtney proceeded to fill Claire in on her and Brent’s children. Maryn, their daughter, was about to complete her doctoral thesis, and Caleb and Julia were doing well. As Courtney took Nichol from Claire’s arms, she added, “No grandchildren—yet.”
Claire remembered how Courtney wanted them. “Well, hopefully one day we’ll be living back here, and you can be Aunt Cort or Grandma if you’d prefer.”
“Oh no, Aunt is just fine, even when I am a grandma we’ll need to come up with a younger sounding title.” Claire went to their bags to get her things, when Courtney’s voice rose in volume. “Oh, my goodness, you probably don’t know!”
Startled, Claire turned and asked, “Know what?”
“You’re going to be an aunt!”
Staring at Courtney’s nodding head, Claire teetered between excited and scared. “Emily’s pregnant?”
“Yes, but she isn’t due until July. We started talking periodically after you disappeared.”
“And, even after you knew we were safe, you didn’t tell her?”
“It was difficult, but not telling her was supposed to keep her and John safe. Brent hated what they were doing to Rawlings Industries, but Mr. Roach assured us that Tony thought it was best.”
Claire collapsed on the edge of the bed. She was too tired to censor everything she said. Shock and disbelief were evident in each word, “Tony knew? He knew you had information that would convince John and Emily to stop their pursuit of Rawlings Industries, and he told Brent not to use it? He chose my family over his company?”
Courtney’s blue eyes twinkled. “He did, sweetie. He didn’t know about Emily’s baby, probably still doesn’t, but he knew about the plan to keep them safe. Actually, I think the plan was his idea. That’s why I thought you were all right. I hoped and prayed”—she squeezed Claire’s knee—“It was just that seeing you—I needed to be sure.”
“I am. Now, I’m even more worried about Emily. Oh, my God, she’s pregnant! I wonder if that’s why Catherine wanted to see her. I mean, now there will be another child of a child”—her hands trembled—“Why would Emily agree to visit Catherine?”
“I wanted to tell her not to come. I even tried to dissuade her—I told her I could get things from the house. She said she wanted to see everything herself.”
“That’s my sister. She probably thinks she’ll learn more about me if she goes to the estate.” Claire tried to focus on all the issues. “With all the bad publicity she and John generated, how bad is it for Rawlings Industries? I’ve tried to keep up, but it isn’t the—”
Before Claire could finish her question, the ladies turned to see the opening door with Tony’s questioning eyes peering toward them. Grinning, he opened it wider and exposed Brent. “I wanted to be sure Nichol was done eating,” he explained as both men entered the room.
It was obvious that Tony and Brent’s issues were resolved. The four friends had entered a new world. Too much time had been lost to secrets. In the midst of chaos, they’d reached understanding and openness.
Tony large hands massaged Claire’s tight shoulders as Brent stepped closer to Nichol. She was sleeping soundly in Courtney’s arms. Approvingly, he remarked, “You did great, Claire. She’s beautiful!”
Courtney added, “Wait until you see her awake. She has the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes.”
Tony laughed. “Evidence that Claire had a little help.”
“I hope we can all be together tomorrow evening. I have a meeting in Chicago”—looking at his watch, Brent added—“in less than six hours, so perhaps we should get some sleep.”
Courtney asked, “Do you know how long you two will be here?”
Claire looked to Tony. She wanted him to be in control. No—she needed him to be in control. She knew, in order for everything to work, he needed to take charge. Finally, he answered, “We don’t. We’ll need to see what happens tomorrow.”
Courtney kissed Nichol’s head as she handed her back to Claire. Before the Simmons’ left the room, Brent added, “Claire, I can tell you’re scared. I like Roach—he’s good. As long as he and Tony work together, everything will be fine.”
They all knew there were no guarantees. Too many things could happen in the next twenty-four hours—Claire refused to consider the possibilities; instead, she nodded and smiled at their best friends as they closed the door. Claire laid their sleeping daughter on the soft sheet of a portable crib near the foot of their bed and covered her with a thin blanket. Envying Nichol’s innocence, she knew it was like her glass house from years ago—quietly, she said a prayer, “Please, God, help us all work together and not allow it to shatter.”
Before Claire walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed, Tony seized her arm and pulled her toward him. “Brent’s right—you were right—Roach is great. His knowledge and expertise has exceeded my expectations, and I’ll listen to his advice. Tomorrow, after I get back, we’ll decide when we’re leaving.”
Claire nodded. She couldn’t respond verbally if she wanted—the lump in her throat was too big to swallow. Burying her head against his chest, she enjoyed the sensation of his arms around her, a shield to keep all the bad away. For the moment, she could pretend everything was all right and forget about the danger. After all, compartmentalization was her specialty.
As they settled into bed, Claire asked, “The thing you remembered in the van, about the last time you talked to Brent, is everything settled?”
Tony wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. Claire’s head rested on his shoulder, she inhaled his musky scent, and listened to his confident tone, “Yes, I believe we’ve reached an understanding.”
“They didn’t have to help us like this.”
“You’re right. Someday, we’ll repay them.”
Nuzzling against his skin, Claire considered pressing Tony to confess the subject of his and Brent’s argument. She wondered if he’d tell her, but then she wondered why she wanted him to confess. After all, that testimony was about another time—another life—a life she had no desire to discuss or remember. Soon, her thoughts faded into nothingness. Traveling had worn her out—sleep would no longer wait.
A friend is one who walks in when others walk out .
—Walter Winchell
Meredith desperately tried to scroll the contacts in her phone. Her trembling hands, combined with the emotion coursing through her veins, made the simple task more complex. Did she want to go to jail? Was that her goal? If it wasn’t, why then did she continually find herself in these precarious situations?
It had been almost two weeks since Claire came out to her family. With each passing day, she seemed stronger and more resilient. She now engaged in flowing conversation—her one word or phrased responses were a thing of the past. Meredith surmised it was a testimony to Claire’s thoughts. Instead of having fleeting, individual ideas which Claire felt the need to protect, her thoughts now came together in embellished trains—much more conducive for speech.
There were also marked improvements in Claire’s appearance. Truthfully, it wouldn’t have taken much to enhance the lost vacant expression she’d possessed for so long. Just the addition of recognition to her green eyes made her appear a different person; then add hair color and some light make-up, and Claire Rawlings was back. Of course, no one referred to her that way—she was still Nichols as far as the staff at Everwood was concerned. As long as Emily was in control of her care—that wouldn’t change. Emily’s control was undeniably the cause of Meredith’s trembling hands. Claire was more than capable of making her own decisions, yet Emily’s power of attorney hadn’t been lifted.
It wasn’t that Claire’s demands were unreasonable—she wanted access to her daughter—to see her—to touch her—and to love her. The pictures of Nichol, that now decorated Claire’s more colorful room, were a blessing upon arrival; however, with each passing day, they served as a reminder of the beautiful young girl who remained two dimensional. Maybe it was too early—that was Emily’s continual answer to Claire. What if Claire relapsed? It wouldn’t be fair to Nichol.
While Claire’s desire to see Nichol sparked Meredith’s fury, it was Claire’s desire to see anyone that fueled the vehemence to the point of this impending phone call. Courtney Simmons’ number had been programmed into Meredith’s phone for a while; however, since the Vandersol’s were still unaware of her true identity—calling that number was a risk, perhaps even an invitation to a potential jail sentence.
Closing her eyes, Meredith remembered the tears of her friend only minutes earlier when Meredith exited Claire’s room. For two years, Claire had been unaware of her surroundings, yet content. In two weeks, she’d made phenomenal progress and experienced reoccurring disappointment. Although Meredith hadn’t left Everwood’s parking lot, she decided to throw caution to the wind, yet again. The corner of her phone read—8:57 PM. Swiping the screen, she found Courtney’s number and prayed. She couldn’t guarantee that her current willpower would be present tomorrow or even in ten minutes; Meredith needed to make the call now.
On the second ring, she heard Courtney’s voice, “Hello, this is Courtney.”
“Hello, Courtney, please don’t hang up. This is about Claire Rawlings.”
The momentary silence accelerated Meredith’s heartbeat. Finally, she heard, “Who is this?”
“My name is Meredith Rus—Banks.”
“Goodbye.”
Meredith spoke quickly, “Please, Courtney, I know you know who I am, but this isn’t about a story—it’s about Claire. She’s my friend too—and she needs you.” The words came so fast, Meredith hoped they were separated by enough space to make sense. When the line didn’t go dead, Meredith continued, “She’s doing much better. She’s asked for you.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’m in Cedar Rapids right now. Will you please meet me? I think it’s better if I explain in person.”
After what Meredith assumed was cautious deliberation, Courtney replied, “Fine, perhaps I should call John or Emil—”
“I know Emily hasn’t allowed you to visit. You don’t have any reason to believe me, but I can help you and Claire if you’ll please meet with me—alone. If you call them, I don’t know when you’ll be able to—”
This time, Courtney interrupted, “All right. Where can I meet you?”
Meredith remembered to breathe. “Thank you, I can be in Iowa City in...”
Short’s Burger and Shine was a popular bar, and although Meredith thought a drink to calm her nerves sounded like a good idea, that wasn’t the reason the two women had come to this particular establishment. Basically, it was a matter of convenience; the hour was late, and the small quaint pub on Clinton Street was open. When Meredith arrived, she saw Courtney seated at the last booth. The long, narrow room with the brick walls echoed with the sound of happy patrons; nevertheless, Courtney’s expression, as she watched Meredith approach, told Meredith that Courtney didn’t share the joyous elation of the others.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” Meredith offered as she eased herself up the platform and into the hard booth.
“I’m not usually a rude person, but I hated your book, and I guess I’ve transferred those feelings to you. Tell me why I’m here and make it quick.”
Meredith momentarily looked down and took a deep breath. “I understand. This isn’t about my book, or even a new story, although I admit it started that way.”
Courtney raised her brow.
“About three months ago, I asked Emily’s permission to visit Claire. She denied me.”
Courtney nodded in agreement.
Meredith continued, “My goal was to learn the rest of the story. I guess I wanted to write something that would make Nichol proud of her parents.”
Courtney continued to listen silently.
“Since I couldn’t go to Everwood openly, I decided to apply for a job there. I did. I got it. Over time, I worked my way into Claire’s room as part of her dietary team.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a restraining order—”
The waitress interrupted, “Ladies, what can I get you?”
The thought of that drink was getting better and better. Finally, Meredith asked, “Can I get you something for joining me? Or are you leaving to pursue the violation of that order?”
Still somewhat stunned by Meredith’s open confession, Courtney answered, speaking to the young girl near the end of their table, “I’d like a glass of white Zen, please.”
Meredith added, “Make that two.” When the girl walked away, Meredith leaned forward. “Thank you, I knew it was a risk to come to you. You could turn me in to the police, to Everwood, or to the Vandersols, but if you don’t, maybe I can help you see Claire.”
Courtney nodded. “I’ve been trying to see her since she was first admitted. Each time I ask, I’m met with comments about not having visitors for her own good.”
After the wine arrived, Meredith walked Courtney through her three month journey—she shared everything. When she spoke about Claire’s original condition, Courtney was unable to suppress the tears. “I’d heard she wasn’t talking, but I had no idea it was that bad.”
Meredith told her about the recent change. “She wants to see you. I think she’s trying to put the pieces back together. She’s trying to recall what happened to get her where she is today. She also wants Nichol, but I can’t do anything about that. I thought maybe if you spoke with her. Maybe you could help her with some of the details. I mean, you were at the trial, right?”
“I was. What does she remember?”
“I’m not sure. One of her therapists told her to journal. She’s supposed to write about her feelings and things that happened. I haven’t read them; she hasn’t offered. Claire did say she’s writing about Tony.”
At the mention of his name, Courtney looked into her near empty glass. “I was told that if I were ever to get the opportunity to visit then his name couldn’t be mentioned.”
“As was I—it’s a documented means for immediate dismissal, but, well”—Meredith shrugged—“I broke that rule too. He was the topic that I believe brought her back. Oh, it was the medications that helped her hallucinations go away, but it was his name that pulled her back. She said she missed seeing him, and when I started recounting the stories she’d told me, it helped her remember.”
“I want to go”—Courtney’s blue eyes smiled—“I’ve been known to break a rule or two myself. Thank you for including me. I’m sorry I was so rude when you first arrived.”
“I understand. Despite all that the book has done for me and my family financially, if I could do it again, I wouldn’t write it.” After Meredith took a drink, she rephrased, “Maybe not. I mean, that knowledge helped me to help Claire, so I understand where you’re coming from, but it might have been written for this reason—who are we to know the grander scheme?”
Courtney shrugged. “How can we do this?”
With the animosity gone, the two women worked toward a common goal and brainstormed ideas. During their second or third glass of wine, Courtney and Meredith devised and tweaked their plan. Though it was almost October, the days were staying warm with a sunshine whose rays shone until early evening. Meredith would take Claire on a walk, and Courtney would join them at the far west end of the grounds. It would be a short hike for Courtney to park and meet them undetected, but she didn’t mind. As long as it didn’t rain, they planned a visit for the next evening. When they left the restaurant, Courtney hugged Meredith. “I can’t tell you how excited I am. Thank you for all you’ve done.” Still gripping her shoulders, Courtney’s speech slowed and she added, “And, if you use any of this to write another book, I will personally come after you.”
The late afternoon September sun glistened through the trees. Claire didn’t know why Meredith rushed her dinner. It wasn’t that she minded, but she could tell something was different. It wasn’t until they were away from Everwood’s immediate grounds and into the paths through the woods that Meredith finally explained, “I have a surprise for you. I hope you’re all right with it.”
Claire eyed her friend suspiciously. “I trust you; however, I’m just not a fan of surprises.”
“I think you will be this one time. I know Emily has made it difficult for you to reconnect with anyone.”
Claire exhaled. “Difficult is a nice word. I mean, I understand her reasoning with Nichol—I do. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see her. I think about her constantly. It’s just that I want to see others. It almost feels like—”
The squeeze of Meredith’s hands stopped Claire’s words. She saw a figure up ahead, through the darkening forest. Unconsciously, her steps slowed. Claire could tell it was a woman. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the numbers—suddenly, she realized she was counting her steps—twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five—She worked to block out the numbers and concentrate on the person ahead.
Claire continued walking.
Slowly, the figure came into view—the person took shape and her face became clear. Gasping—Claire realized it was Courtney—merely yards in front of her. She dropped Meredith’s hand and ran to her friend. By the time they embraced, tears covered both of their cheeks.
