Convicted (52 page)

He leaned back and took in Claire’s appearance. “My, Mrs. Alexander, it appears as though you’re about to have a baby!”

“Really?” she said, putting pressure in the small of her back and arching her shoulders, “I hadn’t noticed. I thought I was just enjoying Madeline’s good cooking—a little too much.”

Tony laughed. Lowering his voice, he leaned toward Phil. “Be careful, someone—who shall remain nameless—has been increasingly sensitive lately.”

Claire eyed her husband. “After you carry around an extra twenty-five pounds in one hundred degree heat for months, then we’ll discuss
being sensitive
.”

The men smiled knowingly at one another.

“Fine,” Claire said with a feigned pout as she sat back down.

“Monsieur Roach?” Francis interrupted. “Would you like me to show you to your room?”

“Thank you, Francis, but if it’s the same one, I know the way.” Turning to Tony and Claire, he added, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get cleaned up after that long flight.”

Forgetting her
sensitivity
, Claire grinned. “Please make yourself at home. We’re so glad you’re here.” Phil excused himself while Madeline and Francis disappeared into the house. For a brief time, the newlyweds were alone.

Exhaling, Claire lifted her face toward the sea and closed her eyes. Renegade strands of hair stuck to her moist warm skin. She pried the wayward tendrils from her neck and relished the growing, refreshing breeze. When she opened her eyes, the softest hues of chocolate brown filled her vision. Surprised by Tony’s closeness, Claire lifted her chin causing their noses to touch, and with a giggle she asked, “What?”

“Don’t let Phil fool you; you’re beautiful.”

She pursed her lips together and reached for his cheek. The slight stubble tickled her fingertips. “I’m glad you think so”—It was then she noticed his position—“Why don’t you bring that other chair over here? Why are you on the ground?”

“Because, Mrs. Rawlings, I wanted to be on one knee when I gave this to you.” From his pocket, Tony produced a platinum band embedded with diamonds. It was nearly identical to her original ring.

“Oh, Tony! It’s beautiful. It looks just like my first one.”

“Hopefully, one day, we can get back to Iowa, and you can have both of them.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Do you know today’s date?”

She watched as recognition overtook her husband’s expression. “I hadn’t realized,” Tony replied. “I’d say Roach’s arrival couldn’t have been better timed!” He leaned forward and kissed her gently. “Happy
third
anniversary, my love. I seem to acquire more and more regrets, but without a doubt, the fact that we aren’t still in our first marriage is one of my greatest.”

She framed his face with her petite hands. Before looking into his eyes, she took a moment and admired the sparkling band above her engagement ring. “It’s beautiful and somehow—believe it or not—I think this is better. We can have both”—she tried to explain—“Those people—the ones we were when we married three years ago were in a very different place than we are today.”

His devilish grin emerged. “I’d say they’re about half a world away.”

Kissing his lips, she replied, “Literally and figuratively.”

Their journey wasn’t complete. If their relationship had been a poker tournament, unquestionably, they’d not been dealt the best cards. When faced with the same odds, as Tony and Claire, many players would have folded and walked away. They hadn’t—they’d continued to play. In the process they’d grown and changed. At one time, they were opponents, strategizing against one another, now they were teammates, yet their tournament wasn’t over. It was too early to declare the winner. They both knew there were more cards to be revealed.

When Phil joined them for dinner, he looked much more relaxed, and told Tony and Claire all about Catherine and her quest to learn more and more about Sophia. “She seems different than when she hired me to send you the packages.”

It amazed Claire how casual he was with both her and Tony about what he’d done. Maybe it was true, honesty made even the most absurd circumstances less bizarre.

Phil continued, “I took a few pictures of her with Sophia. Ms. London looks different to me, don’t you agree?”

He showed his phone to Tony first. Claire’s husband’s countenance changed before her eyes. His posture straightened and the veins in his neck became visible. When he continued to stare without speaking, Claire asked, “May I see?”

Phil moved the phone to her line of vision. The golden flecks in Phil’s green eyes danced as he murmured something about once seeing a picture on Claire’s phone. Her mind immediately went to San Antonio. Thankfully, Tony was too lost in his own thoughts to process what they were saying. She reached out and covered Tony’s hand with her own. The diamonds embedded within the bands of her wedding and engagement ring sparkled behind the beacon of the engagement solitaire.

“She does look different,” Claire confirmed. “Her hair is shorter and darker, but there’s something else—I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Confidence,” Tony replied, his tone restrained. “She looks like she did when my grandfather was alive. I’d say she feels very confident in her future. I’m sure she thinks that I’m hiding out somewhere, and she’s safe to sit back and enjoy spending my money.”

“Can she do that?” Claire’s voice raised an octave.

Phil was the one to answer. “The way Mr. Rawlings’ estate is set, Ms. London has access to a very nice trust fund designed to help her manage the estate; however, the provisions are rather non-restrictive. How she chooses to spend the money won’t be questioned.”

Tony looked skeptically toward Phil. “Did she share this with you?”

“No. I could only spend so much time looking at art. I spent a great deal of time researching different trails—that was one. Your grandfather was another.”

Tony nodded as his dark eyes questioned.

Still holding Phil’s phone, Claire asked, “Have I met Sophia? She looks very familiar.”

“Not to my knowledge,” Tony answered. “But then again, you did live close to one another in California.”

Claire shrugged and gave Phil back his phone. “I hope she’s safe. I no longer trust Catherine—even with her own daughter.”

Everyone looked up to the blue sky as a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Phil commented, “That’s why the pilot rushed to leave the island so fast. The weather predictions had quite a storm coming through this area tonight or tomorrow.”

“Typhoon season was officially over the end of October,” Claire said, remembering some of her meteorology education.

“Over or not, I saw the weather models and paid extra to get here before the storm hit.” Phil grinned. “Okay,
you
paid extra. My other option was to wait until it passed. They told me it could be a one to three day delay—depending on the severity of the storm.”

“Most of the weather systems never make it here,” Tony offered. “We hear the rumble; however, all we usually get is a steady rain, often in the night, then nothing.”

“That sounds encouraging,” Phil answered. “I hope you’re right. From what little I know about weather, the models looked intense.”

Claire sat straighter. “I’ve read about barometric pressure affecting delivery. I know I’m early, but that would be fine with me.”

Tony’s eyes screamed alarm, nonetheless his voice remained calm. “Yes, once we’re near the doctor—that would be great—not before.”

Fighting the resurgence of pain in her lower back, Claire feigned a smile. “There are still a few things you can’t control.” She stood and reached for his hand. “And, I love that you think you can.” Her grip tightened.

Tony looked up to Claire’s expression. He recognized the clouds of pain settling behind her emerald eyes. He’d seen them before, but he didn’t want to see them again. Unconsciously, his concern for the child lessened proportionally to his increased worry for his wife. “Claire, it’s still early in the day. The sun won’t set for hours; let’s go into town.”

She shook her head from side to side. “I think I just need to lie down for a little bit, dinner isn’t sitting too well.” Turning toward Phil, she managed, “I’m sorry that I’m not being more hospitable. It seems that eating is more uncomfortable than it is satisfying.”

“Let me help you—” Tony interjected, as he began to stand.

Claire stopped him. “Don’t be silly. You two talk about whatever Phil’s learned about Nathaniel. I need a nap, and by later tonight, I’ll be fine. Then you two can fill me in.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be down to check on you soon.”

She released his hand and brushed his shoulder. “All right.”

Tony watched as she disappeared through the archway toward the hall. The anticipated delivery was wearing on him as much as it was her. Placing his elbows on the table, he lowered his head to his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair.

He wanted to put Claire on a plane and fly her back to the United States. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing she had the best medical care possible.
He was a fuck’n billionaire! His wife shouldn’t be giving birth in the middle of nowhere.
Tony knew he’d put Claire in harm’s way in the past—both intentionally and unintentionally—now he’d do anything to keep her safe.

Roach’s worried voice caused Tony to look up. “Francis and I can go for the doctor?”

There was a time when having another man so obviously care for his wife would’ve upset Tony; however, looking across the table, he knew it was right. Tony felt no more threatened by Phillip Roach than he would have by Eric or Brent. He actually welcomed the common bond. Roach was their
ace in the hole
. Tony didn’t like admitting that he needed help, and he probably never would verbally; however, having Roach present to go for help or be their eyes and ears back in the states was reassuring.

Tony replied, “Let’s give her some time. She goes from one hundred miles an hour to zero a lot lately. One minute, she’s going through baby clothes, folding and refolding. The next, she’s in the kitchen helping Madeline; then next, she’s asleep. I’ll check on her soon. If she’s still having these pains—I think it’d be a good idea.” Looking down at his hands, Tony softly mumbled, “Thank you.”

Phil nodded. “In the meantime, do you want to know what I’ve learned about drug interactions?”

“I have the feeling I do, but mostly, I’m thinking I don’t give a damn.”

Phil leaned back in his chair, inhaled and exhaled. “You will, I promise.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Tony replied, “Okay, my man, care to enlighten me?”

We all have time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Others take us forward, they're called dreams.

—Unknown

Claire made it to their suite before the nausea hit with a vengeance. Stumbling into the bathroom, she fell to her knees and her trembling hands held her head over the toilet. It was the first time since morning sickness that she’d vomited. Perspiration drenched her skin as she her meal projected into the water below. When she was done, Claire laid her head on her arms and waited. As if awoken by her violent lurches, her temples throbbed and her midsection contracted. Gaining strength, she made her way back out into the bedroom. If she lay down, Claire believed the discomfort would stop. After strategically placing the pillows of the bed around her, she hugged another. The fetal position seemed ironic, yet with another pillow between her legs, it was the only position that gave her solace.

The curtains billowed as a refreshing breeze moved the previously still air about their suite. Claire relished the coolness on her clammy skin and concentrated on her breathing. Officially, she was just a little past thirty-six weeks into her pregnancy. Everything she read said thirty-eight to forty weeks were considered full term. Although she was ready for the pregnancy to be done, Claire didn’t want their baby born too early. Unexpectantly, she flinched as thunder rattled the windows. She looked around the suite bathed in the early evening light and listened to the low howl of the growing wind. Suddenly, the room filled with a flash of light.