Convicted - Romig Aleatha (читать книги полностью без сокращений .TXT) 📗

A new thought came to her mind. With it came fire that instantly dried her once moist eyes. She suddenly needed to know the answer to a burning question. “Is there someone else?”

“What?”

“Is—there—someone—else?!”

“No!”—his volume rose—“I told you, 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; nevertheless, you’re still Anthony Rawlings. You would eventually get out of prison, but your wife would always be crazy. I bet there were letters of devotion, propositions, and proposals.”

“Claire, our daughter is waiting.”

Sudden rage boiled within her. While she’d been living in a fantasy world, was he communicating with another woman or women? The intensity of her stare grew as she asked again, “I’ve already asked this once, don’t make me ask again. Is there someone else?”

“Claire, calm down.”

Her hand contacted his arrogant expression. Tony stared in disbelief as he seized her fingers. “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?”

“You’re getting yourself all worked up. Calm down; Nichol is waiting.”

She glared as her voice lowered. “I deserve to know.”

“Yes.” His eyes glowed in the illumination of the dashboard. “Are you happy?” His growl deepened as he continued to painfully hold her seized hand. “There were letters—I didn’t respond. I don’t give a damn about anyone—anyone but you. Hell—I even—”

Claire’s heart raced. She waited for him to finish his sentence; instead, he released her hand and turned away. She prodded, “You even what?”

“We’ll finish this discussion another time.” It wasn’t debatable. He’d said more than he’d wanted, and he wasn’t saying any more. That conversation was done. “Now, do you plan to join me, or do you plan to sit in the car all evening?”

Rubbing the fingers of her right hand, she replied, “I plan to join you.”

When Emily met them at the door, they wore the masks of the perfect smiling couple. It was all right—Emily wore a mask too. “We told Nichol she had some special guests coming to see her.” Despite Emily’s show of strength, Claire heard the sorrow in her sister’s voice.

Walking into the living room, they both stopped when Nichol came into view. Without thinking, Claire grasped Tony’s hand. Once she realized her action, she quickly let go, thankful that he hadn’t pulled away.

The last time they saw their daughter, she had been less than three months old. The little girl before them was nearly three years old, and the most beautiful child Claire could ever recall seeing—even prettier than her pictures. Her wavy, brown hair, held back with barrettes, framed her beautiful face. Her thick dark lashes fluttered as big brown eyes peered upward. She’d been sitting on the floor playing with a dollhouse when she turned to see Aunt Em’s friends.

Claire knelt to the ground, afraid to get too close, afraid of scaring her daughter away. Mustering her confidence, she said, “Hello, Nichol.”

Their daughter stood and stared. Claire marveled at her perfect, petite body. 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. Is it possible for a heart to melt and break at the same time? Claire reached out and Nichol’s small fingers shook Claire’s hand. Their daughter 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”—she hesitated—“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?”

“I am.”

They all waited. Dropping John’s grasp, she stepped forward and touched a small hand to each of their cheeks. Claire closed her eyes and savored her daughter’s touch. Instantly, Claire understood their daughter’s actions. It was the same thing she did when Tony arrived at Everwood—touching him—verifying that he was real. Claire reached up and covered Nichol’s hand with hers. “We’re really here, honey, and we’re so sorry we’ve been gone.”

Nichol smiled, her big brown eyes lightening. “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?”

Fighting back the tears, 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, their family was whole; then without warning, Nichol released her parents and rushed to her cousin. It was the first time Claire had noticed the little blond boy hugging Emily’s legs. She was about to say something about Michael when Nichol announced, “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 and Claire’s eyes met. Emily replied, “Yes, honey, it does. Michael, this is Mommy’s sister, your Aunt Claire.” She hesitated as Tony and Claire stood. “And—your Uncle Tony.”

The children couldn’t hear the anguish in Emily’s voice—at least, Claire prayed they didn’t, but she could. They all knew what a long road this had been. Claire 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 your Uncle Tony, we wouldn’t be here.”

The blood rushed from Claire’s face as she looked to Tony and back to John. Suddenly, it was six years earlier and Claire feared John’s next words. It wasn’t that she feared for herself or possible consequences. Claire was tired of conflict. She only wanted for her family to co-exist without confrontations. John continued, “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.”

Nichol’s eyes widened. “Really? You did that?”—she added—“Daddy.”

“Wow!” Michael gasped as he looked up at his new uncle.

It was a first step—a baby step—but progress nonetheless. Claire’s eyes glistened as she mouthed thank you to John. She couldn’t recall a more congenial gathering with her family—all of her family. The addition of children not only brought joy to their individual lives, it provided a new bond to hold them together. Pensively, she wished it had done the same for her and Tony.

The first morning that Claire woke in her new home, she lay staring at the ceiling. It had happened again. In a twenty-four hour period, her life had, once again, taken an abrupt turn—new cards and new decisions. She was free—from Everwood—from everyone. Tony made sure of that. He provided her with the means necessary to do anything she ever wanted. She had access to Nichol—it wasn’t full access—but that would come with time. As Claire recalled their brief family hug, her heart ached.

From the time she learned that Tony was alive, she’d imagined the perfect reunion. For a couple of hours, it was her reality. The way Tony fought for her release from Everwood fit perfectly into her knight-in-shining-armor fantasy. She wished the few seconds in Emily’s living room would have gone on forever. If they had, if their story ended right there, she could’ve had her happily ever after.

Tossing on the soft sheets, Claire looked out to the bright morning sky, through the giant wall of glass. She wondered what happened to those fairy tale couples after the last page. Was happily ever after even obtainable? Her new life wasn’t terrible. She’d take the cards she’d been dealt and try to make the best out of it. After all, that’s how she’d survived until now. As a young girl, she’d never dreamt of wealth, yet she had more money than she could ever spend. Fame? She never wanted it and detested having it. What had she wanted out of life? What requests had she made?