Redeeming Claire

by Cynthia Rutledge

  Tony waved her silent, trying to comprehend what he’d just heard.

  “The one guy was in his underwear?” His voice sounded faraway even to his own ears. Why he continued to grill the deputy for details, Tony wasn’t sure. Maybe because he still couldn’t believe Claire would be a part of anything like this.

  “Yes, sir.” The deputy’s lips quirked upward, and Tony wanted to throttle him. “And it didn’t seem to bother him. Jay Nordstrom may have grown up around here, but he’s a California boy now. That’s a whole different world.”

  “Excuse me,” Tony interrupted and tried to put the pieces of the confusing puzzle together in his suddenly numb brain. “Are you saying the guy in his underwear was a Nordstrom?”

  “Jay’s the oldest son,” Mrs. Sandy said. “He’s the one that’s the big-time model in L.A.”

  Now he remembered. Every woman’s dream man.

  Tony tried to still the pain welling up in him.

  “I thought I mentioned that,” Mark said. “It was just the three of them, the two Nordstrom boys and your fiancée.”

  My fiancée.

  A picture of Claire playing strip poker with her dream man while he’d sat for hours in that restaurant waiting and worrying flashed before him.

  What could have made her do it? Had she decided their relationship would be over soon and it was time to move on to greener pastures? Maybe it was best after all that he hadn’t confessed his feelings and asked her to marry him.

  How could he have been so wrong? It was bad enough she’d discredited herself in Harold’s eyes, but he’d never thought she’d do anything to hurt him. Obviously he’d been wrong to believe she’d changed. And he’d been foolish to think she loved him. He was lucky to find out the truth.

  Tony swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.

  The trouble was, he didn’t feel lucky. Not at all.

  Claire stopped short. The house was ablaze with lights. In the driveway, next to Tony’s Jeep, sat a silver Cadillac she vaguely remembered. Down the street a black and white cruiser turned the corner and disappeared.

  Ripples of panic turned her skin to gooseflesh. Why would Officer Crouse stop at the house? She hadn’t broken any laws, so he couldn’t have come about that. Maybe he hadn’t come for her. Maybe he’d found out that April had been at the Nordstrom farm.

  Claire drew a deep, shuddering breath. April had so much going for her. The girl didn’t need this kind of trouble. Going with Wayne had just been a foolish mistake. She certainly didn’t deserve to pay for it with a juvenile record. And, if Claire had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t.

  She straightened her shoulders and, forgetting everything but her desire to save the girl, headed up the stairs. She jolted to a stop. Pain shot up her leg, and her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t dare look down. Her ankle had started to swell the minute she’d picked herself up after tripping over that dog, and she didn’t even want to know what it looked like now.

  It had taken her three times as long as it should to make her way home, and if she hadn’t found a stick to use as a crutch she’d still be walking.

  Now if she could just make it up three more steps. She took a deep breath, clenched her teeth and concentrated on the stairs. First one foot and then the other, until finally she reached the porch. Another few feet and she stood at the door.

  It was slightly ajar, and through the screen she could hear Tony’s rich baritone mingling with other voices.

  Her heart sank. She’d hoped to catch him alone. Telling him wouldn’t be easy, but once she explained, she knew he’d understand.

  Claire pushed her doubts aside and lifted her chin. God had given her a spirit of power, not of fear. That Bible verse she’d looked up just yesterday seemed almost prophetic.

  She shoved the door open. “Anyone home?”

  The conversation in the other room stilled.

  “We’re in the living room, Claire,” Mrs. Sandy called, an odd note in her voice.

  Claire hobbled across the hardwood floor, suddenly missing the walking stick she’d discarded at the edge of the driveway. But she was twenty-eight, not eighty, and a cane was still a cane.

  Pausing in front of the beveled mirror, Claire grimaced at her perspiration-soaked hairline and the streak of dirt across one cheek. She rubbed off the dirt with her fingers and impulsively unclasped her barrette and let the hair fall loose to her shoulders. She ran her hand through it, fluffing the dark strands with her fingers.

  She grimaced at her reflection. If only she had time to run upstairs for some quick repair work. Even a dab of lipstick and a touch of powder could do wonders. Nothing gave her more confidence than knowing she looked her best. But at the rate she was walking she’d really be an old woman before she’d make it back.

  “Claire, what’s—” Mrs. Sandy appeared in the doorway, her carefully controlled expression vanishing at the sight of Claire’s ankle. “Oh, my dear. What happened?”

  Claire’s smile wobbled at Mrs. Sandy’s motherly concern. “I fell.”

  All of a sudden, tears pushed against her lids, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse into the woman’s arms.

  But she wasn’t a schoolgirl and Mrs. Sandy couldn’t begin to make everything better. Only Claire could do that. But not if she dissolved in a puddle of tears like a big baby.

  She blinked rapidly and swallowed the sob in her throat.

  “Oh, honey.” Mrs. Sandy looked frantically around the foyer before pulling a settee across the room and helping Claire to sit.

  “Don’t move a muscle.” Mrs. Sandy’s gaze shifted to the doorway leading to the living room. “Tony. Harold. I need your help.”

  Of course. It was Harold’s Fleetwood in the driveway. She’d forgotten this was Mrs. Sandy’s big date night.

  In an instant the two men stood in the doorway. Still dressed in the dark suit and tie he’d worn for the evening out, Tony looked incredibly handsome. And so strong. So dependable.

  Claire smiled.

  So angry.

  Her smile faded.

  Tony leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest, and stared, a stony expression on his face.

  Mrs. Sandy frowned. “Tony, you’re not going to do her much good way over there.” Her tone was brusque. “Claire’s ankle is hurt and Harold’s back isn’t the best. You’ll need to carry your fiancée into the living room.”

  Was it only Claire’s imagination or did Mrs. Sandy put an extra emphasis on your fiancée?

  Claire shifted uneasily. She’d thought Tony might be a little irritated. Maybe even a tad bit angry. But it was the pain in his dark eyes that took her by surprise.

  “Well, are you going to stand there all day?” Mrs. Sandy said.

  Tony straightened and sauntered across the room. When he bent over, Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne, the one he wore for special occasions. She tilted her head and whispered softly against his ear. “There’s so much I need to tell you.”

  “No kidding.” Tony didn’t even try to keep his voice down.

  She stiffened, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

  It was a relief when he set her in the overstuffed chair.

  Mrs. Sandy propped Claire’s foot on the ottoman. Harold fetched an ice bag from the kitchen, and the landlady wrapped it carefully around the swollen ankle.

  Tony stood aside, facing the fireplace, his back to her.

  The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. A shiver of fear coursed up Claire’s spine. This was worse than she’d imagined.

  Finally Harold spoke. “I probably should be going.”

  “Sit down, Harold,” Tony said in a voice she’d never heard before. “Claire wants to tell us about her evening.”

  “I don’t think Harold would be interested.” Claire met Tony’s firm gaze with an equally direct one of her own. She knew Harold had been instrumental in helping Tony get his job, but
she certainly had no intention of discussing this matter in front of him. Or in front of Mrs. Sandy, for that matter. “This is between you and me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” There was no gentleness in the endearment. “It stopped being between you and me when the deputy stopped by. He told us all about your little adventure.”

  “I thought I saw his car.” Claire stalled for time. She cast a quick glance around the room. “Where’s April?”

  “In bed.” Mrs. Sandy shook her head. “She must have been all tuckered out. I can’t remember the last time she went to bed before ten.”

  “There’s no need for her to know about this,” Tony said sharply.

  “As if I’d want to drag her into it anyway.” Claire couldn’t keep from bristling at his tone.

  “You’re the one who brought her up.”

  I just wanted to make sure she hadn’t had a run-in with the deputy.

  Claire wanted to tell him if he’d just listen, it would all make sense. But then she realized she couldn’t explain what had happened in front of April’s mother.

  “Is it true?” Tony said. “You were playing strip poker?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “What were you doing there in the first place?” The muscle in Tony’s jaw clenched tight.

  “I went to help a friend.” That much at least she could admit.

  “Which one was your friend?” Tony said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Wayne or his brother?”

  “Neither.” Claire lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on. “She left.”

  “Who was she? What’s her name?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t say.”

  “How convenient.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I understand all too well.” Tony shook his head in disgust. “You were having so much fun with two half-naked men that you stayed after this mysterious so-called ‘friend’ of yours left. Is that the way it was?”

  “Yes…I mean no.” Claire raked her fingers through her hair. Suddenly nothing made sense. “Believe me. It’s not the way it sounds.”

  “Believe what?” Tony’s chin jutted out. “I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe that I was stupid for thinking you could actually be happy in a small town with a minister. I believe that when you saw the opportunity for a little fun—granted, not much—you had to take it because life here is not exciting enough for you.”

  Claire stared at Tony and wondered if she’d ever really known him. Granted, his pride had been hurt, but was there ever an excuse not to listen to someone you love?

  Unless he doesn’t love you.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Was that what this was about? An excuse? An act? A perfect way to end their fake engagement?

  His accusing gaze was riveted on her, and she searched his eyes, looking for even the slightest hint of affection…of love. She found only burning, reproachful eyes.

  It all made sense now. But why hadn’t he told her this was coming? Prepared her?

  Suddenly she was furious. Furious at him. And furious at her vulnerability where he was concerned. For two cents she’d walk out the door and never look back.

  But however tempting the thought, Claire couldn’t do it. The bottom line was, she owed him. When she’d needed him he’d come through. Regardless of her feelings, she could do no less for him.

  She took a deep breath and turned to Harold. “Mr. Clarke. What kind of job do you think Tony’s been doing?”

  The man glanced at Tony before shifting his gaze to Claire. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Claire, this isn’t about me.”

  Claire waved Tony silent. “I mean, how would you rate him as a minister? Excellent? Good? Fair? Poor?”

  “Excellent.” Harold’s smile told her he was more than willing to change the topic of conversation.

  “I imagine you’d like to keep him around awhile?”

  “He’s got a job here as long as he wants.”

  Thank You, God.

  Claire pretended to adjust the ice bag around her ankle. “I know you were concerned when he first came that he wasn’t married. But I think you’d have to agree he’s done well in spite of that fact.”

  “Yes, he has.” A puzzled expression blanketed Harold’s features. “But I guess I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “Neither am I.” Tony’s voice was tight with strain.

  Only Mrs. Sandy seemed to understand. Her pleading look begged Claire not to take the next step.

  Claire moved the ice bag from her ankle and lifted her foot off the ottoman. She clenched her jaw and stood, pain shooting up her leg. Shifting her weight to her other foot, she rested one hand against the top of the chair for support.

  “What I’m getting at is that Tony’s a great minister, whether he’s single or married. One that you’d like to keep.”

  Harold glanced at Tony and Mrs. Sandy before he nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Good.” Claire took a deep breath.

  She pulled the heavy diamond from her finger. Her heart clenched. She knew how to play her part. She could do a graceful exit scene. Heaven knows she’d done enough of them in the past.

  But never with someone she loved.

  Claire shoved the thought aside. It was pointless to love a man who didn’t love her back.

  “Heads up.” She tossed the ring in a high, arching lob.

  Tony caught it with ease. He stared at the gem. His brows furrowed. “What’s this about?”

  “It’s over.”

  “Over?” His stunned expression looked so believable, she almost didn’t continue. “Why?”

  She wanted to tell him not to play it so real. If he thought it made it easier, he was wrong.

  “Why?” Claire forced a careless shrug. She half walked, half hopped to the door, knowing she needed to be able to leave the room once she had said the words so no one could see the truth in her eyes. “Because I don’t love you.”

  She turned and headed down the hall. It was the hardest walk she’d ever taken. The pain in her ankle was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

  Tony stared in stunned disbelief at the ring in his hand. His worst nightmare had come true. She’d found something better and now she was moving on. Just as he thought. Just as he feared.

  “Tony, all couples argue.” Mrs. Sandy spoke softly. “I’m sure you two will make up.”

  “No, we won’t.” Tony shoved the ring into his pocket. Claire was a big-city girl, and despite his background, Tony was now very much a small-town guy. He’d been foolish to think she could love him and his way of life.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” His smile barely lifted his lips, and he knew that it looked forced, but it was the best he could do. “It’s been a long day.”

  Tony could feel their eyes follow him out of the room, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. If he turned, they’d see how he really felt. They’d encourage him to make up with Claire.

  The trouble was, they didn’t understand what he now understood all too well.

  Claire didn’t love him. And the worst of it was, he now realized she never had.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Claire sat alone at the dining room table and took a sip of her coffee. Her bags were packed and she was ready to go. More than ready to blow this town and never look back. Ready to quit hurting every time she caught a glimpse of Tony.

  The last two days had been pure torture. Though she’d deliberately tried to avoid him, she hadn’t been a hundred percent successful. The times she’d run into him in the halls had been awkward, to say the least.

  At least she hadn’t had much time to think. She’d offered to help Mrs. Sandy clean the house, and the woman was a demanding taskmaster. They’d scoured the already immaculate two-story from top to bottom in anticipation of the upcoming party.

  Mrs. Sandy had originally planned the event to be Claire and Tony’s wedding reception, but now it would simply
be a Fourth of July blast.

  Thankfully she’d be long gone by then. She’d gotten over being mad. She was sure Tony hadn’t deliberately set out to hurt her. But he had. And although the anger was gone, the pain remained.

  In the past, whenever she’d had a problem with someone she’d bring it to his or her attention in no uncertain terms. But with Tony, it was different. She simply couldn’t face him. And, no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop loving him. If she got too close, she feared he’d see it in her eyes.

  Pride was the only thing she had left. If he knew of her feelings, she’d be one of those pathetic creatures she’d always despised, a woman wearing her heart on her sleeve for a man who didn’t love her.

  Claire cringed and reminded herself it wouldn’t be a problem for long. She’d soon be far away from Millville. And Tony.

  Strange as it sounded, given the way they parted, she found herself looking forward to seeing her father. It was unfortunate he wouldn’t be home when she got there. According to his answering machine he was out of town until next week. She’d surprise him when he got back.

  She stared at her bare ring finger and realized her father probably wouldn’t be all that surprised to see her. After all, hadn’t he been the one who’d told her she was incapable of sustaining a relationship? That her self-centered personality would keep her from finding true happiness? Maybe this time he was right.

  But I didn’t have a choice.

  She’d done everything expected of her. She’d fulfilled her part of the bargain and she’d changed in the process. Even she could see she’d become a much better person and a far cry from the self-centered, spoiled brat she’d been when she’d arrived in Millville. And it still hadn’t worked out.

  Claire closed her eyes. Complete and utter misery washed over her.

  Dear God, I don’t pretend to understand Your will and I know I’m going to have to trust You on this one. I thought Tony and I made a great team, but I guess You know best. I do have one request. It may sound petty, but when You pick a wife for Tony, could You just not let her be Rachel? I know she’s really involved with Your ministry and she’s probably a good person, but she’s not the type of woman he needs. If You could just trust me on this one, I’ll be forever grateful. Amen.