Convicted (47 page)

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.”

“Oh, my dear, I’m so very sorry. I won’t pry.”

Forcing a smile, Sophia sat straighter. “Really, it’s all right. I’ve—had wonderful parents, but t—they’ve only recently passed away, late last summer. It was a car accident.”

Marie shook her head. “I had no idea. I’m truly sorry.”

“Oh, my in-laws have been wonderful. It just takes...time.”

“Now, your husband—Derek—is that his name?”

Sophia nodded.

“Does he have siblings?”

Sophia went on to describe Derek’s family—he’s an only child—his parents were very anxious for them to add a branch or two to the family tree.

“How do you feel about that?” Marie asked.

Shrugging her shoulders, Sophia said, “We’ve been talking.”

Marie grinned. “I’m sure you know—that’s not how it happens.”

Sophia’s cheeks reddened. “Yes, I believe my mother gave me that talk, when I was quite young.”

After lunch, they walked through some of the college shops before parting for the afternoon. Later, when Sophia told Derek about her day, she wouldn’t remember the exact words of their conversation only that it flowed without effort.

With all Derek had happening with his new responsibilities, Sophia knew that he was pleased that she was getting out of the house and meeting people.

As the sun set below the horizon, and the lingering shadows cast their last shades of what might have been onto the isolated beach, a hand fell to Claire’s shoulder.

At first, she hesitated, unsure if the connection was real or imagined. When she could no longer decipher, Claire turned to see the face—the eyes—the man for whom she’d prayed.

Claire’s resolve melted with his touch. The sobs she’d been suppressing erupted as Tony pulled her up to his embrace.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you...” her words were barely audible behind the bellowing cries.

“Shhhh...” If he hadn’t been holding her, Claire wasn’t sure she’d have been able to stand. As she nestled near, his bare chest quivered with exertion. After a moment, they settled on the soft, warm sand.

“Did you ever reach the boat? Or did you finally swim back?” Claire asked, realizing the boat wasn’t in sight.

“It’s anchored around the bend.” He squeezed her tighter. “Believe me, I considered turning around, but I didn’t know which way was shorter the longer I swam; then, as I came back, I couldn’t tell which beach was which.”

“How long did you swim?”

Tony shook his head as a tired grin emerged across his lips. “A lot longer than I’d planned.”

She buried her head into his shoulder. “I kept praying and telling our baby you were safe, but...” the tears came back.

Smoothing her hair, he explained, “I contacted Francis. He knows where we are. He recommended we spend the night on the boat.”

“On the boat?” Claire questioned.

“Yes, we don’t want to be separated from it again, and there’s a small bed in the cabin under the deck.”

Claire nodded. She’d been
below
in the boat before—it was a calmer ride if the seas were rough.

“In the morning, when the sun comes up, I’ll get you home—I promise.”

She looked up to his tired eyes. “I don’t care where I am, as long as you’re there.” She struggled to stand. “Let’s go. You must be exhausted.”

Taking what was left of Madeline’s lunch time feast, they walked the shore around the bend. With the silver glow of moon light, Claire saw the boat only a short way out, bobbing silently in the virtually calm sea.

When they were both on board, Tony lifted the anchors and took them into slightly deeper water. “When the tide goes down, we don’t want to be marooned,” he explained.

Claire grinned. “I’m impressed. Who would have ever imagined Anthony Rawlings learning the ins and outs of marine navigation?”

Lowering the anchors once again, Tony purposely left slack in the rope. When he looked up and saw Claire’s questioning emerald eyes, he added, “See, Francis so nicely mentioned—perhaps I didn’t do that the first time.” Somewhat sheepishly, he added, “He’s right, I didn’t.”