Amber listened to what some might consider a mad rant. As Claire finished, her voice slowed, reflecting her utter exhaustion. She listened to Amber’s steady voice of reason as tears slipped from her downcast eyes. Her fatigue wasn’t physical; she’d slept until after 5:00 PM. It was psychological. All of the research was well and good. She could plan and possibly implement a great demise; however, none of that mattered if her friends were lost in battle.
Only after Amber promised a thorough inspection of the SiJo plane prior to departure, did Claire hand Harry back his phone. Harry spoke to his sister for a few moments, hung up, and reached for Claire.
She wanted his embrace, his comfort, and support. Nevertheless, she knew if she took what he offered, she’d in fact be condemning him. Resolving to keep him safe, she stiffly returned his embrace. With her head safely against his chest the trembling ceased. She started to speak, but Harry spoke first.
“I want to hear more about that visit. Why did he come here?”
“I was going to tell you about it as well as the other things I learned…” She pulled from his hold and reached for the water goblet. It shook as she tried to make it reach her lips. “I just haven’t had a chance.” Her voice sounded stronger than she appeared.
Harry watched as Claire regrouped. He saw a mixture of emotions passing like clouds before her emerald eyes. Once again, he put his arm around her shoulders. “How about we eat some of this delicious food and then talk?”
Claire stared momentarily into his pale blue eyes. The intensity she’d witnessed as she told Amber about Tony was gone. Now, she saw concern. Claire replied, “I think I need to find a new place to live.”
“Let’s eat and sleep and then discuss it.”
Claire steadied her stance. “We can eat. We can sleep. But it’s my decision, and I’m not putting you or Amber is harm’s way for my vendetta.”
Harry carried the dish of tilapia to the table and walked back to the stove for the sauce. Drizzling the white cream over the rewarmed filets, he said, “It is your decision, but I’m the head of security at SiJo Gaming. I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself, and as for Amber, we’ll arrange additional security.” He smiled a feigned smile. “For now let’s eat. Someone made us a wonderful meal.”
Claire obediently picked up her fork. With her hand lingering above the plate he’d dished for her, she considered his words. Finally, she nodded.
Taking his seat across from Claire, Harry added, “And as of tomorrow, you’ll also have around the clock security. No more surprise visits.”
Her chewing stopped mid-mastication. Swallowing became difficult as her mouth dried. She didn’t like his authoritative tone; she’d lived through that once and didn’t plan on doing it again, no matter how pure his intentions. After a much needed drink of water, she said, “I don’t think that’s necessary. Tony won’t hurt me. He wants me back in Iowa, besides; I have Phil Roach watching me.”
Harry started to speak when Claire interrupted, “What are we going to do, ask Phil and the security detail to share a car? I mean with the occasional paparazzi, a private detective and a security guard, I might as well lead a parade.”
Ignoring her attempt at humor, Harry asked, “What do you mean he wants you back in Iowa?”
Claire looked back into Harry’s eyes. The intense stare from earlier glowed. It surprised her, how the normally soft shade could stay the same, yet appear so different. She answered, “When he was here, he told me the reason he came to California was to take me back to Iowa.”
“Did you respond?” During the last two months, Harry witnessed Claire’s transition from a quiet guarded woman, into one who spoke more freely. Nonetheless, he wasn’t sure she possessed that ability while with Mr. Rawlings. That was part of the reason he’d waited for her after their dinner. He wanted to be sure the stronger Claire still existed. Last night, he wasn’t sure.
“Of course I responded. I said no.”
“And he was fine with that and just left?”
“He left. He isn’t still here.” Claire looked down at her plate as she stabbed another leaf from her salad. “He didn’t argue, but…”
“But what?”
“He said he wasn’t giving up his quest.” She ate some more salad and added, “I’ll consider the security.”
Harry nodded, and Claire began to relax. The food provided the much-needed subsistence to her weakened body and mind. Without saying it aloud, they’d agreed to table the Tony, security, and housing discussion until later. Soon, they fell into a benign chat about superficial monumental events. Apparently, the Giants were tied one to one in a three game series with Boston. The next game was tomorrow; Harry wasn’t sure the Giant’s pitcher would be ready…
They fooled themselves, if they thought their conversation could be avoided the entire evening. After dinner, they moved to the living room. It was hard for Claire to fathom that earlier the same day she’d sat in the same room with Tony. Now, instead of sitting one on the sofa and the other on the chair, Claire sat nestled into the crook of Harry’s arm. Somehow, the embrace didn’t feel sexual, only protective.
With her head against his shoulder, she pulled from his strength and thought about his patience. In the last hour, she’d dropped a few bomb shells, and she had more to drop, yet unlike her ex-husband, Harry didn’t demand answers. Instead, he provided space and support. She said she would tell him more; he waited, allowing her the luxury of choosing her time and words.
With a deep inhale followed by an audible exhale, Claire began, “What do you want to know?” The warmth of his embrace on her shoulder and side as they both stared into the Palo Alto night fueled her courage. Before the night was done, she’d share the secrets of her life with Anthony Rawlings. She didn’t know what it would mean for their relationship, or if this was what he’d wanted to talk about; however, she couldn’t imagine being with a man who didn’t know her past, to understand her present.
When her history became difficult to articulate, he’d rub her shoulder and remain silent. There were times as she spoke about her kidnapping, agreement of duties, glitches, or her accident that she felt his body tense. Never once did he question her choices. It was if he knew she’d questioned herself too many times to count. She’d asked herself: Why did you agree to marry him? Did you really fall in love? Did you think he loved you? Why did you keep up appearances? Asking questions was much easier than answering them.
Harry continued to listen without judgment. Many times he squeezed her shoulder or kissed the top of her head. Each affirmation fortified her resolve.
She didn’t spare any aspect of her life with Tony. She also didn’t dwell on details. No secrets remained. Nearing dawn, she told him about the dinner. She explained how Tony arranged for an empty restaurant. Then, she told Harry about Tony’s reaction to her knowledge regarding his birth name.
For the first time, Harry asked for verification, “Are you saying he didn’t send that box of information to you in prison?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” She turned her weary eyes to his face. “He was really stunned. That’s why he came here, to find out more about what I know.”
“Did you tell him?”
“I told him the package held pictures, articles, and a letter. He wanted to see it.”
Again Harry prompted, “And?”
“And I told him I’d burnt it. He laughed. I could tell he was relieved, but before he left, he told me not to share my information with anyone.” Her eyes widened. “Oh my God!” She jumped from Harry’s embrace to see his eyes. “I told him it was too late.” Her trembling resumed. “That’s why you were almost in that accident. He thinks I’ve shared the information with you and Amber. I need to get a hold of Emily, and…” Claire just remembered. “I dropped the phone I use with her and Courtney. It’s broken. I need to reach them.” Her words came in short increasingly sharp stiletto sentences. “I can’t let anything happen to her or John.”
Harry held Claire
’s hands, restraining the explosive panic that surged through her no longer calm body. His voice was now calm and slow. “Do you possibly think you’re giving him too much credit? That accident was caused by a sixteen-year-old girl; how could that conceivably be traced back to Mr. Rawlings?”
Claire shook her head. “I don’t know. What about the sudden computer glitches at SiJo?”
“Sometimes, shit happens.”
“I’ll feel better after I talk to Emily, but I need another phone.”
“I understand the need for another untraceable phone to speak with Courtney, but why Emily? He knows where you are. He knows where she is; you’re sisters.”
Claire stared at him momentarily. “You’re right.” She reached for her iPhone.
The angry sound of Derek’s voice brought Sophia out of her restless sleep. She could hear his tone and see his expression; she couldn’t understand the cause. With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Why Sophia? Why in the hell are you sleeping in here?” Disorientation from the sudden wake muted her ability to speak. “I reached for you, but you still weren’t in bed. I thought you might still be drawing. But you’re sleeping, without me!”
Her mind reeled. “How did you know I was drawing?” Her soft voice didn’t mirror his irritation, though it did a poor job of hiding her unhappiness.
“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”
This time a little stronger. “How did you know I was drawing?”
“I watched you.” As he spoke, her body convulsed with repressed sobs. “You looked so beautiful with your hair up, that sexy nightgown, and charcoaled fingers.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? I never knew you were there.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you. It’s the first time you’ve drawn since you moved here.”
She tried to turn her face away. His expression was no longer upset; she saw the man she loved. Even with limited light she could see the concern and relief in his soft brown eyes.
“Please, don’t look away. Talk to me.”
She couldn’t move her arms with his hands on her shoulders, so she lifted her head to reach his lips. His hands left her shoulders and scooped her body into his arms. Between kisses, surrounded by his embrace, she whispered, “I thought you didn’t want me because I can’t be what you want.”
Derek stopped kissing and looked into Sophia’s beautiful gray eyes. The sadness made his heart wrench. “What are you talking about? You’re everything I want. When did I ever say anything different?”
She pushed herself up to sit. “You didn’t, but ever since I got here, I feel like I’m expected to be someone else, you know, Mrs. Derek Burke.” She wiped her eyes on the clean sheets. “I’ve been trying…”
“Stop trying. Stop trying to be someone you’re not. I love you.” His embrace squeezed the air from her lungs. Her body collapsed against his. “I’ve missed my Sophia. Besides, who the hell is Mrs. Derek Burke?”
Sophia smiled from behind her tears as the sparkle returned to her eyes. It was the glimmer Derek hadn’t seen in what seemed like ages. It was the most beautiful sight he could behold.
The last two weeks of stress melted into a fury of passion. For the next few weeks, every time Sophia walked by their guest room, she’d blush.
Together they reconnected their bodies and minds. Glorious sensations sent both of them to untold heights. When their exhausted bodies finally fell into tender embraces, their words revealed more of their misconceptions.
“I don’t want you to be anyone else: not Mrs. Derek Burke. You’re Sophia Burke, and I love you!” His heart swelled with the recent vision of blue clouds floating across his wife’s beautiful eyes.
Sophia revealed her insecurity around people like Danielle and how she felt inadequate amongst the professionals in his life.
While allowing his lips to roam over her full breasts and tight midsection, he tried to explain and demonstrate his approval. Yes, she’s his wife. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her identity to be a reflection of him, only of her. “If you want to work at an art studio, and it’ll make you happy…” His smile shimmered in the darkened room. “…go for it. Do what makes you happy.” Never once did he want to marry someone like him. Truthfully, he never wanted to marry until he was awestruck by the most amazing, energetic, caring, and possibly crazy, woman he’d ever met.
They both knew they’d just overcome a difficult time in their marriage, learning a valuable lesson: the need to communicate. Neither should assume they know the other’s thoughts. They don’t. That ignorance keeps life exciting.
Inhaling deeply, Sophia nestled into his warm shoulder, listened to the beat of his steady heart, and drifted into a peaceful sleep. When she awoke, he was gone, presumably off to work. For the last two weeks, she’d tried to get up and make him coffee and breakfast. Smiling into the tear stained pillow, she realized he didn’t want or need that. He wanted her. Relishing the soft sheets of the guestroom bed, Sophia drifted back to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
—Confucius
Claire reread the email:
To: Claire Nichols
From: Meredith Banks
Subject: Printed Retraction
Date: May 8, 2013
Claire, here is the final copy of the retraction we discussed. It will appear in coming issues of People, Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair, and various online publications. There’s always potential, in this mass media world, for it to be picked up by other sources. I hope you find this final draft acceptable. If I don’t hear from you, it will be submitted. Therefore, if you request changes, please contact me immediately. I look forward to furthering this agreement. I appreciate your decision to work with me on this endeavor. I promise to represent your interests to the best of my ability.
Meredith
Claire clicked the attachment:
“Journalist Seeks Redemption”
Meredith Banks, Independent Correspondent
In pursuit of stories, many reporters and journalists close the gap between perceived and truth. We make this jump for the benefit of our readers. In September of 2010, I made such a leap in an article I wrote concerning Claire Nichols and Anthony Rawlings. There were speculations regarding a relationship between this unlikely couple. I used my familiarity with Ms. Nichols to learn more. I spoke to Ms. Nichols in Chicago; it was not an official interview. I purposely made myself available to an old friend and asked to chat. Following that discussion, I wrote a story insinuating a connection between Nichols and Rawlings. While that connection proved in time to be accurate, I am publicly declaring Ms. Claire Nichols did not reveal the relationship to me during our chat.
She has, however, promised me exclusive rights to her story, promising an enlightening view into the world of her true relationship with one of this country’s wealthiest men, as well as the truth about her arrest, plea, incarceration and unconventional release. Please stay tuned, the wait will be worth it!
Still dressed in her workout clothes, sipping coffee, Claire approvingly read the attachment. Savoring the warm liquid, she considered the implications and wondered if she’d hear from her ex-husband. No, Claire wondered when she’d hear from him. She hadn’t heard his voice since he left Amber’s condominium nearly two weeks ago, and although Harry continued to declare her paranoid regarding Anthony’s influence, she knew in her heart that Tony’s power was limitless.
Thankfully, the inspection of the SiJo Gaming air fleet came up clean. There were no signs of tampering with any of the company’s aircraft. Emily and John were well, and they would soon be in California for a visit. Amber and Harry remained accident free.
Claire conceded she may have an active imagination. Smiling, she remembered finding her black lace panties inside her yoga pants after a very vivid dream. For a moment, she’d actually thought it could have been real, but who in their right mind would agree to hot sex with a man l
ike Tony? Claire’s great imagination didn’t nullify Tony’s influence.
To save her friends, Claire offered again to find her own place to live; however, she honestly didn’t want to live alone. Isolation reminded her too much of her cell in the Iowa Penitentiary or her suite at Tony’s estate, so as long as Amber consented to Claire’s presence, she’d stay. Claire justified: if I move because of Tony, then I’m giving him power. She refused to relinquish her power; she’d done that before.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Claire realized the attached article wouldn’t hit the newsstands for a couple of days. Quickly, she fired back a response, approving the attachment and thanking Meredith for the advanced notice. Claire also sent her cell number and asked Meredith to call to schedule their interviews. The last time they spoke, Meredith suggested the possibility of doing a series of articles. It all depended on the extent of information Claire would reveal.
Claire decided the articles would concentrate on her life with Tony, not his hidden past. She didn’t believe it was her place to disclose that information. For some reason, someone wanted her to know his secret history. If they didn’t, she wouldn’t have received the mysterious box. Although Claire struggled to understand the reasoning, she didn’t feel sharing it with the world was her place.
The haunting questions that infiltrated her thoughts continued to be… who sent the box? Why did they send it? And what did they hope to accomplish?
Merely moments after she hit send on her email to Meredith, her iPhone rang. The excitement in Meredith’s voice reverberated through the cell phone. Meredith made it clear she was more than willing to travel to Palo Alto as soon as possible to begin their interviews. During their conversation, Claire recognized a desire to travel. Since Harry’s near miss of an accident, she’d been stressing about everyone and everything. She needed a break. Meredith lived in Long Beach, and she’d be in San Diego during the next three days on business.
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