Behind His Eyes - Convicted: The Missing Years

by Aleatha Romig

  “I think our time is about up, and you have a count in less than ten minutes. Between this time and next time, think about this conversation. Oh, and don’t do anything rash regarding your house.”

  Tony nodded. “I’ll think about it, and I’ve already given the orders. The house is going.”

  Tony’s jaw clenched as he waited for Brent to answer his phone. Tony only had a small window of time to use the damn phone, and the next person to use it was standing a mere few feet away. How fuck’n hard was it to get some damn privacy?

  “Yes, I’ll accept the charges.” Tony heard Brent say. “Tony, is everything all right? Why are you calling?”

  “I want Patricia fired. I want you to meet her at the airport, let her get her things at Rawlings, and escort her off the property.”

  The shock in Brent’s voice came through the line. “W-what the hell? Tony, are you thinking straight?”

  “Yes, I’m thinking straight. I can’t work with her anymore and I won’t.”

  “Do you mind filling me in on what happened?”

  “I’m a man. I’m not fuck’n dead, but I don’t care what Roach says, I believe Claire’s going to get better.”

  “Tony, what does that have to do with Patricia?”

  “It’s been happening for a while, but I didn’t really notice, or I guess I wasn’t paying attention. When I did, I thought if I just ignored her, it would stop. They have rules here. Shit, she almost got me in trouble.”

  “I’m still lost,” Brent said.

  “She fuck’n made a move on me. She’s been saying things about wanting to help me, help me not be so lonely, come visit more often. Then she started talking about Nichol and how Claire was too sick to care for her. She said that she’d never do that. She’d never leave her husband and daughter. She said that she could care for Nichol like a mother, better than Claire. I about lost it. I was fuck’n wanting to get her away from me. She knew I was mad, but she started to say how she understands… I’m just lonely and frustrated. Well, she’s got that right, but not for her! Years ago, before Claire and I were married, Patricia accompanied me to a few outings. It was usually last minute. She talked about that and how she wished I’d never met Claire—if I hadn’t, we’d be together. Then, when the buzzer sounded for visiting time to end, she leaned over, gave me a way too good shot at her low-cut blouse, and kissed me!”

  When Tony stopped talking, it wasn’t Brent who replied but Courtney. She gasped and said, “She did what?! Oh no, there’s no way she’s getting anywhere near Nichol. Don’t you worry. Aunt Cort is on this.”

  “You’re on speaker, Tony.”

  “Yes, I kind of figured. I have about thirty seconds left on this call. I’m so mad I can hardly see straight. She’s flying back to Iowa on the Rawlings jet right now. I want you to meet her at the airport.”

  Brent replied, “Not a problem. I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

  “So am I,” Courtney chimed in.

  “I don’t want this to be public knowledge, only a need-to-know basis. Her leaving will be for some other reason. Work it out. Pay her. I don’t give a damn. Just be sure she signs a gag order. Claire’s coming back to me. I’m coming back to her. There’s no way in hell I would ever…”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Brent said, just as the phone went dead.

  “Do you believe she’ll ever see it?” Jim asked about the new house Tony had been describing.

  “Of course she’ll see it. She’ll live in it.”

  “Remember what we talked about. Remember the conclusion you’ve drawn.”

  Tony nodded. “I do. I get it. Claire coming back to me, remarrying me, even though I was different—or tried to be different—will always be a prison to her. I get that. That doesn’t mean I can’t make her life the best it can be.”

  “Anthony, whose decision is it, how Claire’s life should be?”

  “Hers.” He stood and paced to the window, smiling for just a moment at the colorful view. “I know. It’s hers. I’m giving her the estate—all the land and the new house. It’ll all be hers. She can fuck’n sell it if she wants. My name won’t be on it at all. I understand that our relationship can never be what I thought we had. I even get that maybe what we had in the South Pacific wasn’t real: it was more of her conditioned response. I hate it, but I get it. It’d be like me going somewhere else with all the same people from here. The familiarity would make the same feelings come out. Without being here at Yankton, I don’t think I would have gotten it, but I do.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I can hear her pain and fear in that damn book. I won’t do that to her again.”

  “Why do you think you hear that now, but you didn’t six years ago?”

  “We never talked about it. It happened, but we never discussed it. Besides, I didn’t want to hear it then.”

  “Do you want to hear it now?”

  “No. I hate it. I hate that I was the cause of it. I just thought we’d made it past all of that…” Tony’s words trailed away.

  “Can you make it past this—here?” Jim asked, motioning around the room.

  Tony’s shoulders straightened as he stood taller. “I will make it past this.”

  “Will you forget your time here?”

  “I can try.”

  Jim leaned forward. “But it will always be a part of who you are. Just like the kidnapping, imprisonment, and required subjugation will always be a part of Claire. The best that she can hope for is to try to forget and move on. Tell me if you can—well, I guess you can since you have the means—would you ever consider moving to Yankton? I mean, it’s a great community.”

  “Hell no.”

  “Why?” Jim asked.

  “Do you need to ask?”

  “Will it be easier to put this prison camp behind you in Iowa than if you lived here?”

  Red tried to infiltrate Tony’s thoughts. “I get it. I get what you’re saying. But not only am I talking about Claire, I’m talking about Nichol too. I can’t imagine not knowing where they are. I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “You’d do what most people do: you’d get joint custody. You’d live your life and let her live hers. You’re building this grand new home with the help of your friends and yet, you’re not considering that Claire, if she gets better, may never want to live there. She may finally realize that she wants as far away from Iowa as you want away from here.”

  “When she was released from prison, she moved to California,” Tony admitted.

  “How will you feel when she tells you that she wants to move back to California or back to the island or anywhere?”

  “I’ll feel like shit, but it’s her decision.”

  Jim smiled. “Anthony, you’ve made great progress over the past two years. I’m proud of you.”

  As Tony walked back toward his dormitory, he contemplated the session. He didn’t hate Jim the way he had in the beginning. Truthfully, it felt good to talk, better than Tony had ever imagined. That didn’t mean he liked all that they discussed, but in his heart, Tony knew it was true. He’d been in control of Claire’s life for longer than she knew him. That wasn’t a way to live. Not for her, and not for him. She would get better. When she did, she deserved, for the first time in most of her adult life, to live her own life.

  So what? He was building the house for her. If she didn’t want to be there, he was truthful when he said she could sell it.

  He’d made progress. Tony grinned, thinking of Jim’s last comment. That was definitely something Tony planned to say to Nichol as much as possible. How hard was that? I’m proud of you. Four words that felt better than closing the biggest deal. Yes, those would definitely be in his father vocabulary—if Claire allowed him to be with Nichol.

  Tony looked at his cheap commissary watch. He had four minutes until standing count.

  What you are willing to sacrifice is the measurement of how you love.

  —Jada Pinkett Smith

  “She came up to me at the park. A
t the park, John! Are you listening to me?” Emily asked.

  “I’m listening to you. It sounds like you took care of it,” John replied.

  “I told her to stay away, from me, from Nichol, and from Claire.” Emily turned circles in their master bedroom suite. “I was so upset. I mean, after that damn book, she has the audacity to come up to me! To me! And ask to talk to Claire… to do another story?!”

  John reached for his wife’s hand. “Come here.” He tugged her toward the bed. “Sit, calm down. You said your piece, and you walked away. If she bothers you again, you can call the police. She’s a reporter. She falls under the guidelines of the restraining order.”

  Emily sat next to her husband and sighed. “I’m just afraid…”

  “Of what?”

  “I said something. I told her that Claire couldn’t answer her questions. I told her that Claire wasn’t talking to anyone. I shouldn’t have told her that much.”

  John’s chest inflated with a deep breath. “Did you tell her it was off the record?”

  Emily grinned. “I think I may have threatened her life if she repeated anything I said.”

  John nodded as he pulled Emily closer. “Well, I guess that could legally be interpreted as off the record.”

  “That’s how I meant it.” She lay back on the soft comforter and sighed. “This feels so good.”

  “Did you go to Everwood this morning?” John asked.

  Emily nodded. “We went for a little walk. I keep hoping she’ll realize that she’s outside or something. Then I helped Claire with her lunch. I swear she isn’t eating when I’m not there. Not that she eats that well when I’m there.”

  “Did she talk?”

  “Not really.”

  They both turned as their bedroom door opened and a rush of little feet came running in. Within seconds Nichol and Michael were up on their bed, giggling, and hugging John and Emily. Pulling Nichol into his arms, John turned and saw Becca, their nanny, standing in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol. Nichol asked for you. The next thing I know—they’re both running at full speed,” Becca explained.

  John reached around and tickled Michael’s tummy, sending the noise level of the room up a few decibels. “It’s all right, Becca. We needed a little positive energy in here.”

  “I can take them back downstairs—”

  “They’re fine,” Emily replied. “Besides, it’s about time for supper…”

  John sat in his home office, finishing his review of a proposal, when his phone buzzed. It was a text message from Harry.

  “I’D LIKE TO SPEAK TO YOU AND EMILY, IN PERSON. I CAN BE IN IOWA TOMORROW OR THE NEXT DAY. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF WE CAN SCHEDULE SOMETHING”.

  John sighed. He’d meant to contact Harry since the news about Amber broke, but he didn’t know what to say. Truthfully, he’d had enough fires of his own, so he wasn’t anxious to step into another. John replied to the text:

  “WE’LL WORK SOMETHING OUT. LET US KNOW WHEN YOU’RE IN TOWN.”

  “GREAT, TOMORROW NIGHT, I’LL GET BACK WITH YOU.”

  “SOUNDS GOOD.”

  His thoughts filled with their friend as John searched room to room, looking for Emily. Poor Harry had to learn that his sister had murdered his friend. Well, John’s sister-in-law had been accused of attempted murder—twice—and she wasn’t guilty either time. Maybe Amber wasn’t either? John had read that she’d pleaded not guilty. The trial wasn’t scheduled to begin until early fall.

  He turned the corner to Michael’s nursery and stopped at the vision of his wife and children. Emily’s attention was too centered on the book and children for her to notice his presence. It was moments like this, watching the woman he loved, rocking back and forth with both Nichol and Michael in her lap, that he could forget how this all came to be. Nichol’s little head drooped forward: despite her cousin’s fidgeting, she was sound asleep. Emily’s animated voice continued softly as she continued to read. With each page, Michael’s lids grew heavier and heavier. Their son’s earlier restlessness to try to stay awake gave way to the power of the story, jammies, and methodical rocking. His little head rested against his mommy and his limbs stilled. John waited as Emily continued reading.

  Finally, making his presence known, he whispered, “Hey, I think they’re both asleep.”

  Her bright green eyes peered upward from the rocking chair. “I know, but I wanted to find out what happened to Mr. Bunny. I would’ve lain awake all night worrying about his lost mitten,” she said with a grin.

  John walked closer and lifted Nichol from her arms. “I’m so glad you have one less thing to worry about.” He kissed Emily. “I’ll go put her in her room. How about you and I have a glass of wine and you can tell me about Mr. Bunny’s mitten. I’m assuming he found it?”

  “Oh, you have no idea what an ordeal it was.”

  After the children were both tucked in bed, John went to the kitchen to pour their wine. The stillness of the scene outside the window caught his attention. The Iowa summer sky twinkled with a blanket of stars. Silently, Emily wrapped her arms around his waist. “What are you looking at?”

  “The stars. Let’s go out on the deck.”

  “That sounds great.”

  A slight breeze blew Emily’s hair as they made their way outside. Though the heat of the day had only lessened a bit with the setting of the sun, the fresh air was invigorating. Their home was away from neighbors and lights. Their silver illumination came from the glow of the moon and stars. Sitting on the loveseat, John wrapped one arm around Emily. “This is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “Did you ever imagine this, us living in Iowa?”

  Emily giggled. “Not in a million years.”

  “You know, it isn’t all bad. I’m surprised how much I enjoy working for Tim. Corporate law is challenging, and I like working with Brent, Tom, and, well, everyone.”

  Emily nodded. “All in all, things could be worse. If only…”

  “Don’t do that.”

  She took a sip of wine and peered innocently over the rim of her glass.

  “She’ll get better. Don’t give up on her, and don’t miss out on the blessings that we have by wishing…”

  “I’m not. I love every minute we have with the kids. I think it was seeing Meredith last month. I’m so afraid for Claire and Nichol. I don’t want the world to know what Claire’s going through. Then, there’re those new tests that we’ve authorized. I’m not sure if we made the right decision. Claire was content. Now, I’m afraid of what they’ll learn.” John hugged her tighter. After a moment, she went on, “And ever since Brent mentioned that Anthony’s going to petition for early release, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “What did your grandma used to say about borrowing—”

  Emily smiled. “There’s no such thing as borrowed troubles. Once you take them, no one wants them back.”

  “So don’t do it. Leave them out there.”

  Nodding, she laid her head against his shoulder. The sound of crickets and cicadas filled the night. “This is nice.”

  John chuckled.

  “What?” Emily asked.

  “I was just thinking about everything you just said. I’m so glad you got the Mr. Bunny thing worked out. I can see how that would be the straw…”

  Emily giggled. “Oh, you don’t know! He was searching everywhere for that mitten!”

  “I love you. We just need to take it one day at a time.”

  “I love you too. Hey?” Emily’s eyes grew wide. “I’ve been rambling on. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “How’s work… without Patricia, I mean?”

  John drank another sip of his wine and wished he could tell Emily why Patricia was fired. There was no doubt that he missed having her around the office. Her boundless knowledge regarding the company helped him considerably in the beginning. Nevertheless, John respected Anthony’s decision. He wasn’t sure ho
w many other men would have reacted the same way. Despite the fact that Anthony had only served two years of his four-year sentence and his wife was living in a world that no one could understand or even tap into, when push came to shove, Anthony stood up for his marriage. He’d chosen Claire over the smart, pretty, and available woman who’d worked beside him for years. John hated to admit it, but the longer he worked at Rawlings, the more respect he had for his brother-in-law.

  “We’re doing fine,” he said. “I’ll admit I miss being able to just ask her questions, but I’m an attorney. I love research and paperwork. Now, I’ve got more things to research.”

  “I think it’s strange that she just decided to leave?” Though the inflection of her tone turned her statement into a question, John chose to let it go.

  “Oh,” John said, “Before I forget, we’re getting together with Harry Baldwin tomorrow night. He’s going be in town and wants to talk to us.”

  “Harry’s going to be in Iowa? Why?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “I don’t know what to say to him… about Amber. I’m shocked.”

  John agreed, as the two fell silent and listened to the peaceful sounds of the Iowa night. For a few minutes they could forget about Claire’s troubles, the fear over Nichol’s future, Anthony’s impending release, and even Mr. Bunny’s mitten. For a few moments, they could be husband and wife and enjoy each other’s company.

  Hoping that it would make Harry more comfortable, Emily offered to have their get-together at their home. “I can make dinner. It’ll be like old times,” she suggested.

  “Yes, old times—with two children running here and there,” John replied.

  She shrugged. “All right, new times, but it’ll be more private.”

  John gave her a kiss, as he readied for work. “I’ll let him know.”

  That evening after John came home, Harry arrived to their house. They hadn’t seen him for almost two years, yet he’d aged beyond that. His carefree appearance was hidden behind a new mask of worry and concern. His blue eyes appeared clouded with angst. John knew the burdened feeling, too well. It hadn’t been that long ago that he carried the same look. Seeing Harry reminded John that despite it all, their lives had improved.