Convicted (70 page)

Courtney smiled. “His sentence has been served at a minimum security prison which gives him many more rights than you had during your incarceration, and his sentence was significantly reduced. As a matter of fact, Brent thinks he’ll be released during his first parole hearing.”

Claire’s heart momentarily skipped a beat. She stared at her friend. Up until now, Claire hadn’t been ready to discuss Brent. The last she’d heard, he was on a plane that went down. “Brent?” Claire’s eyes filled with new moisture as she searched the deep blueness of her friend’s eyes. “Brent’s okay?”

“Yes! He wasn’t on that plane—the one he was supposed to have been on. He later said he wanted to get home to you and Tony, but there were extra legal documents requiring modification. He stayed a little longer in Chicago and decided at the last minute to catch a later commercial flight. It wasn’t until he landed in Cedar Rapids that he knew anything about the crash.”

Claire shook her head—this was all so much. “Parole, when could that happen?”

“I don’t know the date—Brent said soon.”

Claire smiled, she liked
soon
! Though the sky was darkening, she wasn’t ready to leave this conversation. Her thoughts went back to the plane and Catherine. “What happened to Catherine?” Her voice quivered, “D—Did I kill
her
?”—she looked down—“I wish I could remember more specifics. I remember something about an insanity plea. All I could think about was Tony telling me years ago that it was my best option. If I needed a plea, I must have killed her.”

Meredith chimed in, “You didn’t. You shot her, but her wound wasn’t life-threatening. She stood trial—a long and drawn out one—but one that was kept very quiet from the media. She was convicted on multiple counts including multiple murders.”

Courtney added, “That day at the estate—Tony baited her into confessing to more crimes than he even knew existed. Eric arranged for the office to be wired, and Phillip Roach made sure it was all recorded. That information was essential in her conviction.”

Claire stared in disbelief. “So, there was a reason for him to go to the estate.”

Meredith said, “Well that and your sister and brother-in-law. Apparently, they were trapped in an upstairs suite. Tony got them out before the fire or smoke reached them.”

Claire rubbed her temples. “There was a time that I trusted Catherine without question.”

Patting Claire’s leg, Courtney added, “I know Honey—I know you did. We all thought she was so kind and sweet. The saddest part was her daughter.”

Wheels turned, Claire stuttered, “H—Her daughter? Oh, yes, I remember Sophie—no Sophia.”

Courtney nodded, “She didn’t make it out of the house. They said it was smoke inhalation.”

“Oh!” Claire’s stomach wrenched. She’d never met the woman, but she knew Tony thought highly of her.

Courtney continued, “Her husband was on that airplane. Brent said he had great potential.”

Claire contemplated the onslaught of information for a moment. She thought about her grandmother’s beliefs and those of Madeline and Francis on the island. Slowly, she wiped the tears and felt her cheeks rise into a seemingly inappropriate smile. “So, Catherine’s goal was to keep Sophia and her husband apart?”—she didn’t wait for an answer—“I guess God had other plans. Her husband’s name was Burke, wasn’t it?”—she went on—“I hope Sophia never knew her biological mother was Catherine.”

Meredith and Courtney shrugged. Finally, Courtney answered, “I’m not sure what she knew. From the audio of Tony’s office, I think we’re right to assume she didn’t. She died peacefully unaware.”

In the days that followed, Claire replayed the conversation over and over in her head. The loss of any life was terrible. Catherine had been directly responsible for so many; however, what kept coming back to Claire was the idea that Sophia and Derek were still together. She had to believe they were. If their love could overcome death, Claire believed her and Tony’s could overcome insanity and incarceration.

It was that belief that inspired her to confront her sister again, two weeks after her conversation with Courtney and Meredith. “Emily, seriously, I’m not a child. I’m much better. I want to see Nichol. I want out of here, and I’m ready to address the world.”

Emily leaned forward and covered Claire’s hand. “You know I love you?”

Claire nodded.

“We’re all happy your hallucinations are gone.”

“Memories,” Claire corrected.

Emily pursed her lips before she continued, “Honey, I worry about delusional thoughts. Your doctors and I believe some of this has been occurring for a long time”—she patted Claire’s hand—“You have a history of irrational decisions. I don’t want you making decisions now that will later come back to upset you or Nichol.”

Claire continued to plead her case as Emily recited her concerns. It was a different version of their same discussion. Unexpectedly and without warning, the door to Claire’s room opened behind her. She didn’t need to turn, she didn’t need to see. His presence overwhelmed her—filled her and the room with electricity that only seconds earlier didn’t exist. According to the law of conservation, energy can neither be created nor destroyed, which meant the electricity was already present; nevertheless, when the door opened, she felt unbridled power surging through her veins. There was only one person—one man who held that kind of power. Seeing the astonished look on Emily’s face, Claire knew she was right.

Without thought or concern, Claire stood. Closing her eyes, she turned toward the doorway confident of who she’d see when her eyes opened. This wasn’t a hallucination or a memory—it was real. Although Emily’s voice pleaded for Claire to listen, she didn’t hear her sister’s words. There was nothing and no one else at that moment other than her husband. The rest of the world ceased to exist, and she was powerless to do anything other than surrender to his gaze.

They were the eyes she’d dreamt about—the eyes she saw in pictures of their daughter. They were the black holes which years ago swallowed and consumed her heart and soul.

Did she move? Did he?
There were noises, but the words being spoken weren’t coming from either one of them. They didn’t need words. Over the course of the years, there’d been
too many
words—words they remembered—and ones they sought to forget. At this moment, none of them mattered.

In merely a split second, Claire took him in—prison had changed him, to a degree. His black mane now held more hints of white—new lines appeared around his eyes—and the hardness in his expression was replaced by something stronger, yet more serene. No matter the differences, he was still her husband—he was still Anthony Rawlings.

Their bodies nearly touched when the scent of his cologne filled the air. She inhaled the intoxicating scent she’d imagined over the years and melted into his embrace. Her face rested against the lapel of his silk suit as her body molded to his. Closing her eyes again, she relished the sensation of his muscular chest and beating heart. They still hadn’t spoken, yet the volume of the room around them had increased exponentially. His hand reached for her chin and brought their eyes together. It was the blending of brown and green—light to dark and dark to light—it was their connection—and it surpassed all other obstacles.

“I’ve dreamt of those eyes.” The sound of his deep baritone voice brought a smile to her face.

“As have I.” Suddenly, Claire worried and looked away.
Did he know about her break with reality? Did he know people thought she was crazy?

“Look at me.” His commanding tone required obedience. Claire looked back up. “I’ve missed you so much. Why are you looking away?”

“Do you know? Do you know what they say about me?”

His eyes lightened and his cheeks rose. “I know—I love you.”

“They think I’m crazy.”

His hands which held her tightly caressed and soothed her back. “I think we’re all crazy. That doesn’t mean that I’m leaving here today without you. My love, you’re coming home.”

She caught her breath and tried to comprehend. Slowly, the rest of the room came back into focus. Apparently, they weren’t the only two people on earth. Her normally empty room overflowed with people. Emily stood to the side, with tears in her eyes and an anguished expression, as she spoke on her phone. Brent and Courtney were there, and Brent was talking to another man, showing him documents. Courtney was hugging herself, smiling, with tears running down her cheeks.

Finding her voice, Claire sought the reassurance of Tony’s gaze, “I’m leaving here? How?”

Brent nodded at the other gentleman and stepped toward Tony and Claire. Claire reached out and squeezed Brent’s hand. “I’m so thankful you’re...”

Brent smiled and said, “Me too—if I weren’t alive, I couldn’t be the one to tell you”—he grinned toward Claire. His eyes sparkling with new vitality—“I wouldn’t be the one to
help
you.”

Claire remembered him telling her one time, how he’d always wanted to help her—not hurt her. While holding tight to Tony’s hand, she smiled at his clandestine reference.

Brent continued, “As long as Tony was incarcerated, Emily was your listed next of kin and held your power of attorney. I’m holding the judgment by Judge Wein, your husband is, once again, legally your next of kin. Until you’re completely cleared medically, he has the power to make your medical decisions including your release.”

“I thought I was here because of an insanity plea?”

Brent shook his head. “Originally, that was true, but you were cleared of all charges by self-defense.” He looked to Emily and back. “You’ve been kept here for your safety; however, I’ve obtained statements from your doctors substantiating your mental health. Soon, you should legally be able to make your own decisions. In the meantime, with Tony’s signature, you can go home. There are some hoops we need to jump through—therapy you must agree to complete—but we’re not leaving Everwood without you.”

Turning toward Emily, Brent continued, “You can choose to fight—if you want. I’m sure John will be here soon; however, I can assure you—I’ve left no ‘
T
’ uncrossed or ‘
I
’ undotted.”

The aguish in Emily’s expression broke Claire’s heart. Barely able to bring herself to let go of Tony’s hand, Claire walked to her sister and wrapped her arms around her neck. “I know you’ve been doing what you thought was best, and Emily, I love you for it, but now it’s time for all of us to move forward.”

After a moment of obvious internal turmoil, Emily said, “John
is
on his way, but we’re not going to fight.”

“Emily, there’s one more thing,” Brent said as he handed her another document. “This is from the Family Court. Anthony and Claire Rawlings have been granted full custody of their daughter, Nichol Rawlings. They will be assuming the roles of custodial parents—soon.”

As they listened, Tony’s arm tightened around Claire, and she smiled up at him. It was more than she’d ever hoped—more than she’d dared to dream. “We’re going to be a family again.” Her words were a mere whisper that only Tony could hear. Feeling the warm grasp of his large hand around hers was confirmation enough. The terrible ordeal was over.

Never have plans for the future as you never know how things will turn out
.

—Nigella Lawson

Claire clung to Tony’s hand, listened to the voices, and responded appropriately. As long as she held on—as long as they touched—she knew he was real. The Everwood administration required them to meet with doctors and administrators before granting Claire’s release. With Brent’s legal documentation and Emily’s concession, these meetings were Claire’s last hurdle to freedom.

She watched in awe as the Tony from her memories argued for her release. There was nothing about the man in the Armani suit with the gelled back hair and perfect diction that hinted toward ex-con. Tony personified affluence and business success. He sounded like a CEO. Never once, despite what a doctor or therapist said, did Claire doubt Tony’s ability to fulfill his promise—she’d be going home.

Once in a while, Brent would need to remind someone of Tony’s legal rights
as her husband
. It warmed her heart to see the two of them working together on a common goal. Occasionally, someone would ask Claire a question—some were simple—the date or name of the president. Others were questions about her feelings or concerns. After each appropriate answer, she’d feel the squeeze of Tony’s warm hand or see the reassurance of his smile. It didn’t matter that behind the smile she also saw sadness. They had both endured too much. What mattered was that they were together and soon they’d have Nichol. Claire couldn’t wait to leave the facility and have her family united. With each second, her anticipation grew. She knew, when they were, again, a family, the sadness would leave Tony’s eyes, and she’d see the light chocolate brown they once had in paradise.

After they’d signed the last document and answered the last question, she whispered in his ear, “Let’s go get Nichol.”

She expected a smile and a nod—some sign of affirmation. Instead, he directed the Everwood staff, “Gather all of Mrs. Rawlings’ things. I want everything sent to our home.”