“What?” Claire asked, “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 myself!” 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 weaved 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. 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.” Her tears were freely flowing once again.
Tony stood and squared his shoulders. “You’re right. I don’t want you to lose Nichol. We’ll start with a separation…” He explained how it would work. She and Nichol could live at the estate, and he’d stay at his apartment. He didn’t want to stop her from getting custody of their daughter, and with the help of a nanny, there shouldn’t be any legal concerns.
It took every ounce of restraint, but he did it. Tony dampened the flame and worked to set Claire free. Eventually, Claire stood, straightened her shoulders, and silently walked past him, back into the bedroom. He didn’t know what to do. His heart told him to follow her, fall at her feet, and beg for forgiveness. The pain in her eyes had been almost too much to bear. But he’d made his decision, and given his word. This was what was best for her.
Hearing his name, he turned toward the suite. Claire was speaking, “I can’t see Nichol looking like this,” she said, her tone emotionless. “I’m going to take a shower and clean up. I presume my closets are full, like Nichol’s?”
“They are,” he replied.
“Where’s the staff? I’d like something to eat.”
There was no emotion in her voice or her eyes. Perhaps, she too could dampen her flames. No, he knew she could. He’d taught her to do it, required it of her, a long time ago. He replied, “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, turned, and walked away.
As he walked toward the car, he reassured himself that this was for the best. It was for her, and for his Claire, he’d do anything, even give her up.
Driving toward the Vandersols’, Tony maintained his eyes on the road before him. He couldn’t look to his right. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe that Claire was the most beautiful woman in the world—he did. It was that when he returned to the estate with their food, she was stunning and took his breath away. Instead of speaking, he stood mute, watching her from the doorway and trying to remember that she deserved better. It took some time, but he did what he was supposed to do. He reined in the red hunger of desire and dampened the flames. Nevertheless, with the intoxicating scent of her perfume, he didn’t dare look her way. That hunger may have been subdued, but Tony knew too well that it was still present, white-hot coals merely covered with ash. The slightest infusion of fuel would set a raging fire ablaze. Maintaining his feigned indifference, he listened as she spoke.
“I don’t want to tell Emily and John, not yet. I don’t think they’ll understand.”
Tony nodded. “It might be better if we ease Nichol into the idea that her parents live in two separate homes.”
Claire agreed.
When they pulled onto the Vandersols’ drive, Tony noticed Claire’s hands trembling. Without thinking, he reached over and covered them with his. “It’ll be all right,” he encouraged.
“I’m scared. What if she doesn’t want us?”
“She will,” he encouraged, maintaining his forward gaze.
“I haven’t even asked: have you seen her?”
“No, pictures are all that I’ve seen.” He thought of all the pictures Courtney had sent. “I was just released yesterday, and she was never brought to me. It was probably better. A little girl shouldn’t be visiting her father at a federal prison camp.”
“Yesterday?” Claire’s eyes widened in wonder. “And you’ve accomplished all of this?”
“Like I said, I had help. I’ve been planning for my release for some time.”
With his hand still on hers, he felt her stiffen as she asked, “And our divorce? How long have you been planning that?”
Tony pulled his hand away and glared in her direction. Damn, he thought this was done. “Claire, not now. Let’s not go back there.”
“Is there someone else?”
“What?” He could scarcely believe that she’d even ask such a thing. He’d told her that there had never been anyone but her. That was true. It didn’t mean that there weren’t women with whom he’d had physical relationships. There were, but all before her. Never had anyone else owned his heart. No one but his Claire.
“Is—there—someone—else?!” She repeated louder than the first time.
This was ridiculous. “I told you that I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
“Well, you obviously don’t want me! And you’re Anthony Rawlings. You were in prison and your wife was crazy…”
Her argument was beyond comprehension. Sure, he’d received mail. The world was full of desperate women seeking what they comprehend to be available. He’d never responded. Hell, he’d stopped opening them. He didn’t want to continue this conversation. Calming his tone, in hopes of subduing hers, he said, “Claire, our daughter is waiting.”
“I’ve already asked this once, don’t make me ask again. Is there someone else?”
He slowed his words. “Claire, calm down.”
Without warning, her petite hand slapped his cheek. The pain was minimal compared to the shock. Flashbacks of the reverse bombarded his mind. Seizing her fingers, he asked, “What the hell was that?”
“You never answer my questions. Tell me, were there letters? Did women write to you promising anything you wanted, all for the chance to take my place?”
Without releasing her fingers he said, “You’re getting yourself all worked up. Calm down; Nichol is waiting.”
“I deserve to know.”
“Yes. Are you happy? There were letters. I didn’t respond. I don’t give a damn about anyone, anyone but you.” Thinking not of the letters, but of Patricia, he added, “Hell, I even—”
No. He wasn’t going to get into it. He wasn’t going to tell her how he’d fired one of the best assistants he’d ever had because she offered him more than he’d ever want from anyone but the woman before him.
She prodded, “You even what?”
“We’ll finish this discussion another time.” Or not. He released her fingers. “Now, do you plan to join me, or do you plan to sit in the car all evening?”
“I plan to join you,” she stoically replied.
Tony didn’t notice the niceness of the Vandersols’ home as they made their way up the sidewalk. His mind was too busy reining the red from their confrontation and contemplating the little girl behind the door. They last saw her two and a half years ago. To him and Claire that was a long time, but that was nothing compared to Nichol: for her it was a lifetime. She was only a baby and now…
Emily greeted them at the door and led them to the living room. “We told Nichol she had some special guests coming to see her.”
As soon as Nichol came into view, Claire reached for Tony’s hand. Sitting on the floor by a dollhouse was their daughter. Time stood still as Tony took in the beautiful little girl, once again in three-dimension. The pictures he’d received paled in comparison to the vibrant child before them. She was a vision—their creation. She was the place where Claire’s light met his darkness. She was everything that was good in Claire and maybe in him. Her big brown eyes were light with wonder. She was Claire—before him, before he’d hurt her and destroyed
her life. Nichol was the promise of innocence. In that instant, as in the moment Madeline laid her in his arms, Tony knew that he’d willingly sacrifice his life before he allowed anyone to take that away from her.
Claire let go of Tony’s hand and knelt on the floor. “Hello, Nichol,” she said, feigning strength where Tony knew there was insecurity.
Their daughter stood and stared. Finally, John stepped forward, and Nichol reached for his hand. “Nichol,” John said. “Can you say hi to the friends we told you about?”
“Hi.”
Tony knelt beside Claire who reached out her hand. Nichol’s small fingers shook Claire’s hand as she asked, “Who are you?”
Tony laughed. “Direct, isn’t she?”
With a snicker, Emily replied, “Very. I can’t imagine where she gets it.”
“Nichol, my name is Claire, but you can call me Mom.”
Nichol’s eyes grew wide as she peered from Claire to Tony. Finally, she asked, “Are you my daddy?”
His heart swelled. Never had Tony been prouder to answer, “I am.”
Dropping John’s grasp, she stepped forward and touched a small hand to each of their cheeks. Tony waited for her to speak. Finally, Claire said, “We’re really here, honey, and we’re so sorry we’ve been gone.”
Nichol smiled, her eyes lightening to a milk chocolate. “I knew one day you’d come. Aunt Em said you were sick, and when you got better, you’d be here. Are you better?”
Claire answered, “Yes, I’m much better. Nichol, can we hug you?”
Lowering her little hands to their shoulders, she nodded. For a few seconds, Tony’s envelope filled to overflowing. It was everything they had in paradise and more. He remembered their bubble during the night when Nichol would wake. Now that she was older, he saw his directness and her mother’s tenderness. For an instant it was only the three of them and then without warning, Nichol released her hug and rushed to her cousin. “Mikey, know what? I have a mommy and daddy, too!” Looking up to Emily, Nichol asked, “Does that mean they’re Mikey’s aunt and uncle, like you and Uncle John?”
Emily looked their way and replied, “Yes, honey, it does.” Reaching for her son, she said, “Michael, this is Mommy’s sister, your Aunt Claire.” She hesitated as Tony and Claire stood. “And—your Uncle Tony.”
Claire once again put out her hand. “Hello, Michael, I’m so glad to meet you.”
Michael took her hand and smiled bashfully. John’s voice filled the otherwise quiet room. “Kids, if it wasn’t for Uncle Tony, we wouldn’t be here.”
Tony’s eyes went to John. So much time, so many mistakes: was he going to lay it out here? Preparing to accept what he deserved, Tony waited. However, when John spoke, it was not what Tony had expected. “Before you were born, Michael, Uncle Tony saved your mom and me from a fire. If he hadn’t done that, then you wouldn’t be here, either.”
Was that it? Could that be John’s unspoken acceptance? He’d told Brent he wouldn’t fight the reuniting of Tony’s family. And what had he said at Everwood? He’d said that he respected some of Tony’s decisions. Could they truly put the past behind them? Tony’s attention went to his daughter. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she said, “Really? You did that, Daddy?”
“Wow!” Michael gasped.
Choking back the emotion, Tony said, “I did. I’m so glad I did.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. “We’ve learned that the fire wasn’t our only danger. We know what you two gave up—for us. This isn’t easy for me, but thank you.”
Claire hugged her sister, as they both cried.
“Why are you sad, Aunt Em?” Nichol asked.
Wiping her eyes, Emily hugged Nichol and said, “I’m not sad, sweetie. I’m happy. I’m so happy that you have your mommy and daddy again. They love you very much.”
Nichol looked in their direction and smiled. “I’m happy, too.”
Tony didn’t intend to glance at Claire, but he did. His chest ached with pride and love, sadness and regret. It was the promise of a future swirling in a whirlwind of remorse.
Chapter Twenty-Six
October 2016
(Convicted Chapter 51 and beyond)
Tony
I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.—Mother Teresa
EVERYONE WAS ADAPTING to his or her new role. Claire had stepped into the role of lady of the house: not only was she managing the staff that had already been hired, but she’d also hired a few more. Specifically, Tony wanted her to choose the head of her security, and Nichol’s nanny. At first, Claire balked at the need for security, but Tony convinced her that it had always been present. It didn’t matter if there was no immediate threat: the Rawlingses were people of means and as such, were potential targets. When Tony talked about Nichol, Claire agreed. She interviewed a few of the names Tony recommended, but one night she told Tony she wanted Phillip Roach. Claire argued that she was familiar with Phil, and with all the new members of the staff, she wanted the familiarity. It wasn’t that Tony didn’t want to grant her request. It was that Phil had been providing her security all along, just unbeknownst to her.
Tony hadn’t done that because he wanted to monitor Claire’s movements or distrusted her choices: it was solely about her safety. He was sure that Jim wouldn’t approve. Perhaps, if he brought it up to his new therapist, he too would disapprove. That didn’t matter. When it came to the safety of his family, Tony wouldn’t compromise. Truth be told, Roach had been watching over Nichol and Claire for the past two years. At first, Tony wasn’t sure about Phil fulfilling the position as head of security; however, Tony had told his wife that she could have whatever she wanted. She wanted Phil. Now Phil had the position. There was no doubt in Tony’s mind that no one else was as devoted to his family as Philip Roach, except perhaps Eric. When it came to devotion, Eric’s too was undeniable. Tony believed that with the two of them, his family was safe.
The child psychologist recommended that Claire have a nanny in place by the time Nichol moved to the estate. She said it would help with the transition if Nichol got to know her before she moved. After many interviews, Claire found a young woman with whom she felt comfortable. Her name was Shannon, and she and Nichol hit it off immediately. The child psychologist also recommended that the transition to the estate last a minimum of two weeks. During that time, Tony and Claire began the family-counseling sessions, as well as spent every evening with Nichol. After a week, the Vandersols brought Nichol to the estate. Everyone was trying to make the move as easy as possible. The two-week window was closing and everything seemed to be falling into place.
The last night before Nichol’s move, Claire and Tony were encouraged when they left the Vandersols’ home. As they kissed their daughter goodnight, she said, “I can’t wait to go to my room tomorrow night! I can’t wait to be with both of you.” Her little arms hugged their faces as she added, “My momma and daddy.”
On the way home, Claire did little to hide her excitement. “It’s all happening so fast,” she said. “I can’t believe how much things have changed in just two weeks.”
As he listened to Claire’s chatter, Tony worked to remain stoic, to keep the red—the emotion—away. It was much more difficult than he’d anticipated. Emotion wasn’t black and white or even gray as it had been in prison. In the real world, it was a rainbow of color. There was the red of desire and anger, but there was also the yellow of happiness, and dark hues of disappointment. While with Nichol, Tony allowed the color to shine. How could he not? However, when he and Claire were alone, he fought to keep it at bay. The entire process was exhausting. His plan was fine when he was at Yankton. There it had made sense, but now it was different. Instead of speaking of his wife in the abstract, she was real and so close. He longed for what they had while with Nichol—a family. Above all, he yearned for Claire.
Because it was so difficult, Tony did his best to avoid being alone with his wife. However, the night before Ni
chol’s move, Claire asked Tony to come into the house. She said there was something she wanted to show him. Perhaps it was her excitement at Nichol’s parting remark. Whatever the reason, Tony didn’t want to deny her request. He liked seeing her happy. He’d caused her too much sadness.
When they entered the house, Tony questioned Claire’s recently praised management skills. The staff was gone. She said she’d released them for the night. He had no idea that she’d been coming home to an empty house. As he waited for her to return from upstairs, with whatever she wanted to show him, Tony wandered from room to room. Though he planned to discuss the situation with Roach in the morning, he found it to be totally unacceptable. Slowly, unknowingly, color returned. If her managing the staff was to work, she needed to know better.
With each step up the stairs, Tony thought about his stance. It was simple. Until she retired for the evening, someone should be with her. What if she needed something? What if something happened? This wasn’t debatable. As he turned the corner to enter the master suite, Tony stopped. His Claire was there, on the floor rummaging through boxes. What was packed? Was she leaving? Anything she needed was here when she moved in. As the room seeped with crimson, Tony learned that red was also the color of worry. Why would she have boxes?
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