Claire tilted her head and reached for his hand. “So you’d cut me off?”
His devilish grin returned as the fire from across the room reflected in his sultry gaze. “I’ve made our fortune with negotiations. I hope you don’t think I’m that easy to manipulate.”
Leaning back, Claire untied her robe and allowed it to fall from her shoulders. Scooting back on the bed, she looked up at him through her lashes and pushed out her lower lip. “That’s all right. If you don’t want to practice…”
Within seconds, Tony was crawling toward her, covering her body with his. “I didn’t say that. By all means, Mrs. Rawlings, let’s work on our technique.”
Part of the healing process is sharing with other people who care.
—Jerry Cantrell
TONY SAT ACROSS the desk from Dr. Brown with Claire’s hand in his. It wasn’t the first time they’d been in her office together; however, it was the first time they’d jointly had such a personal conversation with the good doctor. Fortunately or unfortunately, Tony had become quite adept at speaking with therapists and doctors. He knew how each one of his words as well as the inflection of his voice was dissected and scrutinized. Maybe scrutinized held too negative of a connotation; perhaps analyzed was a better description.
Nevertheless, as they sat across from the attractive blonde psychiatrist, Tony couldn’t help but do the same. He analyzed each word she said as well as her nonverbal responses. This ability didn’t begin with his induction into the world of psychoanalysis: it was what he’d done his entire life, how he’d made Rawlings Industries into an international conglomerate. Even with technology and the modernization of video and web conferences, Anthony Rawlings would watch and listen to his associates as well as his business adversaries. Many times it wasn’t what was said that was vital to negotiations, it was what wasn’t said.
“I understand your concern, Anthony. Over the past few months we’ve completely eliminated the anti-psychotic medications, and it appears to be without incident. As you’re aware, Claire’s still on a less potent anti-anxiety medication… two medications,” Dr. Brown corrected as she glanced at the computer screen only she was privy to see.
“Without incident?” Tony asked. “What were you expecting?”
“We don’t know what to expect. Each patient is unique.” Turning her gaze to Claire, she asked, “Claire, we discussed this the other day, but please tell me if anything has changed. Are you noticing any side effects from the medication changes?”
“I’m noticing good side effects. I’m beginning to feel more like myself. I don’t feel as stuck in the middle.”
“What about your sleeping problems?” Tony asked. “Do you think that can be attributed to the medication changes?”
Dr. Brown looked from Tony to Claire. “What sleeping problems? You didn’t mention anything about that.”
Claire’s green eyes, boring holes through her husband, returned to Dr. Brown. “I’m not having sleeping problems. I wake up sometimes. That’s all.”
Tony knew Claire didn’t approve of his sharing; however, this was her health they were discussing and he wouldn’t compromise, not even for her. Steeling his shoulders, he continued, “And she has trouble going back to sleep. Sometimes at night she talks in her sleep. I can’t understand it, but whatever it is seems to be upsetting her.”
The doctor leaned forward. “Claire, this can’t work if you’re not honest with me. Are you having nightmares?”
Claire sat taller. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve had a few dreams I remember, but most of the time I don’t. I wake knowing that there was something going on, but I can’t remember particulars.”
“Whatever it is, it’s enough to have her awake for hours.”
“Tony! Stop,” Claire demanded. “I’m fine. Everyone dreams.”
Pressing his lips together he looked back across the desk to Dr. Brown.
“Yes, Claire,” the doctor began. “Everyone dreams. And to be totally forthright, dreaming is a positive outlet, if you will. Differentiating a dream from reality is the crucial distinction. I don’t like that the dreams agitate you. That makes me leery to make any further adjustments on your remaining medications.” Before Claire could refute her statement, Dr. Brown went on, “You need to be honest with yourself.”
Claire blinked her eyes. “I am being honest. I don’t know exactly what the dreams are about. I do know they aren’t the exact same. But I’ll reiterate: I’m ready to get off all the medicine. I think I’ll sleep better without it.”
“You never had nightmares before you were on these meds, ever?” the doctor asked.
Tony looked to his right. He knew she did. He remembered the nightmares she had after the Patrick Chester incident, the long nights sitting outside on the patio, looking up at the stars and wishing he could take it all away. He remembered the helplessness as she’d succumb to her tears and melt against his chest. It took months before those fears finally came to rest. His overwhelming desire to help her ease out of this conversation squelched his reasoning to continue it.
“Doctor, can’t some of this be normal?” Tony hated using that word. He squeezed Claire’s hand, hopeful that she wouldn’t assume he was insinuating anything about her was abnormal.
“It is. Dreams are our subconscious way of dealing with stress.”
“Isn’t it a good thing that Claire’s dealing with it?”
Dr. Brown looked back to Claire. “Do you know what the stressor is? Do you know the trigger?”
Claire looked at Tony. He saw the answer in her eyes. The FBI didn’t want them mentioning the mailings, yet if he truly thought about it, there seemed to be a correlation. The nightmares would come for a day or two following a new Rawls-Nichols mailing.
“The two of you must be straightforward. Is there a problem that I’m unaware exists? Could this be about another child?”
They both turned back to Dr. Brown. “No,” Claire answered matter-of-factly. “We’ve discussed it. As long as you and my other doctors are on board, we’re both happy about the prospect of another baby.”
Dr. Brown turned her gaze to Tony.
“I’ve made no secret out of the fact that I’m concerned about my wife; however, the more she and I discuss it, the more I realize I’d love to have another child.” He smirked to himself. Damn, that wasn’t a sentence he could’ve predicted uttering five years ago. “But,” he added, “Claire’s health is the most important. If she can’t handle it, then it won’t happen. Or…” He looked to Claire. “…we could adopt.”
“We could?” Her emerald eyes glistened toward his. It wasn’t a subject they’d ever broached. “You’re truly on board with this. You want another child that much?”
Seeing the sparkle behind her gaze told him that this was what she wanted. “I am and I do.”
Dr. Brown cleared her throat. “I’m glad to hear you’ve made this decision together. It’s not my job to crush my patient’s dreams, but I think you should consider your pasts, both of you. Adoption, legal adoption, requires extensive background screenings. I’m not saying that you wouldn’t pass. I’m saying that even with the financial means, there’s no guarantee.”
Claire didn’t seem to be hearing Dr. Brown; instead, her eyes were still fixed on Tony’s. Finally, she turned to the woman across the desk. “I know what my nightmares were about. I know what triggers them. It isn’t anything between Tony and I, not really. We’re just not at liberty to discuss it fully.”
Before anyone could speak, Claire added, “But in all honesty, I don’t think that was the only stimulus. I’ve been worried that Tony didn’t want another child as much as I did. I realize I’m asking a lot.” She continued on as if he weren’t sitting right next to her, their knees and hands touching. “Tony and I have discussed many different issues that may arise with another child. One obvious issue…” She turned and grinned. “…is age. Sorry.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not just him. I’m no spring chicken either. I’m thir
ty-three, but Tony is fifty-two. I’ve been afraid that if this medication doesn’t get out of my system soon, it will be too late.”
Claire looked at Dr. Brown as a renegade tear made its way down her cheek. “I’m not saying it’s caused me nightmares, but I wake up thinking about it and have difficulty falling back to sleep. I’ve felt pressured that things must move fast or they never will.”
“And now?” Dr. Brown asked.
“Now, I know it doesn’t matter. He is behind me on this.”
“Anthony?”
“Yes, Dr. Brown, I’m supportive of another child. Whether it’s our biological child or we’re fortunate enough to adopt, I want Claire to be happy and,” he added with emphasis, “I would like another child. I never imagined being a father, never even entertained the idea. Claire’s changed my life in ways I’ll never be able to articulate. Being a husband and a father has brought me more joy than any business deal or personal quest. Nichol is our world. It seems as though Claire’s done well with the medication changes thus far. Whatever you and her other doctors recommend, we’ll do.”
“Claire, we’ve determined that some of your dreams make you agitated. Does anything else upset you?”
Claire exhaled. “Yes. Things upset me and things excite me. None of it becomes obsessive or overbearing. It’s life. Life has ups and downs. I like them. I like being happy and sad. I like when a book makes me cry or Nichol makes me laugh. I like when my husband’s gaze and gentle kiss give me goose bumps with anticipation. Those are all coming back to me and I want it one hundred percent.”
Dr. Brown nodded. “I’ll authorize it.” Her gaze went to Claire. “Thank you for your answer. For all of this to work, I need your continued honesty. You also need to see your gynecologist before ending your birth control. This is the beginning of April. It takes a month, perhaps two, to have all of the anxiety medications out of your system. I recommend alternative forms of birth control in the meantime.”
Tony wondered when in his life it had become commonplace for him to have so many people who had a vote in his personal dealings. At one time, he’d never have sat and listened as someone else told him what he was to do and not do. And then, as quickly as that thought occurred, Claire’s eyes met his. In her gaze he heard her unspoken soliloquy. It told him everything he needed to hear. His wife was happy, excited, and encouraged.
Though Tony wished he could’ve been with her in her time of need, here in this very facility, he was relieved he hadn’t been. Oh, he would have spent every day with her in hopes of bringing her back to reality sooner; however, the reports Roach had shown him broke his heart. He couldn’t imagine seeing those emerald eyes lifeless or without spark. From the first time he’d seen Claire, up close and in person, he was drawn to the life in her beautiful eyes.
Now, the next step was guaranteeing the best doctor in the fuck’n world to assure that if Claire did become pregnant, her delivery would be nothing like what they’d endured in paradise. Obviously they were both entering into this prospect of parenthood with more forethought than they did with Nichol.
LATER THAT NIGHT, Claire slipped between the soft sheets of their large bed, unable to keep the smile from her face. All she could think about was the fact that Tony really and truly said he’d wanted another child. He didn’t say it just in front of her, but in front of Dr. Brown. Claire was more excited than she’d been about anything in a long time. Oh, each day they spent with Nichol was a gift, and their family had become content and stable over the last six months, but excitement and building anticipation had not been part of Claire’s day-to-day repertoire for a very long time.
Its presence was like a tiny bud of hope taking root in her being. It was as if she could feel it within her, giving her a promise of more. Its tentacles wrapped around her heart, embraced, and warmed her soul in a way she’d forgotten. The whole world seemed brighter. It wasn’t only spring in Iowa, but also in her. The world was being reborn. Small specks of green had formed on the trees outside of her windows. Hues of red sprinkled the landscape as redbud trees came back from their winter dormancy. Even the grass was growing and filled their many yards with color.
For the first time in many springs, Claire was part of it. She was there with Nichol’s hand in hers as they walked the paths through the gardens and talked about the flowers peeking up through the earth and ones that together they’d plant. She was with Tony on their balcony or patio in the evenings as the scent of cut grass and sound of maturing insects filled their senses. Most importantly, she was alive, aware, and budding with excitement about their future.
The bed shifted, and Claire turned toward her handsome husband.
“My dear.” He kissed her cheek. “Pray tell, what has that beautiful smile on those lips and faraway look in your magnificent eyes?”
His mischievous grin, the scent of his cologne, and his intuitive question all brought Claire back to the present. Her body responded, the way she’d been wanting. Scooting closer, she leaned into his embrace, both of them sitting against the massive headboard with his arm over her shoulder. She loved the way she fit perfectly against him. Suddenly she wished he’d taken off his t-shirt before joining her. Her fingers longed to feel the softness of his chest hair; instead, she settled for nuzzling closer to his warmth.
“I’m happy.” Her simplistic answer held so many truths. Some couples may need more: an expansion upon the statement, perhaps clarification: Why was she happy? Did one thing happen to make her happy? Had she been unhappy?
Neither Tony nor Claire needed that confirmation. It was the blessing and the curse of a history and an openness that surpassed all obstacles. His embrace tightened as their lips engaged. With each touch, the desire within her grew. Her nightgown-covered skin sought the sensation of his warmth. Her nipples hardened as her breasts ached for his touch. Words weren’t needed as they melted into one another and her petite hands worked their way under his shirt, finding the soft hair covering his broad chest.
Tony slowly reached for the hem of her nightgown, and with his devilish grin, whispered, “Well, perhaps we should do some of that practicing you mentioned, before we have to heed the doctor’s alternative recommendations.”
Claire nodded, wanting their bodies to become one without barriers. “I like practicing,” she murmured as she moved closer to where his intentions were becoming clearer.
“Momma,” Nichol said sleepily, as the door to their suite opened.
Both Tony and Claire turned to see their daughter rubbing her eyes and moving toward them.
Stifling their smiles, Claire adjusted her nightgown as Tony groaned and straightened his shirt.
“What is it, honey?” Claire asked as Nichol climbed up onto their bed. Before their daughter answered, she crawled between them and slid under the covers. Once settled, Claire put her arm around her, and Nichol snuggled closer.
“I missed-ed you. I woke up and got scared.”
Letting out a deep sigh, Tony wrapped the two of them in his embrace. “Scared? Princess, what were you scared about?”
Nichol shrugged.
“You know that with your momma, me, Shannon, Mr. Phil, Mr. Eric, and Miss Taylor, you’re the safest little princess in the whole world, don’t you?”
Nichol nodded. “You’re not there.”
“Where, honey? Where aren’t we?”
“In my room. I’m all by myself. I heard somefing…” Her brown eyes widened. “…under my bed.” She leaned into Tony’s chest. “I think I should sleeps wif you.”
Claire grinned above Nichol’s head, her gaze meeting Tony’s. “Honey,” Claire began, “we’ve talked about this. You have your own bed. This is Momma and Daddy’s bed.”
“I don’t like my bed. I like yours.”
“We like ours too, princess. But it isn’t big enough for all of us.”
Nichol’s dark hair swung over her eyes as her head moved dramatically from side to side. “It is. See, I fits right here.”
Though
Claire wanted Nichol to feel safe, their child psychologist had been very clear on her opinion of children sleeping in their parents’ bed. Giving in, even one time, she’d warned, and a pattern would be set. “How about Daddy and I take you back to your room. Daddy will check under your bed and make sure there isn’t anything there making noise. Then we can snuggle with you and read one more story? Will that make you feel better?”
Nichol shrugged again. “Why can’t I stay here? I promise I won’t wiggle.”
Tony laughed as he playfully tickled their daughter. Her pouting lips sprang into a smile as her legs and arms began to flail. “You won’t wiggle? You won’t wiggle?” he asked jokingly. “You’re doing a lot of wiggling right now.”
“Stop, Daddy!” Nichol managed through her roars of laughter.
“Tony, she’s never going to go back to sleep—”
His grin and wink came as his hands stopped tickling and Nichol’s pleas turned to a sigh. “Miss Rawlings,” Tony said as he eased back the covers, stood, and offered Nichol his hand. “It seems as though you have in fact wiggled. That means it’s time for your momma and me to escort you back to your own room.”
Though she worked hard to pout, her big dark eyes sparkled with adoration. “You’ll look under my bed?”
“Yes, I promise.”
With that, Nichol stood on the bed and flung herself into Tony’s arms. “You have to read me one more story too.”
“I do? I thought that was Momma’s job.”
“Nope,” Nichol replied as Claire donned her robe and the three of them made their way out the door. Stepping into the corridor, she continued, “Momma’s gonna listen, just like me.”
Low lights led the way from the master bedroom suite to Nichol’s room, only one door down and across the hall. Turning on the light on her bedside stand, Tony handed Nichol to Claire before bending down and searching beneath the skirt of the canopy bed. Nichol buried her head in the crook of Claire’s neck as Tony announced, “Oh my.”
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