Truth (63 page)

She closed her eyes and
debated her distress. Was it from the nausea twisting her stomach
or the fear of the unknown quickening her heart rate? The buzz of
the timer triggered her iPhone to vibrate across the dressing
table. Claire’s eyes opened. Before her on the table was her answer
-- the indicator window revealed a blue
plus
.

The bottom fell out of Claire’s world. She
eased herself from the stool and sank to the bathroom floor. The
ceramic tile cooled her legs, while the solid wall supported her
head. Mentally she assessed the timeline: mid-early -- April
period, two weeks later – dream, three weeks later – San Diego and
now – here she was, seven weeks since her last menstruation. How
had she not thought of this before?

Reaching for her phone, she scrolled her
contacts for Amber’s doctor, one of the most sought after
gynecologists in the Silicon Valley. After San Diego, Claire called
and made an appointment, hoping to get a prescription for birth
control pills. The usual waiting period for new patients was up to
six months. Amber’s referral shortened the wait considerably.
Claire’s appointment was in another three weeks. However, now
things were different, waiting wasn’t an option. Then she realized
the day, Sunday, she would have to wait another day to call.

Tears moistened her cheeks
as she placed her head on her knees and gave in to the overwhelming
emotion. Before she could make any decisions, or talk to
anyone
, Claire needed
answers. First and foremost, how pregnant was she -- seven weeks or
four weeks?

Finally, she made her way back into her
bedroom and into the overpowering aroma of roses; thankfully the
flowery aroma was pleasurable -- the three bouquets saturated every
molecule of the room. She’d meant to ask Tony if he’d sent the
other two bouquets. However, with the talk of the wedding and
thoughts of the pregnancy, she forgot.

Claire went to her laptop
and Googled answers. How effective are condoms? The search engine
spun -- answers appeared:
if used
correctly
, condoms are 98% effective.
With
common
usage
the failure rate grows to between 14 and 15%.

What do they mean
if used correctly
? How
many ways are there to use a condom?

Monday morning Claire
called the doctor’s office and was relieved to learn of a Wednesday
afternoon opening. If it weren’t for her
dream
, Claire would consider asking
Harry to join her. However, despite their reconciliation Sunday
morning, there was a change in their relationship. It was her news
of the wedding that pushed his limits. Although it wasn’t declared,
instinctively, Claire knew it. The stolen glances and casual
touches were gone.

Everything probably
happened too fast. Yet, thinking about the possibility they’d used
the condoms
commonly
and not
correctly
, Claire was thankful they were still comfortable and
friendly with one another. Harry appreciated Claire’s bond with
Courtney and her desire to attend the ceremony. He couldn’t
comprehend the necessity of being in Iowa Thursday through Sunday,
and most importantly, why she agreed to stay at Mr. Rawlings’
estate. Claire told him and Amber the truth. She was staying at the
estate for one reason -- to see Catherine.

In many ways, the woman had become Claire’s
mother. She was the steady force during a very difficult time in
Claire’s life. Catherine’s support and encouragement sustained her.
Looking back, there were times Claire wondered if she would’ve
survived without Catherine’s care. Amber and Harry still had their
mother; they couldn’t understand.

When Wednesday arrived, Claire tried with
all of her might to retain the wealth of information. In the
beginning, the doctor’s staff asked a lot of questions, and even
though she’d done a home pregnancy test, they instructed her to
urinate in a cup, to confirm the pregnancy.

The eerie stillness of the
examination room pulled at Claire’s already stretched nerves. She
longed for a hand to hold or a voice for comfort. Instead, she
waited alone on her roller coaster of emotion for the doctor to
confirm the blue plus. Since that moment, three days ago -- every
minute, every second, she thought about the pregnancy. While
shopping for a dress for Caleb’s wedding, she stood motionless for
minutes upon minutes looking at her flat stomach in the dressing
room mirror and wondered:
How long until
it begins to grow?

The last two nights, during the night, she
woke to use the bathroom. Last night she heard her own voice
saying, “Hey Little One, I know you don’t mean anything by this,
but just remember I like my sleep. Maybe we can work on some
compromises.” (Always the master negotiator.) It wasn’t until the
words were out of her mouth that she contemplated her discussion.
Was she actually talking to the cause of her nausea and increased
urination?

As she sat alone in the silence of the
examination room, Claire realized she wanted their test to confirm
the one she took at Amber’s condo. She wouldn’t have believed it
three days ago, but if they came in the room and told her that she
wasn’t pregnant, Claire would be devastated.

That realization strengthened her. She
wanted this baby. Thinking about the paternity, she recognized it
didn’t matter. It did. But it wouldn’t affect her feelings for this
child. He or she was hers. The rest would work itself out, or it
wouldn’t. Keeping this baby safe and healthy was now her number one
concern.

Dr. Sizemore entered the small room with her
laptop in her hand. “Ms. Nichols, congratulations! You are
definitely pregnant.”

Claire’s smile radiated to her emerald eyes.
It wasn’t planned. Potentially she was in the middle of a dangerous
mine field. Her entire world could explode with one single misstep.
None of it mattered. Her world and the treacherous terrain she
navigated were suddenly and forever inconsequential. In her
figurative game of chess, attacking her opponent was no longer as
important as reinforcing and protecting her pieces, especially her
one new piece. Claire would forever have someone else to
consider.

After some discussion, Dr. Sizemore directed
an ultrasound wand and spoke reassuringly, “The external ultrasound
works well later in pregnancy. This early we need to use what is
called trans-vaginal.”

Claire forgot the uncomfortable sensation as
she watched the screen before her go in and out of focus. When the
doctor finally stilled the picture, all Claire could see was white
static, with a dark oval and something white, shaped like a peanut.
Dr. Sizemore explained, “This is your baby.”

A grid appeared,
superimposed on the
peanut
as Dr. Sizemore took measurements.

“
Is everything all right?”
Claire asked.

“
Yes, everything looks
perfect. Do you see this small movement?” A white arrow appeared on
the screen and pointed to a dark pulsating spot within the peanut.
The sound of swishing filled the small room.

Claire nodded.

“
That’s your baby’s heart
beating.” The sound reminded Claire of the calming swoosh of waves
on the shore of her lake in Iowa. Dr. Sizemore continued, “The
heartbeat isn’t detectable until six weeks Estimated Gestational
Age. According to my measurements, Ms. Nichols, you are seven weeks
pregnant, give or take a day.”

Claire laid her head on
the soft pillow of the exam table. Upon the ceiling there was a
picture of three adorable babies, all smiling down at Claire. Her
eyes filled with tears as she closed out the world and considered
her feelings. If the baby were Harry’s it’d be so much easier. Or
would it? Is
easy
what Claire desired? Tony claimed to still love her. Harry
never said he loved her. But then again, could she trust Tony after
all he’d done? She needed answers. She needed to know more about
the man she’d once married, the man whose baby she now
carried.

The doctor pushed a button and printed
copies of the ultrasound screen. Instinctively Claire knew who she
wanted to see these pictures. With a new determination, Claire
realized she couldn’t wait to be in Iowa and talk with the woman
who’d supported her and could hopefully answer her questions.
Claire couldn’t wait to talk with Catherine.

There is sacredness in
tears. They are not the mark of weakness
but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief
and of unspeakable love.
--
Washington Irving

Chapter
42

The BMW stopped
momentarily at the front entrance as the large iron gates opened.
It had been seventeen months since Claire had been on Tony’s
property. The last time she watched these gates open was that
fateful day in January of 2012, the day she drove away. Her heart
rate quickened as the car navigated the winding drive. Being early
June, the lush vegetation allowed only the occasional ray of
sunshine to break through the canopy of leaves, creating a strobe
effect as they neared their destination. When the trees cleared and
the vista opened, the house before her took Claire’s breath away.
She remembered its grandeur. However, with time, memories fade. The
stately reality flourished in its full glory. Had this mansion
really been her
home
? The combination of brick, riverstone, and limestone stood a
paragon of Tony’s affluence. Or perhaps, Claire wondered, was it a
monument to Nathaniel Rawls, Tony’s grandfather? After all, it did
resemble the picture of Tony’s childhood home.

Claire struggled to contain her increasing
anxiety while Eric pulled the car onto the brickyard in front of
the steps. He had met her at the airport and chauffeured her to the
mansion. Although she was still unhappy with Eric’s physical
persuasion last week in San Francisco, his presence was comforting.
After all, he too was a steady presence in her past. Nonetheless,
his words as he opened the rear door increased her growing
fretfulness. Bowing slightly he said, “Welcome home, ma’am.”

Her expression revealed her surprise. “Eric,
I am visiting.”

“
Yes, Ms. Claire. I will
make sure your bags are in your room as soon as
possible.”

“
Thank you.”

Veiled in the shadow of the house, her heels
stalled upon the brickyard. Turning a circle, she took in the
countryside. The bright blue sky and various shades of green
created a palate of color contrasting the landscape of Palo Alto.
She inhaled the warm clear air as she stalled, facing the towering
front doors and insurmountable steps. Did she really want to
willingly enter this house? Moments passed as she stood frozen in
time. Though she willed her body to move forward, her feet remained
steadfast. Rising emotions paralyzed her. She stood motionless when
suddenly the massive door opened and her heart melted. Standing
within the frame of the threshold was the woman Claire longed to
see.

Catherine’s smile prompted tears to trickle
from Claire’s green eyes. Claire wanted to go up the steps, but her
feet refused to move. Lowering her head, she closed her eyes and
surrendered to the sobs within her chest. Her shoulders shook with
intense anguish.

Unexpectedly, a comforting embrace
surrounded Claire. Her head settled onto Catherine’s shoulder, as
Catherine’s arms encircled her petite frame. Stroking Claire’s
hair, Catherine murmured, “Ms. Claire, it is all right. I’m
here.”

At first Claire could only nod into
Catherine’s blouse. Finally Claire reached into her purse,
retrieved a tissue, and wiped her eyes and nose. “I’m sorry,
Catherine. I’ve just missed you so much.”

The two women embraced. “Oh, Ms. Claire, I
have missed you, too. Please come in the house and let us get you
settled.”

Claire willingly followed. How many times
had Claire confidently followed this woman despite lurking
apprehension?

Claire paused as she stepped onto the marble
entryway floor. The grand staircase wound upward toward the railed
second floor. Her eyes continued to move skyward taking in the
elaborate chandelier and the shimmering ceiling beyond. Inhaling
deeply she peered around the foyer. Even though it had been almost
a year and a half she knew every inch of this massive mansion. She
took in the archway leading to the sitting room and the sunporch
beyond. She saw the hall leading to Tony’s office and the French
doors to the formal dining room.

Her body trembled as she mentally moved from
room to room. Catherine reached for her hand, “Ms. Claire, may I
get you something? Perhaps you’d like to rest after your trip?”

Finding her voice, Claire asked, “Is Mr.
Rawlings here? Eric said he was still at work.”

“
He still is, Miss. Eric
is on his way to Iowa City to bring him home as soon as he is
able.” She patted Claire’s hand. “He wanted to meet you at the
airport; however, there were pressing matters. He should be here in
another hour or so.”

Claire nodded. With increased concern she
asked, “Where am I staying? What room?”

“
Mr. Rawlings instructed
to have
all
rooms
ready. It is your choice.”

“
My choice?”

“
Yes. He said to tell
you,
all
of the
suites have locks that operate from the inside.”