Текст книги "Convicted"
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 35 страниц)
Never have plans for the future as you never know how things will turn out .
—Nigella Lawson
Claire clung to Tony’s hand, listened to the voices, and responded appropriately. As long as she held on—as long as they touched—she knew he was real. The Everwood administration required them to meet with doctors and administrators before granting Claire’s release. With Brent’s legal documentation and Emily’s concession, these meetings were Claire’s last hurdle to freedom.
She watched in awe as the Tony from her memories argued for her release. There was nothing about the man in the Armani suit with the gelled back hair and perfect diction that hinted toward ex-con. Tony personified affluence and business success. He sounded like a CEO. Never once, despite what a doctor or therapist said, did Claire doubt Tony’s ability to fulfill his promise—she’d be going home.
Once in a while, Brent would need to remind someone of Tony’s legal rights as her husband. It warmed her heart to see the two of them working together on a common goal. Occasionally, someone would ask Claire a question—some were simple—the date or name of the president. Others were questions about her feelings or concerns. After each appropriate answer, she’d feel the squeeze of Tony’s warm hand or see the reassurance of his smile. It didn’t matter that behind the smile she also saw sadness. They had both endured too much. What mattered was that they were together and soon they’d have Nichol. Claire couldn’t wait to leave the facility and have her family united. With each second, her anticipation grew. She knew, when they were, again, a family, the sadness would leave Tony’s eyes, and she’d see the light chocolate brown they once had in paradise.
After they’d signed the last document and answered the last question, she whispered in his ear, “Let’s go get Nichol.”
She expected a smile and a nod—some sign of affirmation. Instead, he directed the Everwood staff, “Gather all of Mrs. Rawlings’ things. I want everything sent to our home.”
Claire offered, “I don’t need everything. I can get the things I want.”
“No, you can go through it later. We’re getting you out of here. You aren’t spending another second in this place.”
She didn’t argue—nor did she want to. Although she detested having the facility’s staff direct her movements, she loved Tony’s control. It was his way of protecting her. She knew that. Yes, he could be domineering, but she’d missed every part of him, his overprotectiveness included.
John was now waiting with Emily as Tony and Claire exited the administrator’s office. When Claire saw her family, her body tensed in anticipation of a confrontation. Before she could speak or devise a mental plan, John held out his hand.
“Anthony.”
With his hand extended, Tony replied, “Tony—please, call me Tony. Thank you, John, for all you’ve done while I was away. Brent tells me you’ve been quite helpful at Rawlings.”
“It was for Nichol and Claire.”
Tony nodded. “And for that—for our family, I thank you.”
“I’ve been privy to many of your decisions. I want you to know, I respect them.”
“Then I hope my return won’t cause you to search for another job. Rawlings Industries and I can always use someone like you on our side.”
John nodded. “Emily and I need to talk, but I think I’d like that.”
Claire released Tony’s hand and encircled John’s neck. Her emotions were all over the place. One minute, she was excited and the next, she was unsure. As she hugged her brother-in-law, tears of joy fell from her eyes. “I had no idea you were working at Rawlings.”
Claire released John and immediately hugged her sister. “Thank you, Emily. Thank you for not fighting this.”
John explained, “Anth—I mean Tony’s right, and you’re right, we are a family—for our children, we need to behave like adults.”
Claire stammered, “C—children—I can’t wait to see Nichol and meet Michael.”
Emily’s eyes filled with tears. “She’s so little. She won’t understand—”
John spoke over Emily, “Your daughter is beautiful and intelligent—she’s also young. As long as we do this together, she’ll make the transition just fine.”
Claire looked up at her husband. Although she wasn’t sure what she expected to see, the sadness mixed with gratitude took her by surprise. Taking one of his hands, she said, “We’ve missed so much. I can’t wait to hold her again.”
Tony replied, “Thank you again, not just for Rawlings, but for taking care of Nichol. We’re anxious to come and see her, but first, I’d like to take Claire somewhere. It won’t take long, and then we’ll be over to your house. The child psychologist I consulted recommended a gradual transition before we bring her home to stay.”
“I thought...” Claire’s heart ached.
Emily’s moist eyes came to life as she nodded. “Yes—gradual, I think Tony’s right.” She feigned a smile toward Tony. “Thank you. This’ll give us time to talk with her—to try to explain things. Let’s make this as easy for Nichol as possible.”
When they all walked outside, Claire lifted her face toward the sky. Inhaling, she savored the fresh autumn breeze. Despite the gray sky, the changing leaves added color to an otherwise dark day. An overwhelming sense of freedom momentarily paralyzed her movements.
“What is it?” Tony asked.
“It’s beautiful. The trees are colorful and the season is changing. It feels so good to be free.”
Tony smiled and wrapped his arm around Claire’s shoulder. “I want to show you something.”
For most of the drive from Cedar Rapids to Iowa City, Claire watched the landscape through the window, and with her hand in Tony’s, she contemplated their family. Of course, it would be hard on Nichol. Why hadn’t she thought of that? But Tony had. He’d even consulted a child psychologist. Claire rested her head against his shoulder. After everything they’d been through the world was right—Tony would make everything right.
When she recognized their location, she asked a question she hadn’t thought to consider, “We’re near the estate. What about the fire? Was there a lot of damage?”
His eyes twinkled. “That’s what I want to show you.”
Nervously, Claire watched as they drove toward the entrance. The front gates opened and they wound up the familiar drive. When the trees parted, Claire gasped. “What happened?”
“You don’t like it?”
She heard the disappointment in his voice, but she couldn’t lie. “I—I don’t know? Did the whole house burn?”
“No. There was a lot of smoke and water damage, but the fire was pretty much contained to the first level southwest corridor.”
As soon as Tony stopped the car, Claire opened her door. Silently, she stood trying to comprehend the grand, white, brick structure. Mesmerized, she stared at the tall windows, long porches, black shutters, and lovely columns. The landscaping was perfect, with tall trees and beds of colorful mums. At one end of the house, there appeared to be an enclosed porch, while at the other end, she saw a carport.
Finally, Tony asked, “Do you want to see the inside?”
Claire didn’t move—it didn’t seem real. Searching for answers, she asked, “What happened to our house?”
“I had it demolished. I built for the wrong reasons”—he took her hand—“it was our house, but it was never a home. It contained too many memories.”
“So, you got rid of it? Tony, there were good memories there too.”
“I built that house for Nathaniel.” His brown eyes sparkled. “Claire, I had this home built for you.” Standing in front of her, he tugged her hand. The uncertainty behind his eyes pulled her forward; she allowed him to lead her inside.
The entry was beautiful—instead of marble, the flooring was a light polished oak. Immediately, Claire felt the warmth of a home. Yes, the estate had been their house, but there were times it felt more like a museum. As Tony took her from room to room, Claire saw the attention to detail—bookcases, cabinetry, custom ceilings and intricate lighting. The back of the house was nothing but windows. In the living room, the windows extended two stories. When they entered the kitchen, her eyes shone. It wasn’t the industrial kitchen of the old mansion. This room was designed with a family in mind. The granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, ornate tile work, stone floor, and back wall of glass all added to the casual yet luxurious feel.
“Oh, this looks like a kitchen where I’d love to cook.”
Tony smiled. “You have a cook, but it’s your kitchen. You can do whatever you’d like.”
The lower level contained all the amenities of the old house: a theater room more modern than before, a fun family area, as well as an exercise room and lap pool. When they entered the pool, Tony squeezed Claire’s shoulders. “I couldn’t build you a house without your favorite room.”
Speechless, she shook her head. Finally, she whispered, “It’s beautiful, thank you.”
Next, Tony took Claire upstairs to Nichol’s room—it was a room fit for a princess. Shades of pink and purple dominated the senses as the canopy bed set center stage. Each door or drawer Claire opened was filled. The closets were stocked with clothes and shoes, while the shelves were full of books and dolls. Lastly, he led her to the master bedroom suite.
Compared to the rest of the house, Claire was surprised by the darkness of the room. Letting go of her hand, Tony walked to the far wall and lifted a switch. The draperies moved and the room filled with natural light—more ceiling to floor windows. Claire gasped. In the middle of the windows were two large French doors. He opened the doors, allowing the fresh air to fill their suite and motioned toward the balcony. They stepped through the glass and Claire exclaimed, “Tony, everything is so open and bright.”
Reaching for her hands, he stared down into her emerald eyes. Suddenly, the cooling autumn air no longer registered—Claire knew she could stand in his gaze forever. Before the sadness behind the dark registered, his baritone voice replied, “This is your glass house—one that won’t shatter. I don’t want you to ever feel trapped again. I want you to be able to see the sky and sun—or moon and stars—whenever you desire.”
She melted against his chest. “Thank you, I love it! But how—how did you do this? You were in prison.”
“I had a lot of help.”
Their balcony contained furniture perfect for enjoying the woods behind their home. Standing at the rail, Claire peered below and saw many other amenities—a pool, a basketball court, a play set—bigger than those in most local parks—and the gardens. Sitting on a gliding seat, looking over the tree tops, Claire sighed and laid her head against her husband’s shoulder.
Tony spoke, “Of course, you still have your island—if you’d prefer you can move back there. Although this view is beautiful, it’s difficult to compete with the view from your lanai. I just thought it might be easier on Nichol if you lived closer to John and Emily for a while.”
She looked up. “Why do you keep saying you? You mean we.”
Tony reached into his breast pocket, removed an envelope, and extended it toward her. “You and Nichol, Claire—this house—the entire estate—it’s yours.”
Her world stopped spinning. There weren’t enough masks ever created to hide her emotions. Whatever was in the envelope he offered—she didn’t want. Never in the history of time had any documentation he handed her been good. Claire stood and backed away from his hand. “I don’t know what’s in that envelope, but whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
Soothingly, he said, “It’s for you.”
“I don’t care. I said no.”
“You just said you didn’t know what it was. How can you say no?”
Her volume decreased. Fighting the sobs, she whispered, “Tell me—tell me why you’re saying you instead of we?” When he hesitated, she straightened her shoulders and spoke louder, “Tell me!”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. I deserve a straight answer.”
“If you’ll sit down, I’ll explain.”
Claire eyed him suspiciously and slowly retook the seat beside him. She steadied her voice, closed her eyes momentarily, and said, “I’m sitting—talk.”
He looked out at the trees and exhaled. “I tried to contact you. I wanted to be with you, to be there for you. The scene at the estate was crazy. When you pulled the trigger, the police were already here and they immediately arrested both of us. Apparently, the Iowa City Police weren’t aware of our cooperation with the FBI. Catherine had called them to say I was there, and that she was afraid. The police assumed that you and I were trying to kill Catherine.
“Eventually, Brent got me out on bail. Of course, that was after he returned from Chicago and learned he was supposed to be dead. He was the only legal counsel who knew about our cooperation with the FBI. By the time I was out—Emily had obtained a restraining order against me. You weren’t talking to anyone, and she assumed you were trying to kill me—to get away from me. Brent, Tom, my whole damn legal staff tried to lift her order. Meredith’s book was out—the whole world knew what I’d done to you.”
Claire heard the emotion in his voice.
Tony continued, “There were two theories as to your condition. One was traumatic brain injury—Emily argued I was the cause. Even though I was out on bail, the courts wouldn’t let me get near you or Nichol. The other theory for your condition was a psychotic break brought on by Catherine, Nichol, the fire—”
Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Claire pleaded, “Tony, stop! I know the past. I don’t want to hear it or talk about it. I want to move on. I want what we had in paradise—right here.”
He gripped her shoulders. “Don’t you understand? You can’t keep doing that.”
“What?”
“You can’t continually push every bad memory away to deal with later.”
“Why? I can, and besides, we dealt with our demons in paradise. I remember it all. You’re the one who always said—the past is the past—think about the present or the future.”
“I was wrong. You need to face it, and so do I. In all those discussions on the island, we never spoke about the things in Meredith’s book.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Because we were both there. During our discussions in paradise, you told me things I had no way of knowing—I know what happened between us. I also know it was a long time ago and it’s over. I don’t want to rehash it. I want the future.”
“That’s what I want—for you too. I want you to have a future—free from all of our past. That’s why I built you a new, memory-free house and Claire—that’s why Brent is ready to file for our divorce.”
Claire couldn’t think—or speak—or move. She stared blankly as even her tears suspended their decent.
Finally, Tony asked, “Did you hear me? I won’t be the one to hurt you anymore, nor will Emily. You deserve fresh air and freedom. No one will ever be able to control you. Besides the money you still have invested overseas, I’m giving you the estate, a handsome settlement, and child support. With your wealth you can do anything you’ve ever dreamt of doing. You’ll be in control of your and Nichol’s future—I won’t fight you on anything.” He looked down and implored sheepishly, “I do hope you’ll allow me to see our daughter, but I understand if you don’t.” Regaining his authoritative tone, he added, “I think we’ve thought of everything regarding this house, but if there’s something else you want or need—it’s yours. You can have anything you want.”
Her voice cracked. “You don’t want m—me?”
Reaching out, Tony lifted her hand and kissed the top. “Don’t ever think that. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“The reason the judge wouldn’t lift the restraining order and allow me to see you, was because when the judge asked me if the accounts in Meredith’s book were correct, I told him yes. I admitted to everything. He ruled that I was a danger to you and Nichol.”
“That’s ridiculous. You never would have—nor will you ever—hurt Nichol. Obviously we’re together now, so all that legal drama’s over.” Her voice cracked as she asked, “Why are you throwing me away—now?”
Tony stood and faced the trees—his knuckles blanched as he clenched the railing. “I’m not throwing you away! I’m setting you free.”
Claire lowered her face to her chest. “It’s because people think I’m crazy—you don’t want a crazy wife.” Sobs resonated from her chest, separating each statement. “I know I broke your rules.” “I know appearances are important.” “I’m sorry, I disappointed you.”
Though her eyes were closed, she felt his gentle touch as he lifted her chin. When she opened her eyes, Tony was kneeling before her and the darkness memorized her. She couldn’t look away. Conversely, there was no darkness or disapproval in his voice. Instead, she heard remorse. “No, Claire. I’m the one who’s disappointed you—over and over.” He wiped her tears gently with his thumb. “While I was in prison, I learned you were finally getting better. I tried—but Emily still wouldn’t allow me to contact you. She wouldn’t allow hardly anyone to contact you. Courtney told me she only saw you through Meredith. She also said Emily wouldn’t even let you see Nichol”—The intensity of his eyes grew with each word—“I hated your sister! I was powerless to help you, and she was keeping you prisoner. I couldn’t even talk to you—hell, I heard that even your time outside was monitored.”
He stood once again and paced the length of the balcony. Claire didn’t know what to say. Everything he said was true, but she knew that Emily did what she did with good intentions—Emily was afraid if Claire relapsed, it would be devastating to Nichol.
Once he’d calmed, Tony continued, “In order to receive my early release, I agreed to counseling. I didn't want to do it, but if it got me out of there early, I figured what the hell.” He sat back down. “I spoke to this shrink three times a week. It started with me answering his questions. Over time, it became easier to talk. When I told him how upset I was with Emily and what she was doing to you, he asked me why I was upset? I said it was because of what’s she was doing. He told me to think about it more and figure out why I was so upset. I had two days before I saw him again. Throughout those days, I couldn’t stop thinking about his question. It seemed obvious, until I realized...”
Claire’s mind tried to process, “What? What did you realize?”
“I was so angry with Emily, because she was doing the same thing to you that I’d done. I didn’t just hate Emily—I hated me!” He knelt before her and bowed his forehead to her knees. “I will not allow anyone to hurt you again—that includes me.”
Claire’s fingers wove through his hair. “Tony, you were at Everwood—you heard me. I forgave Emily, and many years ago—I forgave you, too. I don’t want to be free from you. I lived almost two years believing I’d killed you. I thought that was why no one mentioned your name. During that time, I fantasized about you and cried for you. Now you’re here. I can touch you! I want my family back together.”
When he didn’t respond, she babbled on, “Besides, I’m still an outpatient. If you divorce me, they’ll never allow me to have custody of Nichol. If you do this, you’re not freeing me, you’re abandoning me.” The tears were freely flowing once again.
He stood and squared his shoulders. “You’re right.” His dry and businesslike tone fortified his stance. Nothing she said or could say would change his mind—he’d made his decision. “I don’t want you to lose Nichol. We’ll start with a separation. I rented an apartment near the office. I’ll live there. You and Nichol can have the estate and all the staff you need. With a nanny to help, there shouldn’t be any legal concerns.”
For an eternity, she sat silently and stared at the man she’d dreamt about. Although their eyes met, there was no connection. No longer did his swirl with emotion. There was no rage or joy—even the sadness had subsided. She couldn’t read his thoughts. It was as if he were staring at a document—a car—or anything else inconsequential.
The memory of seeing him the first night of her captivity rushed back. She remembered him standing near the fireplace in her suite. His dark glistening eyes frightened and paralyzed her. Suddenly, she longed for that emotion—it was better than nothing and nothing was exactly what she saw.
Claire stood and straightened her shoulders. She knew from experience this conversation was over. She’d already begged—she wouldn’t do it again. Without verbally replying to his last comment, Claire nodded and walked past him, back into the bedroom. In the attached bathroom, she found tissues and wiped her eyes. Her crying was done. Looking at her reflection, she saw the plain ugly Everwood clothes, very little make-up, and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Swallowing the emotions she refused to show, she walked back into the bedroom. Tony was still on the balcony as the autumn sky beyond him darkened. The earlier light had faded. She momentarily wondered if it would ever return.
His current stance reminded her of his rejection of her at the Iowa City jail. She recalled begging him to take her home—pleading for him to make her world right. She couldn’t bear it again. If he didn’t want her, then she’d move on. Claire was done begging—if someone were to truly make her world right—it would be her.
When she said his name, he turned around. Keeping her voice neutral, she said, “I can’t see Nichol looking like this. I’m going to take a shower and clean up. I presume my closets are full, like Nichol’s?”
“They are.”
“Where’s the staff? I’d like something to eat.”
“I gave them the night off. I’ll go into town and get something. By the time I get back, you should be ready.”
Claire nodded. Without another word, she turned and walked away from her future ex-husband.
