Convicted (Consequences)

by Romig, Aleatha

  When Claire woke in the morning, her world was still dark. As her eyelids fluttered and her lashes grazed the satin, she realized the darkness was her sleeping mask. Claire removed it from her eyes and reached toward Tony’s empty place in bed. It was already after 9:00 AM, and he was gone, probably off somewhere exploring the island or with Francis. Thankful for the extra sleep the mask brought, Claire thought pensively about the night before, and warm memories filled her thoughts. When she thought about falling asleep, she realized that she hadn’t been wearing the sleep mask. Shaking her head ever so slightly, a smile came to her lips. That’s another point for Tony! Perhaps soon she could even that score.

  “I understand, sir,” Agent Baldwin said into his phone.

  “Yes, Deputy Director, I’ll be back in San Francisco tomorrow evening.”

  “Thank you, goodbye.”

  Harry hit the DISCONNECT button and collapsed into the hotel chair. The conversation wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined. Although he’d lost track of both Claire and Rawlings, through the use of digital face recognition, they’d been identified at different times at airports in Papau, New Guinea. Claire was identified at the Baimuru Airport, whereas Rawlings was identified at the Daru Airport.

  It’s believed they are staying somewhere in the South Pacific—recognizably, this was a broad generalization. The area in question contained thousands of islands of varying sizes. Many of the island nations in this region rely heavily on tourism and have been known to be very welcoming and accommodating to wealthy residents. As a rule—questions were rarely asked.

  Since they were no longer in Europe, Agent Baldwin was ordered to return to the field office in San Francisco. Although he didn’t mention it on the phone call, Harry vowed to share his research with SAC Williams or anyone who’d listen. He needed FBI resources to request blood samples from Simon Johnson and Jordon Nichols. Harry wasn’t even sure whether the samples would be available. If nothing else, he wanted to access the toxicology reports that were available.

  If he couldn’t locate Claire and Rawlings, then his research would be his number one priority. Writing a note, Harry pondered, does the presence of actaea pachypodac create any unusual markers visible during toxicology screenings? Since most agencies don’t routinely test for it, maybe there was something else that could identify its presence. The fact it affected the heart—creating heart attack-like symptoms was too broad.

  Harry had a few hours before he needed to get to the airport. While he waited, he reviewed medical histories. First, he looked at the known victims:

  Nathaniel Rawls—died in 1989, at the age sixty-four. Interestingly, he died with only two months remaining on his reduced sentence. He had a history of high blood pressure, depression, vitamin deficiency, recreational alcohol usage, and nicotine dependence. He was being medicated for the high blood pressure and depression. According to the records, when he died, he still smoked a half of a pack a day. It was fair to assume his death was heart related until actaea pachypodac was positively identified in his blood.

  Agent Sherman Nichols—died in 1997, at the age of seventy-three. He also had a history of high blood pressure. In 1995 he had a heart catherization resulting in the placement of two coronary stents. He was medicated for high blood pressure and high cholesterol—past history nicotine dependence. Again, it would be fair to assume cause of death to include heart disease—again actaea pachypodac was positively identified in his blood.

  Anthony Rawlings / Anton Rawls—survived poisoning, January 2012, at the age of forty-six. Wife, Claire Nichols Rawlings, pled no contest to charge of attempted murder. Governor Bosley extended a pardon which absolved Claire (Rawlings) Nichols of guilt. The state of Iowa hasn’t revisited the case due to Mr. Rawlings’ insistence. Also at the time of his poisoning, Mr. Rawlings had a clear medical history. His only medication was vitamins, recreational use of alcohol, and no history of smoking—family history would be the only connection to heart-related problems leading to his possible death. Upon arrival at the hospital actaea pachypodac was positively identified in his blood.

  Harry also reviewed his list of other possible victims:

  Samuel and Amanda Rawls—COD gunshot wounds. The ballistics reports contradicted the released hypothesis of murder/suicide. The gunshot wounds were quite obviously not self-inflicted on either victim. They died in 1989 at the age of forty-five and forty-four. As much as Harry wanted to pin this on Rawlings—since they had his statement and the police reports verified his presence at the home the night of the murder—he couldn’t forget his discussion with Patrick Chester. It was clear that, during that discussion, Chester was being paid by someone to keep quiet about a woman—a woman in a blue Honda.

  Jordon and Shirley Nichols—COD head trauma related to automobile crash. They died in 2004 at the age of fifty and forty-nine. Indiana State Police reports indicated the Nichols’ car was structurally sound. The crash was ruled accidental.

  Simon Johnson—COD combustion, related to the crash and fire of a Cessna aircraft. He died in 2011 at the age of twenty-eight. NTSB reports indicated plane was structurally sound. To Harry—that confirmed that poison was indeed the cause of death, but he needed proof.

  Although he couldn’t be sure about Tony’s parents, Harry’s gut told him the other deaths could all be traced to Rawlings. As he was about to leave for the airport, Harry scribbled another note, Check New Jersey, 1989, car registrations for blue Hondas. He stuffed the note into his laptop bag and headed to the airport.

  The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.

  —Victor Hugo

  Claire loved lunch time. Despite Tony’s request for her to better understand the whole employer/employee relationship, she refused to give up eating with Madeline and Francis. Breakfast was a free for all—Madeline and Francis had things they wanted to accomplish early in the day. The intense sun and heat made early morning and late evening the best times of the day to do labor. Tony had always been a person to wake early. The fact he no longer had work to attend, or thousands of jobs under his reign of responsibility, didn’t change his internal clock. Claire, on the other hand, enjoyed her sleep. While everyone else on the island could be up and going at the break of dawn, 8:00 AM or 9:00 AM was a much more acceptable waking hour for her. It was true that years ago, on Tony’s estate, she constantly woke about 8:00 AM. In her opinion, the difference was the seventeen extra pounds resting on her bladder. These days, she woke every two to three hours. Sleeping until 9:00 AM gave her the same total sum of sleep. It made perfect sense, and besides, no one complained.

  The midday meal was a great time for everyone to connect. Claire knew it was a whole new world for Tony. In private, while he voiced his approval of Madeline and Francis, he still maintained his concerns regarding Claire’s ability to preserve the appropriate employer status. Claire didn’t care. She explained how instrumental Madeline and Francis had been to her initial adjustment, and they all knew—it was her decision. As long as she wanted it—they would all continue to eat their midday meal together.

  The day after Tony’s revelation, as their lunch was about to conclude, Claire asked Francis a question, “I remember you telling me you’re ordained. Does that mean you can legally marry two people?”

  Claire ignored Tony’s wide-eyed micro expression as Francis answered, “Oui, Madame el, here in this island nation I am, as you say—licensed.”

  She clarified, “What does that mean in the United States? Would we still be married?”

  “Oui, after you file for your license.”

  Tony couldn’t remain silent any longer. “Claire, my offer still stands, but you had things you wanted to discuss, so perhaps we should...”

  Claire reached into the pocket of the lace cover up. Her fingers found an offering that only he would recognize. She gathered it into her fist, and extended her closed fist to Tony. “I have something for you.”

 
His eyebrows knit together in question as he trepidatiously opened his hand. Although there were very few secrets on a private island, as Claire released the offering with one hand, she closed his fingers around it with her other. In a low voice and with a smile that radiated to her emerald green eyes, she whispered, “I trust you.”

  Tony nonchalantly glanced into his hand. Claire wasn’t the only one to see the spark in his dark chocolate eyes.

  “Monsieur, this is your wish?” Madeline’s question pulled Tony’s gaze away from Claire’s.

  “Oui, Madeline—it is my wish. I wanted to be sure it was Claire’s.”

  Straightening her neck, Claire said, “Well, just so we’re all clear—I’m not the one who filed for divorce.” Tony momentarily bowed his head. What could he say? Before he returned his gaze to Claire, she worried that she’d said something she shouldn’t.

  Her concern melted with his upturned lips and evaporated into nothingness with his words. “I admit it wasn’t the first mistake I’ve ever made; however, it is the one I regret the most.”

  “Tonight?” Madeline asked as her volume increased. “May we have the wedding tonight?”

  Claire giggled. “Tonight is very fast. I don’t have a dress—”

  Madeline interjected, “Madame el, a wedding isn’t about a dress. A wedding is about the unification of two souls”—she paused—“In your case—the reunification.”

  Tony corrected, “Reconciliation.”

  Claire reached for his hand. “I believe that began a while ago—at a gala—in a faraway land.”

  “I believe it happened before that,” Tony said. “Perhaps in a dream?”

  Claire couldn’t help but smile. She knew from experience it radiated to her green eyes.

  It was Francis who brought the two of them back from their personal memories. “I’ll go into town right away. Your marriage will be legal here, once you sign. As for legalizing it in the U.S., I’ll help you.”

  It was enough for Claire. She scooted her chair by Tony’s and laid her head against his shoulder. Soon after, they were alone as Madeline and Francis had much to accomplish to fulfill Claire’s request. It was then that Tony handed Claire back her sleeping mask and asked, “What happened? Why are you suddenly in a rush?”

  “Are you complaining?”

  He placed his hand on her leg. “No—concerned.”

  Claire lifted her eyebrows. Tony sighed and took her hand. “Come with me.”

  She didn’t question; instead, she willingly followed Tony out to a lounge chair in a shady, yet breezy part of the lanai. “First,” he said, “you need to put your feet up. Second, we need to talk.”

  Claire obediently sat, laying her legs out in front of her. When Tony perched himself on the edge of her chair, Claire reached forward, framed his face with her petite hands, and brought his lips to hers. So many things can be said through a kiss. Some people kiss hello or goodbye. A kiss can be happy, sad, passionate, or regretful. The emotion Claire tried to convey was forgiveness. When their lips parted and their eyes met, Claire replied, “I love you. There are probably millions of reasons why I shouldn’t—but I do. I’ve been without you”—she blushed—“since my dream, and I don’t like it. I’ve felt every possible emotion while with you. You asked me to be Mrs. Rawlings—again—you said our child isn’t a Nichols or a Rawls—but a Rawlings”—she straightened her neck and squared her shoulders—“I want that.”

  “I want that too.” Taking her hands in his, Tony continued, “However, you need to know what you’re signing.”

  “What I’m signing?”

  He smirked. “Do you think Madeline has any paper napkins?”

  “I doubt it—is cloth more legally binding?”

  He quickly kissed her lips. “There it is again.”

  “Oh, you love it!”

  “I do. I love your smart mouth, and more importantly, I love you. Just think about how upset you were last night. My dear, our discussion is an iceberg. That was only the tip.”

  “Don’t you understand why I handed you my sleep mask?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Because you wanted to have kinky-sex.”

  Claire shook her head, trying to hide her blushed cheeks. “No, last night you asked me if I trusted you. Again, there are probably millions of reasons to say no—”

  Tony sat straighter as his tone deepened. “I believe there are reasons, but my dear, I’d appreciate it if you discontinue the use of the modifier—one million. You have misjudged the size of the iceberg.”

  “Actually, I don’t recall using the modifier—one.”

  His finger traced her lips as they formed a smug smile. “So many better uses of that beautiful mouth than to continually spurt out smart comments.”

  “Tony, last night I felt like too much was riding on our conversation.” When he started to speak, she touched his lips so that he wouldn’t interrupt. “What you tell me—and I do need to know—won’t change the fact I want my family together. I want to be your wife again”—Claire felt the tears begin to build—“I want it more than I wanted it in December of 2010.”

  Tony gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “In 2010, I didn’t realize what a truly amazing wife I was getting. I never appreciated her for who she truly was.” He lifted Claire’s left hand and touched his lips to it. “This time—I know that I’m the luckiest man in the world. That’s why I want you to enter this marriage with your eyes open.”

  “Tony, will you do anything for me?”

  “Anything within my power.”

  “Today, for lunch, I had water to drink, but I really wanted iced tea. Can you get me iced tea for today’s lunch?”

  He looked at her quizzically. “For today’s lunch? No, but I can get you some tea now, if you’d like.”

  “Why can’t you get it for me for today’s lunch?”

  “Claire, you aren’t making any sense, lunch is over...” A smile of recognition came to his face. Claire saw it in the depth of his deep brown eyes.

  “Yes—yes it is,” she said. “All you can do is try to fulfill my desires for the future. We can’t change the past, and even if we could, I’m not sure it should be changed—it brought us here now. I’m confident that I won’t like all the answers I get from you. That doesn’t change that I want them and deserve them, but to say that our entire future is riding on them—was too much pressure. That’s why I was so upset last night. It freaked me out so much that you’d been watching me for so long that I missed the part about you saying that I’ve had possession of your heart since before I knew you.”

  “You have, and as a man of my word, when you’re ready to know the answers to your questions—I’ll be honest with you. Most importantly, you and our child will always be my number one concern. You’ve changed me in ways I didn’t know I could be changed. Your happiness and well-being are my top priorities. If you’re sure of what you’re getting yourself into, I will spend the rest of my life atoning for my sins against you and against others. I want my name to be something you’re proud to carry.”

  Claire couldn’t control the tears any more than she could change the past. From the man with the dark eyes, in the suite, on his estate, to the man with his head resting on their child was undoubtedly a change. Was she responsible, or was it life? After all, she wasn’t the same woman who stood in the blue dress and blue heels trembling in fear. Was that Tony’s doing, or was it life? The man with the eyes devoid of color and emotion wouldn’t have wanted the woman Claire was today, and the woman in the blue dress wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with the man caressing his unborn child. So, to say they changed each other may be incorrect, yet to say they had changed—was an understatement.

  Standing in the glow of the setting sun with her toes in the sand, Claire gazed lovingly into the deepest, darkest eyes. The dark no longer proclaimed anger. The darkness from years ago was different—void, or more accurately—devoid—without. At that time, his eyes were windows to a tormented core whose
only outlet was rage and cruelty, but the dark brown that returned her gaze today wasn’t empty. It reeled with emotions that the void eyes wouldn’t have understood. The new darkness swirled with an all-consuming passion that could ignite Claire in impossible ways with a single glance. They churned with love and adoration, pride and understanding, sorrow and regret. These eyes drank her in, claimed her, and fulfilled her every desire. They were the windows to a man—who once upon a time, signed a napkin that he knew was a contract. As an esteemed businessman, he forgot one very important rule—he forgot to read the fine print. It wasn’t an acquisition to own another person as he’d previously assumed. It was an agreement to acquire a soul.

  The acquisition was long and painful. There were contract disputes and labor issues, but in the end, the soul found residence—within the businessman. No longer were the rules clear or was the world black and white. Now, color prevailed—especially shades of green.

  Francis’ rich, deep voice echoed into the breeze. Claire remembered the day in 2010 when she was asked the same question: do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part? Her answer hadn’t changed. Despite the traumas and her desire to forfeit that promise made three years ago, Claire suspected that in her heart, she never did. This ceremony was a reaffirmation of that prior commitment and a promise of a better relationship. With her long white sundress blowing around her legs—perhaps she was subconsciously planning this when she ordered her clothes—Claire inhaled without effort. The salty breeze penetrated deep into her lungs as the sensation of suffocation was gone.

  While Francis prayed, Claire did too. It was a prayer of praise and gratitude. She admitted to disliking parts of the journey, but the destination was true paradise. As Francis announced their union, Claire and Tony kissed. When he backed away, she saw his devilish grin and heard him whisper, “Mrs. Rawlings, you are mine once again.”