Truth

by Aleatha Romig

  Claire’s emerald eyes opened wider. The elation which had filled her lungs evaporated. No longer involuntary, breathing required thought. She stammered, “You think it was Tony?” Claire fought an onset of nausea, “Why would he do that?”

  “I really don’t know. I just know the best thing is to get you out of Iowa especially before the press frenzy begins.”

  Claire hugged her belongings close to her thumping chest. As she remembered the unrelenting press and more importantly her ex-husband, old fears made her heart to race. Looking again at Jane, Claire noticed Jane’s eyes darting between the landscape ahead and the one behind in the rearview mirror. What if Tony or someone else were following her? Claire replied, “Yes, please, let’s do that.”

  The American Airlines’ agent at the counter didn’t question Claire’s Iowa state issued identification. Within minutes she handed Claire her boarding pass -- a nonstop first class ticket to San Francisco, departing in ninety minutes.

  Each step toward the concourse removed a little of Claire’s heaviness. Although the anxiety and apprehension she’d experienced under Tony’s rule knocked at the door of Claire’s heart and soul, she tried desperately to suppress those fears. Her counsel’s attention and kindness helped to alleviate the burden. Claire truly didn’t have time to process her sudden freedom. Turning toward Jane, she inquired, “Tell me again about the pardon. Do I need to check in with anyone?”

  Jane explained, “Everything associated with the charge of attempted murder is now gone. The arrest, plea, incarceration… it’s all gone. Your record will appear as though it never occurred.” She emphasized, “Claire, the last fourteen months never happened.”

  “Thirty-six.” Claire corrected.

  Jane looked into her client’s eyes. She saw the victim’s eyes of over a year ago, not the eyes of an attempted murderer. The sadness combined with confusion told Jane, release wouldn’t be that simple. Removing Claire from the walls of Iowa’s Correctional Institution for Women was easier than removing the past thirty-six months from her memories. There was nothing Jane could say. Getting Claire safely out of Iowa was her only goal. “Please take care of yourself.” Jane said as she pulled an envelope and a card out of her purse. “Here is my card with my cell and office number as well as email. If I can be of any assistance, please don’t hesitate to contact me. And in this envelope are a few things I believe should belong to you.”

  Claire took the items from her attorney and slowly opened the envelope. Staring back at her was fifty dollars in ten dollar bills and a cashier’s check made out to cash for $100,000. “No, Jane. I can’t accept this. This is for you. It’s your payment for helping me.”

  “The cash will help with incidentals until you reach your friend. And, as for the check, it’s a ridiculous amount of money for a few hours’ work. You get settled. When you can, send me an appropriate payment for my services. Consider it seed money to start your new life.”

  “But we don’t know who it’s from.”

  “No, we don’t. If perhaps it’s from whom we suspect, wouldn’t he be happy to learn it went to you?”

  Slowly Claire’s lips turned upward; she shook her head. “No. No, he wouldn’t.” Claire scanned the mingling crowd for a familiar face. Exhaling with relief at the sea of strangers, Claire continued, “And for that reason, I accept.” The two women embraced. “Thank you, Jane, for everything.”

  Claire straightened her shoulders, and turned toward the gate. It’d been sometime since she’d flown commercial, but she knew Jane wasn’t allowed past security without a boarding pass. Thankfully, no one else would be either.

  Jane watched as Claire passed the TSA agents and disappeared into the crowd of bodies. With an audible sigh, Jane thanked God no one recognized her client, and the reporters hadn't been notified. She had no idea how long it would take interested parties to learn of Claire’s release and flight. However long, Jane hoped it was long enough.

  Claire Nichols sat in a row of connected black vinyl chairs, holding all of her worldly possessions and soaking in the scene around her. There were people talking, reading, and even sleeping. Periodically the dim background noise shattered with announcements over the PA system. They told of flights boarding and others delayed. No one noticed her. No one cared that only four hours earlier she’d been a prisoner of the state of Iowa. The buzzing in Claire’s brain began to dull, and her pulse steadied. In another thirty-five minutes she’d be boarding a plane. Claire hoped she wouldn't hear an announcement saying her flight was delayed. She may not remember her initial arrival to Iowa, but she was savoring her final exit. Returning was not on her agenda.

  Her inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of her name, “Ms. Nichols?” A large security officer bent down to speak quietly near Claire’s ear.

  Startled by the man’s closeness and words, she managed a response, “Yes? I’m Claire Nichols.”

  “I need you to come with me, please.”

  Oh God, no! She thought. Please let me get on this plane. Involuntarily, moisture returned to Claire’s eyes as the shrill sound of alarms reverberated within her head. Trying to speak steadily over the deafening panic, only she could hear, she uttered, “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I can do that. I can’t miss my flight.”

  “Ms. Nichols, if you will please come to my office, I’ll explain everything.”

  Claire gripped her bag and contemplated her next move. She shouldn't have left Jane, not yet. She had Jane’s card; she could call her. Her voice and tone exposed her apprehension, “I really don’t want to go with you.” People began to stare.

  Speaking in a hushed whisper, “Ms. Nichols, your ticket has been cancelled.” She shook her head in protest. “It’s all right.” Moving his lips near her ear, as to not be overheard, “Please settle down, your ticket was cancelled, because there’s a private plane coming for you.”

  The security officer’s voice came through a long dark tunnel. The tunnel closed. Only blackness…

  Although the world is full of suffering,

  it is full also of the overcoming of it.

  – Helen Keller

  Chapter 2

  Claire woke with a start, her eyes opened wide. The view was no different than from behind her closed lids -- darkness. Utilizing her senses she felt the softness of the sheets and luxurious pillows, smelled the faint aroma of lilacs, and heard only quiet. Her mind tried to replay the past twenty-four hours. There was too much to sort. Nevertheless, she knew without a doubt, this wasn’t her cell.

  Trying desperately for visual confirmation she searched the penetrating darkness for light. Only a few feet in the distance, she located the illuminated display of a digital clock: 3:57 AM. For the past nine months she awakened every morning at 6 AM. Slowly her mind churned, she wasn’t on the twin mattress, not in her cell, and most importantly, no longer in Iowa. She was in California. The two hour time difference explained her early waking. It was almost six in Iowa.

  Claire tried to close her eyes and enjoy the new comfortable surroundings, yet her mind swirled uncontrollably with a whirlwind of thoughts. Finally, she gave up and got out of bed. Although she wanted to go to the kitchen, she didn’t want to wake Amber, not after everything she’d done. Thinking about her new friend, a smile spread across Claire’s face. Truly, until yesterday, she and Amber had only met once face-to-face.

  Wearing her new roommate’s t-shirt and shorts; Claire made her way to the adjoining bath. Pausing at the door frame, she pushed the light switch and viewed the room where she’d slept. Compared to her prison cell, the room was palatial, containing all the natural furnishings of a bedroom. The queen sized bed had a beautiful headboard covered in ivory fabric. Matching material graced taught boxed valances covering the top of each window. Long vertical wooden blinds kept the room dark, while sleek, modern bedside stands, dressers, and a desk lined the walls. The light golden hue of the blinds contrasted beautifully with the darker wood slats covering the floor. Strategically placed beige
shag rugs added warmth and undoubtedly muffling sound.

  Turning to the tile covered bathroom Claire smiled at the sink. It looked like a green glass bowl sitting upon a stand. Above the sink was a large framed mirror flanked on each side by lighted sconces. Claire paused, staring at her reflection. It looked different. Her eyes glistened with the realization -- it was the smile! It had been so long since she truly felt like smiling.

  Claire assessed herself, she didn’t look as old as she felt. Although, the past three years had psychologically aged her beyond the chronological timetable, the more recent lack of sunshine undoubtedly benefited her skin. She remembered a time when she radiated with a bronze sun-kissed glow. She also remembered her hair lighter, both from the sun and highlights. Today her pale china complexion was surrounded by chestnut waves as her hair hung upon her back. It hadn’t been trimmed or cut in over a year.

  Tip-toeing in stocking feet, Claire silently made her way into the hall. Near the entrance to her room were doors to other rooms. Last night she learned one was Amber’s office containing a desk, computers, and everything she needed to stay connected to her responsibilities at SiJo. Additional doors led to a den and an extra bedroom. Amber’s bedroom was on the other end of the condo.

  Claire continued down the hall, into the living room, and through the archway to the cool kitchen. Everything looked perfect. Although she could, Amber didn’t employ a full time household staff. She reasoned, she enjoyed cooking, and often ate out. A cook would be underutilized. There was a woman who came twice a week to clean and do laundry.

  Though early, Claire longed for real, non-prison coffee. She eyed the coffee maker upon the granite countertop. It was different than any she’d seen before, some kind of individual cup thing. Had making coffee changed that much in fourteen months? She tried desperately to decipher its operation. The metal stand by its side held multiple types of coffee and flavors in small sealed cups. After further investigation and exploration she surrendered and sat at the kitchen table. The quietness of the apartment combined with the freedom to move about as she wished allowed Claire’s mind to replay the past twenty-four hours. Staring through the windows into the dark predawn sky she remembered....

  *****

  When Claire regained consciousness at Des Moines International Airport, the security officer tried frantically to calm her nerves. Once in his office he handed Claire the telephone. On the other end Amber McCoy responded to Claire’s obvious distress, explaining, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just after Liz, my assistant, told me she booked you a flight, I started thinking. Maybe I didn’t need to take this precaution, but after all you’ve told me, well, I just thought it would be better if there weren’t any record of your travel.”

  Listening to Amber’s steady tone helped Claire regain her composure. “Oh, I think that makes sense. It was just when the security officer said private plane, I immediately thought someone else sent it.”

  “No wonder you freaked. I’m glad I was able to reach you. A SiJo Gaming jet will be there soon. Why don’t you stay with security until it arrives? In no time, you’ll be out here.”

  When Claire handed the telephone back to airport security, the nice man offered to get her something to eat or drink. Sipping coffee and fighting feverishly to mend her frayed nerves, she thought about Amber’s reasoning. It was the same reason Jane concealed her activities from everyone. Presumably, the reason Governor Bosley chose to withhold her name from the press.

  The security guard at the Iowa airport walked Claire to the tarmac where small commercial and private planes boarded and unboarded. She’d never been there before. Tony kept his plane and other Rawlings Industries planes at a small private airport outside of Iowa City. The plane Amber sent had large blue and green letters advertising SiJo Gaming, the company started by Simon Johnson. Seeing the insignia reminded Claire of Simon’s large blue eyes. A twinge of sadness seeped into her frazzled emotions as she pictured the man she saw only once since the end of their freshman year of college.

  While flying across country, Claire tried to fathom her recent change of events. She was truly stunned by so many benefactors. It seemed as though not only were these individuals willing to help her, but it appeared these people saw through the façade of Anthony Rawlings. For so long, Claire truly believed his veneer was impenetrable.

  Claire had contacted Amber McCoy after she received Tony’s box of information. It didn’t seem right for Claire to hide the possible cause of Amber’s fiancé’s death. She wasn’t sure how Amber would react. If Claire’s theory were correct, Claire was in essence responsible for Simon’s death – if he hadn’t tried to contact her, he might still be alive.

  Claire realized her assumptions were astounding, and she had no proof. Nonetheless, as the two conversed, Claire spun an amazing tale of deceit and vengeance. Apparently she’d been convincing enough to gain Amber’s trust. In the months that followed, through multiple emails (Claire had limited computer access while incarcerated) they shared information and research regarding the materials Tony offered in his box. Together, they were in the process of recreating much of the information.

  The need to recreate was due to Claire’s impulsivity. In a moment of weakness she decided to throw most of the information in the prison’s incinerator. Sometimes she reasoned it wasn’t weakness, but strength -- the strength to rid her of her past, a sort of cleansing. Fortuitously, she’d chosen to save a few non-duplicable items, pictures and the Top Secret report.

  Claire wasn’t sure what she planned to accomplish when she recreated the box of information. She’d planned to have more time. However, she wasn’t complaining. Being released from prison almost four years early was worth the uncertainty regarding her intentions. She and Amber would continue to recreate the timeline, understand Tony’s past in order to influence his future. Perhaps others would join their quest. Claire didn’t know if Emily was up for the challenge.

  Thinking about her sister, Claire knew she loved her. However, understandably Claire’s arrest and confessions strained their relationship. The accusations and concerns Emily professed and Claire vehemently denied during her marriage were now realized. Claire’s deceit cost them both dearly. Truthfully, Tony made the final call, ultimately responsible for Claire’s incarceration, John’s charges (embezzlement and fraudulent client billing), and every bad thing that happened on planet Earth in the last forty-eight years. Emily tried to support Claire while she was in the Iowa prison. Their interaction was superficial at best. Now that Claire was pardoned, reconnecting with Emily was high on her priority list.

  As the small jet cleared the Santa Cruz Mountains, twilight descended upon Silicon Valley. The lights of Palo Alto greeted her, and the airport bustled with commuter planes. It was one of the busiest private airports in the country.

  Wishing for invisibility from her ex-husband, Claire prayed one woman on one jet would go completely unnoticed.

  As the door opened and the tepid air filled the cabin Claire allowed herself to experience the relief associated with freedom. The change of scenery helped facilitate her emotional shift. Placing one foot in front of the other she disembarked the plane. After three years of constant surveillance, the uncertainty of California’s possibilities thrilled and terrified her.

  Her future was in her hands --such a simple statement of independence. Nonetheless, it could not have been made twenty-four hours earlier. Claire thought about that; it could not have been made thirty-six months ago. Straightening her shoulders and lifting her head high, Claire scanned the concourse.

  As if knowing Claire’s need for immediate confirmation and reaffirmation, Amber walked silently from an unmarked hanger. She looked much different than she did eighteen months ago at Simon’s funeral. Not physically, as Claire recognized the slender brunette instantly. The difference was her presence, no longer grief stricken; Amber radiated a casual confidence and a self-assured aura. Their eyes met and Amber moved toward her.


  On the concrete concourse the two friends and strangers, embraced. The day had already been extremely long. Emotionally overloaded, Claire was thankful for her new friend and ready for quiet time. Amber understood and drove them to her condo, with minimal stops on the way for essentials.

  Nestled near downtown Palo Alto, Amber’s condominium blended perfectly into its surroundings with its stucco walls and orange tiled roof. They parked in an underground garage after waving to the security officer guarding the entrance. When the elevator opened to the fourth floor, Claire recognized the true grandeur of the building, with wide hallways giving access to multiple dwellings. Amber explained, she’d lived there for years, loved the neighborhood, people, and city. As a bonus, SiJo Gaming was near. She didn’t need to fight the daily San Francisco traffic.

  Hardwood floors, taupe walls, and recessed lighting combined to make her condo warm and inviting. The two ladies settled onto comfortable stools at Amber’s high kitchen table and became better acquainted. Claire gazed around the room and took in the simplistic chic style. The understated panache and flair appealed to Claire. It wasn’t the grandeur of the mansion she shared with her ex-husband, yet nonetheless, lavish and elegant. The granite counters and table top felt cool and smooth. The high stools in which they sat allowed her feet to pivot upon the cast iron bar.

  Their conversation proceeded benignly. Perhaps Amber could sense Claire’s dazed realization; during the hours that followed, the two women connected. They shared sushi, wine, and discussed their common bond. As the hours slipped away and the outside darkness intensified, their interaction within became increasingly real.

  Nineteen hours earlier, Claire woke in a prison cell. It was the day that wouldn’t end. She was physically and emotionally spent. However, Amber must have realized there was a conversation they needed to undergo. Claire wasn’t ready for Amber’s question, “Did you love Simon?”