Convicted (Consequences)

by Romig, Aleatha

  Their past was significant, yet—insignificant. Years ago, Tony had told Claire not to talk about the past. He’d said they had a future and they needed to look ahead; nonetheless, at her prompting, the first month of their new marriage had been spent primarily in the past. She hadn’t asked to know the truth—she’d demanded it.

  When Claire was young, her grandmother told her to be careful what she wished for. Without a doubt, Tony and her grandmother were correct. There were times she wished for ignorance, times she wanted not to know all he’d told her; however, she did know—and in knowing—she wanted to put it all behind them. Claire wanted to look ahead toward a future with the man making love to her, seducing her, and fulfilling her every desire. She knew from experience that life with him could be difficult—but without him—the entire planet would spin out of control, lost forever in the darkest depths of the universe.

  Claire closed her eyes and concentrated on his talented fingers as they caressed her skin. Beginning at the nape of her neck, they trailed lightly down her body. Uncontrollably, Claire heard her own voice, truly nothing more than a ragged breath surrounded by a moan as her back arched, pushing her chest toward his touch—wanting—needing more.

  He taunted her sensitive breasts, tweaking and suckling. Though she wanted the jubilation to last, it took so little to propel Claire to the edge of ecstasy. Sometimes something as simple as a deliberate puff of air on a taut, wet nipple instantaneously liquefied her insides and removed reasoning from her thoughts. Teasing her to the point of begging, yet satisfying her every desire was her husband’s specialty. Despite the way she’d changed—the way her body had changed—she felt wanted and sexy. He skillfully caressed and suckled as he moved south over her enlarged midsection—her baby—his baby—their baby. Its presence only intensified their union.

  As their little one grew, creativity became a necessity. What was it they said? Necessity was the mother of invention. When they were both satisfied, Claire nestled her cheek against Tony’s chest, and he broke their silence. Instead of listening to his words, she enjoyed the reverberation of his raspy voice while mindlessly contemplating his next invention.

  A few moments later, Tony tilted Claire’s face toward him, lifting her chin with one finger and repeated, “I believe I said, good morning, Mrs. Rawlings.”

  “Mm mm,” she cooed. “It sure is, Mr. Rawlings.”

  Tony scooted up to the headboard with his arm around Claire’s bare shoulder. His voice brimmed with excitement. “I found a nearby island. It isn’t large, and it’s uninhabited. I’ve been there a few times. Before I found you at the pool, I asked Madeline to pack us a lunch so that I could take you there.”

  Claire’s satisfied smile faded, and her body stiffened. “I don’t know.”

  “You need to get off this island for more than doctor’s appointments.”

  “Why?” she asked. “I can order anything I want. Francis will pick it up and bring it here.” She placed her nose near his neck and inhaled. “I got your cologne.” Claire smiled as her lips touched the spot below his ear, and his famous growl filled her ears. “It’s not like we can go visit friends. There’s no reason to leave.”

  Stopping her kisses, he said, “I have one.”

  “Oh, you do? And what would that be?”

  “I said so,” he answered smugly.

  Claire eased herself from bed and shook her head from side to side. “Sorry, sweetheart, that one doesn’t work anymore.” With the sheet wrapped around her curvaceous body, she stepped toward the bathroom and asked, “Would you like to join me for a cool shower?”

  Perhaps it was because she had the sheet or maybe because it wasn’t that great of a distance, but as he swiftly got out of their bed and gracefully moved toward her; Claire couldn’t look away from his gorgeous body. Totally nude, he reached her in only a few steps. When Claire remembered to focus on his face, she found an expression she didn’t expect.

  Before it could register, he gripped her shoulders and stared down into her eyes. In his voice, Claire heard the determination and saw the darkness that she felt in his grasp. “I realize our options are limited; however, I won’t allow you to be isolated or imprisoned—again—by anyone. For the record, that includes you.”

  “Tony, that’s ridiculous. I’m not imprisoning myself. I’m comfortable and happy. There’s a difference.”

  He exhaled, lifted her chin, and spoke slowly and deliberately. “I’d love to join you for that shower. I’d love to help you reapply your sunscreen, and”—his words were controlled, not loud or harsh—or open for debate—“I know you wouldn’t want to disappoint Madeline...or me; therefore, after the shower, you and I are going to the small island that I found, and we’re having lunch.”

  His thumb and finger continued to hold her chin captive. The forced tilt of her head wasn’t necessary; Claire wouldn’t look away even if she could. She knew his tone and saw his restraint. She also knew he was doing what he did—trying to control a world that was uncontrollable.

  While she contemplated her response, he spoke. “Do you want to discuss this more?”

  After a prolonged silence, her green eyes began to shimmer. She didn’t speak, yet by the softening of his gaze, she knew he was listening. Finally, she said, “Fine, I won’t discuss it, but if we’re going out without Francis, I want to drive the boat.”

  Tony released her chin and their room filled with his laughter. Brushing his lips over hers, he replied, “Oh, my dear, over my dead body!”

  Claire didn’t know why she’d been so hesitant. The water was beautiful, glistening and sparkling in all directions. Every trip she’d taken had been to town. Tony’s island was the opposite direction with all new sights. As they passed island after island, Claire wondered how anyone could possibly know which direction they were traveling or where they were.

  Tony explained the instruments he’d only recently learned to read. They had a compass, a depth finder, and a virtual map with a grid and coordinates. They also had their cell phones and two-way radios to access help if necessary. When the islands came close together and the straight in between narrowed, Tony showed Claire how the depth finder indicated the boat’s proper position. Running into underwater rocks could be as detrimental as hitting one of the above water cliffs.

  While they were still a ways away, Tony pointed toward the West. Claire followed his hand. The view took her breath away. The island he’d discovered was beautiful, the perfect south pacific deserted isle away from the numerous islands they’d just passed. It didn’t take a depth finder to tell them that the water became shallower closer to their destination. The sea lightened with rings of turquoise as it surrounded the white sandy beach. Beyond the shore were palm trees and other lush plants. As they neared the island, colorful flowers dotted the terrain. When Tony finally anchored the boat off the shore, Claire was equally as excited to see this new land.

  Hand in hand, they walked on the soft sand as Tony showed Claire all he’d already discovered. She loved the sound of his voice. Never could she have imagined Anthony Rawlings so excited about something like a hidden freshwater waterfall. Under the canopy of vegetation, they ate the meal Madeline prepared and listened to the soft breeze through the palm trees. Helping Claire down to the cool shaded sand, Tony insisted she rest.

  With her head and back against his chest, she drifted between her reality and a dream world. It was during one of those states where Claire realized they were the same. For a short time, they had the dream. As she lingered between wake and sleep, the sweet aroma of flowers filled her senses and she tentatively opened her eyes. Orange, yellow, and red filled her vision. The most colorful bouquet of flowers she’d ever seen was right in front of her.

  “Oh, Tony! They’re beautiful!”

  The lush shades of green and bright colored flowers didn’t right Claire’s world as much as the chocolate brown eyes smiling down at her.

  “Not as beautiful as you.”

  “I’m glad you ta
lked me into coming here. It’s amazing.”

  He helped her to her feet and they walked toward the shore. The tide had come in making the beach narrower and the boat farther away.

  “How long did I sleep?”

  Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve had so much trouble sleeping at night lately; I wanted to let you rest as long as you could.”

  “If we wait then the tide will go back out.”

  “And the sun will set. I don’t want to try to get us back in the dark.”

  Claire smirked. “You could let me drive. I’ve had a nap.”

  “My dear, you could sleep for hours, and I’m not giving up the helm.”

  “So, are we swimming for it?”

  Claire saw the wheels turning in Tony’s head. He was working out the possible scenarios in his mind. To her, it was simple—they were both good swimmers.

  When Claire began to remove her sundress and expose her bathing suit, Tony reached for her hand, stopping her movement. “No, I’ll swim for the boat, and bring it back closer.”

  If she weren’t pregnant, Claire would argue; however, she obviously was. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she lifted herself on her toes and kissed his lips. “Be careful.”

  Tony promised, as he shed his shirt, kissed her one last time, and waded into the sea. Claire watched nervously as he dove under the crystal water. It was then Madeline’s words came back to her, reassuring her—darkness verses light. The sun was still bright. Scanning the panoramic scene, Claire was able to see under surface of the clear calm water. “It’s safe,” she said aloud, to no one in particular, as the familiar pounding in her temples and new tightening in her midsection screamed out their warning.

  Lowering herself to the sand, Claire took deep breaths and searched the horizon for her husband. With each passing minute, his figure became smaller and smaller. It was then she realized, not only was the tide coming in, but the boat was drifting out. Could the rising tide have lifted the anchor?

  The radios and their phones were on the boat. She got back to her feet. The boat was now on the edge of the turquoise circle. Beyond that ring, the waters deepened. Pacing a track in the sand, Claire spoke reassuringly to their child, “It’ll be all right. Your father’s a good swimmer. He can do this. He can save us.”

  Were her words meant to comfort the little life within her or to comfort her? Claire didn’t know. She wanted to scream his name, call him back, have him beside her, but she knew he’d never hear her. She could yell until she was hoarse, but no one could hear her.

  The sun sank lower, and Claire refused to move. Sometimes she’d imagine she saw the boat coming toward her, and then she’d blink and it would be gone. Her mind went all directions: Would—could she survive? Would anyone find her? Was Tony still swimming? How long had it been?

  We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world, beyond the horizon.

  —Franklin D. Roosevelt

  Sophia waited inside the downtown Iowa City Restaurant, shivering inside her thick wool coat. Growing up on the East Coast, she wasn’t unaccustomed to cold; however, there was something excessively bitter about the Iowa December wind. As she watched the snowflakes swirl through the air beyond the windows, she buried her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat. The gray skies weren’t producing enough snow to cover the drab ground, just enough to exacerbate her spirits. Experience told her that December was only the beginning of the miserable cold. Iowa would get worse before it got better. I wish we were back in California. Even Sophia was surprised by the thought. She never would’ve imagined considering the West Coast home.

  Straightening her neck, Sophia encouraged herself, if I can have those thoughts about Santa Clara, maybe one day I’ll be able to consider this home. It was more wishful thinking, but she was trying. After all, things were going very well for Derek.

  He loved his new job, even with the challenges Rawlings Industries faced. Each evening, when he’d return home to their new house, Sophia saw pride in her husband’s eyes. She knew he was a hard worker, yet to be singled out by Anthony Rawlings—even under such strange circumstances—Derek considered it his noble duty to help this company stay afloat.

  Timothy Benson took a personal interest in Derek. Sophia thought it was funny how Tim and Derek were so close in age, while many of the others she’d met at the Rawlings corporate headquarters were older, probably closer to Mr. Rawlings’ age. Tim was forming his personal team of consultants, men and women with fresh ideas ready to take on the challenges of a struggling fortune 500, multibillion dollar conglomerate. He wanted people willing to face cameras, the press, and boards of directors—people who when confronted, would stand firm in the belief that Rawlings Industries will survive. It was likely that very soon, the SEC, Securities Exchange Commission, would be investigating Rawlings Industries. Many times, personal wrongdoings by high ranking business people translated to professional wrongdoing. Tim was determined that Rawlings Industries would make it through such an investigation. In the process, he declared that not only would every division be transparent, but without blemish. The founder and CEO may be missing, and there may be continued allegations regarding issues in his personal life; however, the company Anthony Rawlings started from nothing—was steadfast.

  Claire Nichols’ sister and brother-in-law continued to cause Rawlings Industries headaches. An entire division of the Rawlings’ legal team, whom Derek explained should be concentrating on company matters, was fully devoted to Anthony Rawlings’ personal legal issues. To date, they’d managed to stall production of Claire Nichols’ memoirs, but Derek said they probably couldn’t be delayed much longer. Apparently, it was a publication tactic from the Rawlings’ team. Traditionally, books released near the holidays don’t fare well in sales. Knowing they’d eventually lose the war, the legal division’s plan was to continue the fight until a time when the release would be theoretically less successful.

  In this instance, Sophia questioned their tactics. As an artist, she knew publicity was publicity. The additional exposure the memoirs received from the suits and counter suits would likely propel the book My Life As It Didn’t Appear to number one in no time.

  Thankfully, Iowa wasn’t as backwards as Sophia had feared. The Quad Cities and the universities all helped to make it more than a large corn field thousands of miles away from the nearest coast. Sophia had met many of the people in Derek’s new circles. Their wives were nice. Sophia especially liked Sue, Tim’s wife; however, with one small child and one on the way, their priorities were considerably different. Sophia and Derek discussed children and the possibility was there. Right now, he needed to concentrate on work. Sophia knew that when she had a child, she wanted to do it for the right reason—being lonely in a new state—in her opinion—wasn’t the right reason.

  Deep down, Sophia knew that before she became a parent, she needed to work through some personal thoughts and feelings regarding her birth parents. Since the phone call back in California, Sophia hadn’t heard from the woman claiming to be her mother—of course, she had told her not to call. Sometimes she’d wonder about the woman. Was she still married to Sophia’s father? Was she ever married to him? If they’re not together, did she know where he was? What about siblings—did she have any?

  The Rossi’s were always open about her adoption; it never bothered Sophia—until they were gone. While they were alive, they did everything to fill her life with all the love and support parents do. Perhaps, now that they’re gone, it was a void Sophia subconsciously wanted filled; however, how did she know if the woman from the phone call was capable of filling that void?

  Sophia wasn’t completely without friends. She’d met an acquaintance—repeatedly—at different venues. Although admittedly, Marie was slightly eccentric, Sophia found her presence comforting. There was something familiar about the woman that Sophia couldn’t pin-point. With time, when at gallery openings or invitation only showings, Sophia found
herself scanning the crowd for the older woman’s face. With so many changes, Marie seemed to be a reoccurring constant; therefore, when Marie invited Sophia to lunch at the Atlas on Iowa Ave, near the University of Iowa’s campus, Sophia gladly accepted. She decided that it was nice to have someone to talk with—someone with similar interests.

  “Can you believe how cold that wind is today?” Marie’s voice pulled Sophia from her internal thoughts.

  Smiling, Sophia shook her head. “No! I know we didn’t live out in California for very long, but I miss the climate out there. I liked the more constant temperature.”

  Marie laughed. “Oh, my dear, this is just the beginning; wait until the snow really starts to fly.”

  After settling at a table, they chatted about nothing in particular. It was nice to forget the wind outside, the move to a new state, and just talk. Marie’s gray eyes gave Sophia a sense of warmth she didn’t understand. As an artist, she often dissected people’s faces without realizing she was doing it. Sophia saw sadness and loss in Marie’s eyes; however, there was also a spark of excitement that tugged at her like a magnet. When Marie would suggest a new exhibit or a museum, the ideas seemed extraordinarily inviting. In some ways, it was like a mirror at a circus. Marie’s eyes reminded her of her own—yet they were different—complicated—multi-tasking. Sophia couldn’t put her finger on it...nevertheless, she was drawn, like a moth to a flame.

  “Did you enjoy your trip out East for Thanksgiving?”

  Sophia nodded. “We did. It was short, but it was nice to see my in-laws.”

  “Since you visited your husband’s parents for Thanksgiving, will you be traveling to your parents for Christmas?”

  Sophia looked down. “No.”

  Reassuringly, Marie’s hand covered Sophia’s. “I’m sorry, did I say something upsetting?”

  “It’s all right. It’s just that...my parents are no longer with us.”