Convicted (63 page)

Courtney replied, “But some new things have come up—things from that box you told me about—allegations and suggestions of other things Tony may have done—or at least, he may have been involved with.”

“I promise—I know everything. I’m not saying he was
always
a good man or a good husband. I’m saying he is
now,
and when we were here in Iowa, before I left, he was also. Courtney, he knows what he’s done, and he’s sorry.”

Courtney knelt beside Claire. “I believe you. I can see it in your eyes.” She reached out and held Claire’s hand. “I hope this can all be worked out. You’ve been through enough.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you along.”

“Oh goodness, don’t be sorry.”

Claire sighed. “As always, you’re there for me. Hopefully, someday I can repay the favor. I know it’s late; do you want to go to bed? We can talk in the morning.”

“If you don’t mind me being here until the men get back, I want to talk, and maybe when she’s done eating, I can hold Nichol
Courtney
.”

Claire smiled, her heavy lids fluttered as she stifled a yawn. “I’d love that.” Suddenly, Claire had a thought. “Tony knows that you two know about our past, doesn’t he?”

Courtney nodded. “The FBI showed him and Brent your testimony from 2010 when he was being questioned. After keeping his thoughts silent for almost two years, Brent confronted him.”

“Tony never told me. Well, not until we were almost here. Even then, he didn’t finish.”

“Brent didn’t tell Tony it wasn’t new information, but he did call him out.”

Claire smiled. “Tell Brent thank you. I know that must have been very difficult for him.”

Courtney shrugged. “It was good for them. Now, with all Brent’s done in Tony’s absence, I think they too will be better than before.”

Claire squeezed her best friend’s hand. “I’ve missed you so much. I only learned in the van that you’ve known our secret all along.”

“Once Tony disappeared, Brent knew he was out looking for you. He never thought he was hurt in the emergency landing. The FBI were too elusive. Eventually, Mr. Roach contacted Brent with a message from Tony. They hoped it would escape the FBI’s radar. After all, Brent was the one who hired Mr. Roach to track you last year.”

Claire listened in marvel as all the memories of the past twelve months cascaded through her mind. It seemed impossible that she’d been released from prison only a year ago; so much had happened.

Courtney proceeded to fill Claire in on her and Brent’s children. Maryn, their daughter, was about to complete her doctoral thesis, and Caleb and Julia were doing well. As Courtney took Nichol from Claire’s arms, she added, “No grandchildren—yet.”

Claire remembered how Courtney wanted them. “Well, hopefully one day we’ll be living back here, and you can be
Aunt Cort
or
Grandma
if you’d prefer.”

“Oh no,
Aunt
is just fine, even when I am a grandma we’ll need to come up with a younger sounding title.” Claire went to their bags to get her things, when Courtney’s voice rose in volume. “Oh, my goodness, you probably don’t know!”

Startled, Claire turned and asked, “Know what?”

“You’re going to be an aunt!”

Staring at Courtney’s nodding head, Claire teetered between excited and scared. “Emily’s pregnant?”

“Yes, but she isn’t due until July. We started talking periodically after you disappeared.”

“And, even after you knew we were safe, you didn’t tell her?”

“It was difficult, but not telling her was supposed to keep her and John safe. Brent hated what they were doing to Rawlings Industries, but Mr. Roach assured us that Tony thought it was best.”

Claire collapsed on the edge of the bed. She was too tired to censor everything she said. Shock and disbelief were evident in each word, “Tony knew? He knew you had information that would convince John and Emily to stop their pursuit of Rawlings Industries, and he told Brent
not
to use it? He chose my family over his company?”

Courtney’s blue eyes twinkled. “He did, sweetie. He didn’t know about Emily’s baby, probably still doesn’t, but he knew about the plan to keep them safe. Actually, I think the plan was his idea. That’s why I thought you were all right. I hoped and prayed”—she squeezed Claire’s knee—“It was just that seeing you—I needed to be sure.”

“I am. Now, I’m even more worried about Emily. Oh, my God, she’s pregnant! I wonder if that’s why Catherine wanted to see her. I mean, now there will be
another
child of a child”—her hands trembled—“Why would Emily agree to visit Catherine?”

“I wanted to tell her not to come. I even tried to dissuade her—I told her I could get things from the house. She said she wanted to see everything herself.”

“That’s my sister. She probably thinks she’ll learn more about me if she goes to the estate.” Claire tried to focus on all the issues. “With all the bad publicity she and John generated, how bad is it for Rawlings Industries? I’ve tried to keep up, but it isn’t the—”

Before Claire could finish her question, the ladies turned to see the opening door with Tony’s questioning eyes peering toward them. Grinning, he opened it wider and exposed Brent. “I wanted to be sure Nichol was done eating,” he explained as both men entered the room.

It was obvious that Tony and Brent’s issues were resolved. The four friends had entered a new world. Too much time had been lost to secrets. In the midst of chaos, they’d reached understanding and openness.

Tony large hands massaged Claire’s tight shoulders as Brent stepped closer to Nichol. She was sleeping soundly in Courtney’s arms. Approvingly, he remarked, “You did great, Claire. She’s beautiful!”

Courtney added, “Wait until you see her awake. She has the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes.”

Tony laughed. “Evidence that Claire had a little help.”

“I hope we can all be together tomorrow evening. I have a meeting in Chicago”—looking at his watch, Brent added—“in less than six hours, so perhaps we should get some sleep.”

Courtney asked, “Do you know how long you two will be here?”

Claire looked to Tony. She wanted him to be in control. No—she needed him to be in control. She knew, in order for everything to work, he needed to take charge. Finally, he answered, “We don’t. We’ll need to see what happens tomorrow.”

Courtney kissed Nichol’s head as she handed her back to Claire. Before the Simmons’ left the room, Brent added, “Claire, I can tell you’re scared. I like Roach—he’s good. As long as he and Tony work together, everything will be fine.”

They all knew there were no guarantees. Too many things could happen in the next twenty-four hours—Claire refused to consider the possibilities; instead, she nodded and smiled at their best friends as they closed the door. Claire laid their sleeping daughter on the soft sheet of a portable crib near the foot of their bed and covered her with a thin blanket. Envying Nichol’s innocence, she knew it was like her glass house from years ago—quietly, she said a prayer, “Please, God, help us all work together and not allow it to shatter.”

Before Claire walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed, Tony seized her arm and pulled her toward him. “Brent’s right—you were right—Roach is great. His knowledge and expertise has exceeded my expectations, and I’ll listen to his advice. Tomorrow, after I get back,
we’ll
decide when we’re leaving.”

Claire nodded. She couldn’t respond verbally if she wanted—the lump in her throat was too big to swallow. Burying her head against his chest, she enjoyed the sensation of his arms around her, a shield to keep all the bad away. For the moment, she could pretend everything was all right and forget about the danger. After all, compartmentalization was her specialty.

As they settled into bed, Claire asked, “The thing you remembered in the van, about the last time you talked to Brent, is everything settled?”

Tony wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. Claire’s head rested on his shoulder, she inhaled his musky scent, and listened to his confident tone, “Yes, I believe we’ve reached an understanding.”

“They didn’t have to help us like this.”

“You’re right. Someday, we’ll repay them.”

Nuzzling against his skin, Claire considered pressing Tony to confess the subject of his and Brent’s argument. She wondered if he’d tell her, but then she wondered why she wanted him to confess. After all, that testimony was about another time—another life—a life she had no desire to discuss or remember. Soon, her thoughts faded into nothingness. Traveling had worn her out—sleep would no longer wait.

A friend is one who walks in when others walk out
.

—Walter Winchell

Meredith desperately tried to scroll the contacts in her phone. Her trembling hands, combined with the emotion coursing through her veins, made the simple task more complex.
Did she want to go to jail? Was that her goal? If it wasn’t, why then did she continually find herself in these precarious situations?

It had been almost two weeks since Claire came
out
to her family. With each passing day, she seemed stronger and more resilient. She now engaged in flowing conversation—her one word or phrased responses were a thing of the past. Meredith surmised it was a testimony to Claire’s thoughts. Instead of having fleeting, individual ideas which Claire felt the need to protect, her thoughts now came together in embellished trains—much more conducive for speech.

There were also marked improvements in Claire’s appearance. Truthfully, it wouldn’t have taken much to enhance the lost vacant expression she’d possessed for so long. Just the addition of recognition to her green eyes made her appear a different person; then add hair color and some light make-up, and Claire Rawlings was back. Of course, no one referred to her that way—she was still Nichols as far as the staff at Everwood was concerned. As long as Emily was in control of her care—that wouldn’t change. Emily’s control was undeniably the cause of Meredith’s trembling hands. Claire was more than capable of making her own decisions, yet Emily’s power of attorney hadn’t been lifted.

It wasn’t that Claire’s demands were unreasonable—she wanted access to her daughter—to see her—to touch her—and to love her. The pictures of Nichol, that now decorated Claire’s more colorful room, were a blessing upon arrival; however, with each passing day, they served as a reminder of the beautiful young girl who remained two dimensional. Maybe it was too early—that was Emily’s continual answer to Claire.
What if Claire relapsed?
It wouldn’t be fair to Nichol.

While Claire’s desire to see Nichol sparked Meredith’s fury, it was Claire’s desire to see
anyone
that fueled the vehemence to the point of this impending phone call. Courtney Simmons’ number had been programmed into Meredith’s phone for a while; however, since the Vandersol’s were still unaware of her true identity—calling that number was a risk, perhaps even an invitation to a potential jail sentence.

Closing her eyes, Meredith remembered the tears of her friend only minutes earlier when Meredith exited Claire’s room. For two years, Claire had been unaware of her surroundings, yet content. In two weeks, she’d made phenomenal progress and experienced reoccurring disappointment. Although Meredith hadn’t left Everwood’s parking lot, she decided to throw caution to the wind, yet again. The corner of her phone read—8:57 PM. Swiping the screen, she found Courtney’s number and prayed. She couldn’t guarantee that her current willpower would be present tomorrow or even in ten minutes; Meredith needed to make the call now.

On the second ring, she heard Courtney’s voice, “Hello, this is Courtney.”

“Hello, Courtney, please don’t hang up. This is about Claire Rawlings.”

The momentary silence accelerated Meredith’s heartbeat. Finally, she heard, “Who is this?”

“My name is Meredith Rus—Banks.”

“Goodbye.”

Meredith spoke quickly, “Please, Courtney, I know you know who I am, but this isn’t about a story—it’s about Claire. She’s my friend too—and she needs you.” The words came so fast, Meredith hoped they were separated by enough space to make sense. When the line didn’t go dead, Meredith continued, “She’s doing much better. She’s asked for you.”

“How do you know this?”

“I’m in Cedar Rapids right now. Will you please meet me? I think it’s better if I explain in person.”

After what Meredith assumed was cautious deliberation, Courtney replied, “Fine, perhaps I should call John or Emil—”

“I know Emily hasn’t allowed you to visit. You don’t have any reason to believe me, but I can help you
and
Claire if you’ll please meet with me—alone. If you call them, I don’t know when you’ll be able to—”

This time, Courtney interrupted, “All right. Where can I meet you?”

Meredith remembered to breathe. “Thank you, I can be in Iowa City in...”

Short’s Burger and Shine
was a popular bar, and although Meredith thought a drink to calm her nerves sounded like a good idea, that wasn’t the reason the two women had come to this particular establishment. Basically, it was a matter of convenience; the hour was late, and the small quaint pub on Clinton Street was open. When Meredith arrived, she saw Courtney seated at the last booth. The long, narrow room with the brick walls echoed with the sound of happy patrons; nevertheless, Courtney’s expression, as she watched Meredith approach, told Meredith that Courtney didn’t share the joyous elation of the others.