Truth

by Aleatha Romig

  Tony smirked, “Yes, I wanted that. I didn’t want to know you, like the real you. I fought it for months. But you were this light that kept sucking me in. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. We weren’t supposed to happen.”

  “What was supposed to happen?”

  “Well, the takeover,” he emphasized the use of her term, “was supposed to stop you. I never expected anyone to flourish under such circumstances.” He looked at Claire with a gaze of admiration as he continued, “You didn’t just flourish. You conquered.” He took another drink of his wine. “I’ve continually underestimated you or perhaps I should say, you’ve continually exceeded my expectations. You still do. You are the only person who has ever derailed me. And more than anyone, you know me, not Anthony Rawlings, me.”

  Claire knew she’d had the rare opportunity, as Catherine so eloquently told her once. She pushed forward, “The real you. Would that be Anton?” His expression morphed. Sadness fell like shadows over his face. The despair reached into her chest, physical ache came at seeing his expression.

  He exhaled, “I suppose, yes, but not anymore. I had it legally changed. So, you see, I didn’t lie. My legal name is Anthony Rawlings, and it has been for a long time.”

  Claire stood. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel pity. Instead she did what people do when trying to avoid their true emotions; she lashed out, “You share this with me now, but not when we’re married. That tells me that you never trusted me, the only person to really know you.” The last clause emphasized. “Plus, you threw me away and left me to rot in prison.” She exhaled in exasperation, “You say you love or loved me, past or present. You don’t know what love is. You have an obsession and it really needs to stop. Stop watching me. Stop having me watched. Your fun is done. It’s over.”

  He returned his gaze to the red liquid, slowly swirling it within the confines of the crystal globe. His words weren’t rushed, instead a slow release, divulging hidden truths that only recently he’d come to know, “I don’t know how to explain it. It was a loop hole. Don’t you understand?”

  Claire stood motionless; she didn’t understand.

  “I tried to help you.” His eyes stared with need. “Anyone else would have jumped at the insanity plea. I had a hospital all set; your commitment time would’ve been negotiable. But no.” He stood once again, “No! You refused! By doing that, you took your sentence away from me and gave it to the state of Iowa. I no longer had influence over your release.” He turned to face her and his volume increased, “Why did you have to be so damn obstinate?”

  “Me? You’re accusing me of being obstinate? I didn’t want you in control of my life any longer. I was willing to let the state of Iowa decide, rather than you.”

  Tony looked perplexed, “It was the only way to save you.”

  Claire tried to comprehend his words, “I have no idea what you’re saying. Save me, from what?”

  Tony looked down, his tired eyes suddenly dark and gloomy and his voice flat with restrained emotion, “Me.”

  The temperature of the room dropped. Claire felt the goose bumps materialize on her arms and legs as she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. Slowly she sunk into the chair to Tony’s left. The silence stretched between them, little by little filling each available molecule in the suite. The intensity of the quiet, made the air difficult to breathe. Claire tried diligently to fill her lungs with oxygen. She wasn’t sure what he meant, but somehow the confession seemed monumental.

  The sound of her vibrating telephone shattered the silence. She jumped as the small devise danced ringlessly across the table before them. The screen flashed: HARRY CELL. She saw Tony’s eyes read the name before he turned away.

  His question sounded strangely distant, “Are the news stories accurate?”

  “You should know the accuracy of news reports.” She replied as the phone continued to vibrate.

  “Perhaps I should answer it?” Tony offered. His voice now clipped. The spell that encased the suite and isolated them from the rest of the world was broken. She wouldn’t learn anymore about his attempt to save her this evening.

  “No, thank you. I’ll be just a minute.” Claire reached for the iPhone, stood, walked into the bedroom, and accepted the call. “Hi.” Although she was trying for light and carefree, she feared she failed miserably. Her mind was still reeling from Tony’s declaration.

  When we were children, we used to think that when we grew up

  we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability;

  to be alive is to be vulnerable.

  - Madeleine L'Engle

  Chapter 24

  Harry’s tone brought light back to Claire’s dark suite. “How did your meeting with Meredith go?”

  The insinuation of dread no longer lurked in corners and unknown hiding places; radiance flowed with the promise of better things. She absorbed the positive energy, closed the door between the bedroom and living room, and answered. “I think it went well. Mostly, we just reconnected.”

  “That’s probably a good first step.” He paused, “I miss you. I still think I should be there.”

  Claire exhaled, knowing he deserved honesty. Her voice was hushed, “I have a surprise visitor.”

  She heard the change in his countenance. His voice suddenly tensed as his words came too fast, “Is he still there? Are you all right?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  “I’ll get a SiJo jet and be there in an hour and a half.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” she continued to keep her voice low, “although, I would love to see you. But seriously, you need to work tomorrow; I’m fine. I’ll call when he leaves.”

  “He isn’t the only one who can jump on a plane to see you.”

  Claire shook her head. “You know, I never wanted to be someone people jump on planes to see.”

  “I’ll be waiting for your call. If you change your mind and want me there sooner call, text, or send smoke signals.” His attempt at levity made her smile; he continued, “I’ll be there.”

  The grin traveled through the phone, “Thanks, I will, I promise.”

  “I like hearing that smile. Just remember... it’s for me.”

  “How can I forget?” she asked. “I’ll call soon.”

  “I hope so. I’ll be waiting. Bye.”

  “Bye, soon I promise.” She disconnected the line.

  Claire saw her phone, now solely used for Courtney, flashing on the dresser. She checked the screen, one text message, and hit the button: BRENT JUST CALLED. TONY’S MAKING AN UNSCHEDULED TRIP TO SAN DIEGO. YOU AREN’T THERE, ARE YOU? JUST WONDERING... THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW. Claire smiled, fortified by the support of others.

  Hesitantly, she approached the door to the living room. Her hand seized the handle; the cool metal calmed her nerves. She took a deep breath and pulled it open.

  She half-expected to find Tony standing directly on the other side of the closed barrier. Opening the door and stepping through the threshold, she saw him standing again at the windows, holding his wine, and looking at the nocturnal vista. Claire wondered if he’d heard her open the door. If he did, he didn’t turn around. Slowly, she approached and joined him at the window.

  “I apologize for the interruption.” She said, looking at the lights below.

  He turned toward her, looking down from above. “Do you now, Ms. Nichols?”

  Claire noted the change in his tone, more businesslike. “I do.” Perceiving the meaning of her last name, she confirmed, “You’re correct, I am Ms. Nichols, not Mrs. Rawlings.” She considered adding, “your doing, not mine.” However, she didn’t; she’d baited him enough.

  Momentarily Tony stood, facing her, close enough to touch, yet, a million miles apart. Making no attempt to lessen the expanse, he replied, “I’m sure you are busy. If I were him, I’d be on a jet right now. According to my calculations, that gives us about ninety minutes to discuss what I came to discuss.”

  Claire considered enlightenin
g Tony on the difference between the two of them, explaining Harry wouldn’t be arriving because she asked him not to. She could talk about trust and communication. Instead she walked toward the sitting area, refilled her glass, sat down compliantly, and asked, “What do you want to discuss?”

  “You will discontinue your discussions with Meredith Banks and any further plans you’ve entertained regarding speaking with the media.” It was a very poorly worded plea, sounding more like a mandate.

  She sat back against the chair and smiled, “Will I now?”

  There was no hint of humor in his reply, “Don’t push me. I’m tired and suddenly not in the mood.”

  Inwardly she smirked, knowing Harry’s call upset him. With each such instance her sense of empowerment grew. “Well, I’d like to discuss something else.”

  “I would like to stay on topic.”

  “Then it seems we’re at an impasse. Perhaps you should go. We can continue this, another day, or not.”

  “You’re not changing the subject. The non-disclosure of our relationship is nonnegotiable.”

  “I don’t recall signing anything, well, other than a blank napkin. We didn’t even have a prenuptial agreement. So I have no legal restraints on what I can and cannot disclose.”

  Tony stepped closer, “Legal, no. What about ethical or moral?”

  “Did those concerns come into play during your acquisition or our relationship?”

  “I have tried to explain, not at first, but they did.”

  “Tony, I’m tired, too. I don’t have the energy to figure out your puzzles. I don’t plan on disclosing anything about your true identity to the media, if that’s part of your concern. I have however, learned of many misconceptions regarding me during our relationship. I do plan on correcting those errors.”

  “Why?”

  She sat straighter and used the words he’d said to her, “Because I can.” His micro-expression revealed his displeasure, “The world wants to know, and I’m willing to disclose.”

  “It won’t happen.” He sat his glass on the table and leaned forward. “I came here to emphasize this is a waste of your time. Currently my legal team is working diligently to stop any information regarding our marriage or relationship from public media. If anything appears on the internet or anywhere else, a civil suit will immediately follow, against you, Meredith, and the offending sites.”

  Claire allowed the glass to linger on her lip and watched as Tony laid the gauntlet at her feet. Finally she spoke, “Well, at least this time you have the nerve to deliver the ultimatum in person, instead of sending Brent.”

  The reference to Claire’s prison visit caused Tony to straighten his stance. “I was angry about the plea.”

  “You’ve made your point, now it’s my turn.”

  Tony smirked, “Yes, I recall, you did like your turn.”

  She ignored his implication and went on with her request, “I want a promise -- from you.”

  “What promise do you want from me?”

  “I want a guarantee the people in my life, the associates, and friends I’ve acquired are not in harm’s way.”

  “My Claire, you give me too much credit. I’m a businessman. I don’t have the ability to cause harm to anyone much less those associated with you.”

  This time Claire straightened, “Simon, John... do these names mean anything to you? How about my parents, your parents? Are there more? I can’t seem to process right now.”

  “I do not take responsibility for that entire list. And explain exactly what you’re requesting.”

  “Actually, I don’t believe I’m requesting anything. I’m saying, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if anything happens to me, my friends or associates, my story and the truth behind our relationship will be public. I will continue to work on the articles and stop production before everything is public. However, if anything happens to me or my friends, everything will be public knowledge. You’re welcome to do damage control but only be after the initial public response has been made and broadcast globally. As you know, once a perception is set, it’s difficult to change.”

  Tony’s grip on the stem of the wine glass intensified as he changed the subject, “I don’t want you with anyone else. You’re mine and have been for a very long time.”

  Although his words sent a shiver down her spine, Claire managed to respond incredulously, “That isn’t your choice. You sent me away!”

  “No. You left, you drove out of our garage.” His words were stifled by his clenched jaws.

  Claire stood, “Tony, I’m done with this conversation. I’m tired; however, I have a few other demands.” She didn’t wait for him to acknowledge, but continued, “John is out of jail. I want his law license reinstated. You took it away, don’t deny it. Now, bring it back. I will consider that proof of you commitment to this agreement.”

  “I never liked him.”

  “I’m pretty sure the feeling is and always has been mutual. Nonetheless, he never deserved what you did to him. By the way, do you know who sent me the box?”

  Tony stood, walked toward the door, but stopped and faced her, “Yes,” his voice confident, “my dear, the information isn’t known by many. My list of candidates was quite limited. It didn’t take long to confirm my theory.”

  She followed him toward the door. Looking up at his face she asked, “Who?”

  “Good bye Claire, for now. May I have your hand?”

  She spied him suspiciously, “Why?”

  He didn’t answer; instead he held out his hand and waited. Reluctantly, she placed her right hand in his upturned palm. Tony bowed and touched his lips to her knuckles. While the warmth radiated up her arm, he turned her hand over. “Close your eyes.”

  Weakened by his strong yet benign command, she obeyed.

  “Keep them shut,” he whispered. She nodded as he reached into the pocket of his slacks, brought out a white gold chain with a pearl upon a white gold cross and placed it in her upward palm. Next, he closed her fingers around the delicate necklace and squeezed her hand. “My sign of commitment -- end this with Meredith.” He kissed her closed fingers and opened the door.

  By the time she saw her grandmother’s necklace lying innocently in her hand, the scene blurred. Tears overflowed her lids and cascaded down her cheeks. She turned to Tony, but he was gone.

  Claire’s trembling fingers fumbled with the small clasp. With intense concentration she managed to put the delicate chain around her neck and secure the fastening. Hastily, she ran to the mirror and watched the small white gold cross with the large pearl, move up and down upon her chest, accelerated by her now rapid heartbeat.

  With time, her eyes moved from the necklace to her own face. The concentration and determination from before were gone. Her cheeks were now blotchy and smeared with mascara.

  The stress of her reunion with Meredith -- the unexpected meeting with Tony -- complete with multiple confrontations -- and now the reality of her grandmother’s necklace sucked any remaining strength from her core. Claire collapsed onto the bed, stared up at the ceiling, and fought the urge to cry. She couldn’t stop the tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. But the sobs that screamed for release from the confines of her chest -- those she worked to contain.

  Cradling the large soft pillow, now damp with tears, Claire curled into the fetal position, and closed her eyes. The combination of stress and emotion brought back her once familiar aching head. In time, slumber surrounded her, isolated her, and comforted her, creating a safe haven from the storms continually confronting her life.

  The sound of pounding interrupted her peaceful bliss. She fought the disorientation associated with waking suddenly in an unfamiliar place. Groggily she saw the clock: 3:17 and forged toward the door of the suite, toward the source of the pounding. Nearing the large double doors she heard a key in the lock and his panicked voice, “Claire, Claire, are you in there?”

  O, shit, I didn’t call Harry.

  Claire ran toward the doors. She’d us
ed the chain lock; their key couldn’t open the door completely. Just before her destination, she glanced at the large mirror near the entry, seeing her clothes from yesterday. The silk blouse, now untucked, hung wrinkled above her rumpled linen slacks. Dark black circles of melted mascara graced the underside of her swollen, red eyes. She mindlessly tried to smooth her messed hair, as if that would help her sad appearance. Quickly she called to the man on the other side of the door and fumbled with the chain. “Please wait, just a minute.” Sliding the chain and pulling the freed door inward, Claire gasped at Harry, two men dressed in the hotel’s signature burgundy, and a woman in a San Diego police uniform.

  She stood in shock at the crowd before her.

  Any anger she’d heard in Harry’s voice through the door evaporated as he took in her appearance. “Are you all right?”

  Before she could respond, he hugged her shoulders, and pulled her into his embrace. She didn’t resist, melting against his chest. Unconsciously, she inhaled his masculine scent as her cheek felt the rhythmic beat of his rapidly pumping heart.

  “Are you alone?” Claire nodded. “Did he hurt you?” She shook her head.

  Harry turned to the others, “You may go.” Speaking to the woman in uniform he said, “We’ll let you know tomorrow if there’re any charges.”

  Harry’s unwavering embrace impeded her view, yet Claire struggled to free herself and turn toward the police officer, “There are no charges.” Looking up Harry’s soft blue eyes, she continued, “I’m sorry. I just fell asleep.” Looking back to the woman in blue, she said, “Thank you for your time. I’m sorry for any misunderstanding, but there are no charges.” Harry pulled her back into his embrace. She felt his heart slowing to a steady rhythm. "I'm sorry I worried you.” She mumbled as they walked into her suite.

  The comforting tone of his voice dwindled and agitation prevailed, “You said you’d call. You promised.”

  She stepped back from his touch, suddenly defensive. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I was upset when Tony left. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just did.”