He could return her to her crib and climb back into bed with Claire, but, instead, Tony continued to rock. The silver rays of moonlight through the open doors to the lanai illuminated their bed, allowing him to watch his sleeping wife. Nichol’s feeding schedule had yet to work itself out, and Claire was beyond exhausted. It seemed that their daughter had a ravenous hunger, one that perhaps surpassed her mother’s before Nichol was born.
A grin materialized as Tony remembered Claire eating for two. With Nichol present, and demanding to eat every two to three hours, he understood why Claire had been so hungry. Loosening the pink blanket, Tony reached for Nichol’s hand. Her little fingers grasped one of his and he gently caressed her soft skin. As the scent of baby lotion filled his senses, Tony realized that in a little over two weeks, Nichol had infiltrated every part of their lives.
There were chairs that rocked and swayed. They called them swings, but to Tony they were more like mechanical seats that played lullabies or made white noise, depending upon the button pushed. He didn’t care how many swings or cradles Nichol had: he’d rather hold her safely in his arms. Although Claire claimed he was spoiling their daughter, he’d caught her doing the same thing more than once.
Everyone on the island was smitten and held captive by the beautiful brunette in Tony’s arms. Francis and Madeline were more like doting grandparents than employees. Though they never had children themselves, they were well-versed and experienced in anything baby. It was comforting to have the benefit of their knowledge when questions arose. Madeline had been the one to give Tony his first lesson in diapering. It was even before Claire met their daughter. Her encouraging words gave him the confidence to wrap the fabric around her tiny body. She seemed so small that Tony wasn’t sure he could do it.
“Oui, Monsieur, that is right. She will not break. Oui, lift her legs…”
Never had Tony envisioned taking instructions from a member of his staff, yet with each word, Tony willingly accepted the role of student.
One evening, when nothing seemed to settle Nichol’s cries, it was again Madeline who came to the rescue. At that moment, both Tony and Claire would have willingly allowed Madeline to do her magic, but that wasn’t what she did. Or perhaps it was. Yet the magic wasn’t performed on Nichol but instead on her parents—the magic to empower.
Although Francis and Madeline had retired to their home for the night, Tony wasn’t surprised that Madeline had heard Nichol’s protests through the still of the night. After all, Tony had spent hours walking her up and down the lanai, bouncing her gently as he’d been taught. Their daughter wasn’t having any of it—nothing would satisfy. Even nursing didn’t help. Nichol would begin to eat and then stop, crying and moving her face from side to side. With Claire’s sleep deprivation, she too was on the verge of tears—past the verge. Though she’d tried to hide it, Tony saw the evidence on her cheeks.
With Claire in the living room and Tony walking the length of the lanai, he was startled at the touch to his shoulder. Quickly turning around, he found Madeline.
“Monsieur, she is hungry? No?”
“No, I mean, I don’t know. Claire’s tried to feed her, but after a few suckles, she started crying again.”
“Madame el? Or Nichol?”
Tony grinned. “Both.”
“Bring her inside. The breeze is too strong.”
Willingly, he followed Madeline to the living room.
“Madame el, let me get you something to eat.”
Claire shook her head as her red, puffy eyes looked up from her lap. “No, Madeline, I’m not hungry. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Oui, you do. What does she want?”
“I don’t know,” Claire confessed. “Her diaper is clean. I’ve tried to feed her. She doesn’t want that. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can,” Madeline replied matter-of-factly. “When did she last eat?”
“It was before dinner.” Claire looked down. “I feel like I’m about to explode.”
Tony stood helplessly as his daughter continued to cry and his wife declared her insecurities. Truth be told, he felt the same way. “Maybe you should—” Tony began as he started to hand Nichol to Madeline.
“Oh, no,” Madeline said, waving him off. “She doesn’t need me. She needs you—both of you.” With that, Madeline disappeared into the kitchen, and Tony sat down next to Claire.
Although Nichol was still crying, it was Claire whom Tony wanted to help. He pulled her closer.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t…”
“Shhh,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. He wanted to lift her chin and see her beautiful eyes. It didn’t matter to him that they were red. All that mattered was that they were before him. “Look at me. I don’t have enough hands to lift your chin.”
Claire shook her head against his chest. “No, I look awful, and I’m a terrible mother.”
Tony released his embrace and tenderly pulled Claire’s chin upward. “You are and always will be the most beautiful woman in the world. Well…” He grinned. “…you do have a little competition now, but in my eyes you’ll always win.” Gently using his thumb, he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You’re an amazing mother. Remember we said we were going to learn this parenting thing together? Don’t you dare give up. My wife is not a quitter. You may remember that I have a rule about failure. We, my dear, won’t fail. We’re tired and our daughter has a stubborn streak.”
Claire’s weary eyes sparkled. “I wonder where she gets that.”
“Well, we could debate that all night, but I’d put my money on you.”
“Oh really, Mr. Rawlings. If you did, I believe I’d have even more of your fortune.”
“You can have whatever you want. It’s already yours.”
“Sleep…” Claire yawned. “…I want sleep.”
“All right, you can’t have that yet.” Tony glanced down to Nichol. Her cries were mere whimpers as she rooted against his chest.
Madeline entered the quieter living room with a sandwich and a glass of juice. “Madame el, this is for you. Eat and drink and then you will be ready to give Nichol what she needs.”
Claire nodded and took the glass as Madeline set the plate on the table beside her. After a long drink, she said, “Thank you, Madeline. I didn’t even realize I was thirsty.”
Tony slowly rocked Nichol while Claire ate. When she was done, Claire leaned back and unbuttoned her blouse. Handing their daughter to his wife, Tony’s gaze went from Claire’s eyes to her breast and back again.
Exhaling, Claire positioned Nichol and smiled a sly grin. “You’re incorrigible. Do you know that?”
“What?” Tony tried for his most innocent look. “What did I do?”
Before she could answer, they all stopped and stared at their contented baby girl. Nichol’s eyes closed as she eagerly nursed. The whole room held their breath, waiting for the next eruption of crying, but it didn’t occur, even whilst Claire burped Nichol and switched sides. Nichol didn’t complain. By the time she was satisfied, Madeline was gone. When Tony realized that they were alone, he moved closer and once again wrapped Claire’s shoulders in his embrace. “Do you think Madeline sprinkled some kind of fairy dust to calm Nichol down?”
“No, I think she calmed us down, which in turn calmed Nichol.”
“See, what did I say? You’re a great mother.”
Claire kissed his cheek. “And you’re a great father. I guess we can do this.”
“Together and one day at a time.”
Neither one mentioned Tony’s impending deal with the FBI. They didn’t want anything to upset them or Nichol as she finally rested contently in her mother’s arms.
Helping with the feedings, especially those in the middle of the night, was Tony’s part of together. Through trial and error, they learned that allowing Claire to rest when she could, eased some of her stress, which made Nichol more relaxed. Tony had never been one who needed a
lot of sleep, and without a doubt, he grew to love his alone time with their daughter. The fact that it helped both of his ladies to flourish was a mere bonus.
The doctor had been to the island the day before and acted very pleased with both Claire’s recovery and Nichol’s progress. Sometimes they forgot that she was born earlier than expected.
Nichol’s little face scrunched and her lips formed a silent O before her contented expression returned. Did babies dream? What could they possibly dream about? Her entire life consisted of eating, sleeping, and soiling her diaper. None of that seemed like the material of dreams, in Tony’s opinion. Closing his eyes and maintaining the chair’s movement, he contemplated his dream.
He was living it, and it was grander than any dream he’d ever imagined.
His envelope was full.
Chapter One
March 2014(Convicted Chapters 47, 48, & 49)
Tony
It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.
—Aristotle Onassis
IT HAS BEEN SAID that everyone gets to experience a moment: an instant when clouds part, fog clears, and the world makes sense. Whether that moment reveals the meaning of all life or merely the meaning to personal existence, during that second in time when heavenly beams of light reach down and illuminate the world, the one true matter of importance in one’s life is revealed.
Perhaps it was God’s way of opening one’s eyes, or perhaps it was fate’s way of twisting a knife. No matter the cause, for Anthony Rawlings that moment of clarity occurred in the midst of chaos. As icy water fell from the ceiling of his home office, as smoke billowed through the vents and down the corridors, and as voices of unseen faces clamored for attention, Tony’s world became crystal clear. The only true meaning in his life was his family: Claire and Nichol.
He’d told his wife to stay away from the estate. It hadn’t been debatable. He and Claire had discussed their shared need to keep Nichol safe—at any cost. However, admittedly during those discussions, Tony had yet to truly comprehend the depth of Catherine’s depravity. It wasn’t until he pushed his onetime confidant into a dissertation of confessions that Tony recognized her limitless boundaries and capacity for evil.
With that newfound knowledge of murders where Tony had thought fate intervened, and years of manipulation where he’d seen friendship, Tony knew that he never wanted his family near the woman he’d trusted for most of his life. For the first time since Nathaniel had uttered the words, they will pay, their children will pay, and their children’s children, everything was crystal clear. Tony finally understood his unwanted definition: he and Claire were both children of children. Nichol was doubly so. Later, he would reflect on how Claire had tried to explain it to him. Perhaps he hadn’t been ready to understand. Now he was.
It wasn’t until he saw the utter hatred in Catherine’s gray eyes that he felt Nathaniel’s words deep in his soul. How could he have trusted Catherine for so long? How could he have willingly placed Claire in her clutches? How didn’t he see what Catherine had seen all along?
One thing was obvious. Tony needed to keep his family safe and away from Catherine Marie London.
Unfortunately, the clarity that revealed itself on that March afternoon didn’t show Tony a safe and secure family. No, when his eyes were finally opened and he saw his lifelong friend as the monster she truly was—as a monster not only capable of killing his parents, but capable of killing his best friend—fate also showed him the two women in the entire world for whom he’d unquestionably, unequivocally, and unthinkingly lay down his life to save, and they needed him. Only moments earlier, he’d been searching the smoky hallways for Sophia Burke, until he heard Claire’s voice. For an instant he prayed that it was his imagination, but then he heard her again. Tony didn’t know why his wife was yelling; however, as he raced down the slippery marble floors toward his office, the why of her words wasn’t as important as the why of her presence. Why was she there? She was supposed to be safe with Courtney. They’d agreed upon that.
Opening the door to his office, Tony’s world clarified and collapsed. Terror like he’d never known filled his being when he realized that it wasn’t only his wife in the presence of Catherine—no, Claire had Nichol in her arms. Tony would have done anything to reverse time, put them back in paradise, and keep his family from this horror. His deep threatening voice stilled whatever Catherine had been saying. “My God, Claire! Why are you here? Get out, the house is on fire!”
Her taut expression morphed to relief as their eyes met. “Oh, you’re safe. I was so afraid.”
The rush of the sprinkler system muted the sound of panicked voices in the distance, while intensifying Nichol’s cries. From the safe harbor of her mother’s arms, their daughter’s pleas for attention grew above the commotion. Within seconds, Claire’s relief changed once again. It was fear. Tony had witnessed fear in her emerald eyes before and without warning he saw it again. Following her line of vision, Tony saw the small handgun Catherine now wielded in her steady grasp. The open drawer indicated that it had come from his desk. In a moment of utter confusion, Tony wondered why or how there could be a gun in his desk. He didn’t like guns, never had. That was why he hired security. There was no reason to own a gun unless you were willing to use it. However, at that moment, Tony knew he was more than willing to use it. He’d rather kill Catherine with his bare hands, but for speed’s sake, he’d gladly use the gun. He also knew that there was no way he’d allow Catherine to be the one to pull the trigger. He needed to get Claire and Nichol out of the house. “Get out; get Nichol out!” he screamed.
As Claire moved to obey, Catherine turned toward Tony with a malicious grin and asked, “Nichol? Nichol? You named a Rawls Nichol?”
Instead of answering, he used her distraction to knock the gun from her hand, sending it flying toward Claire and Nichol. When it landed near Claire’s feet, Tony commanded, “Claire, get the gun!”
Did his words refocus Catherine’s attention? He didn’t know; however, in a microsecond Catherine was scurrying toward Claire and the gun. Without thinking, Tony dove forward. As he neared the women, he realized that Catherine wasn’t going after the gun: she’d pulled a crying Nichol from Claire’s arms. The earlier clarity glowed with new radiance. His daughter’s safety was paramount to everything else. Momentarily forgetting the gun, Tony’s strong hands steadied as he secured Nichol’s small, wet, blanket-covered body and pulled her toward his chest. Though Catherine grappled for control, she was no match for Tony’s strength and determination.
With their daughter once again safe in his arms, Tony looked to Claire with reassurance as Phil came into view. Tony hadn’t seen him enter the office, yet Phil’s intention was clear as he neared Claire, whose gaze was fixed on Catherine, completely unaware of Phil’s presence. The gun in her grasp shook violently as she lifted the barrel toward Catherine who stood in front of Tony and Nichol. Phil’s soothing tone was barely audible over the mayhem. Reaching for the gun, he said, “Claire, it’s all right. Give me the gun.”
Placing a hand on Claire’s shoulder, Phil reached for the gun at the exact moment their world exploded with a flash and a bang. Tony instinctively twisted away in an effort to protect Nichol, as Catherine fell backward, toppling the three of them onto the wet carpet. The room filled with people, and footsteps rushed toward them.
“Claire! Claire!” Tony screamed as he assessed Nichol, made it to his knees, and fought to get to his wife. Easing himself and Nichol away from Catherine’s body as she twisted and moaned, Tony’s dark eyes searched through the smoke and artificial rain. He called out again, “Claire!”
Tony needed to get to Claire and let her know that he and Nichol were all right. He wanted to touch her and hold her, to hold both of his ladies and have them safe in his embrace. He saw her across the room, lying limp where only seconds earlier she’d been standing. Tony and Phil both rushed to her side. With Nichol still in his arms, Tony picked up the gun. Suddenl
y, the room filled with people.
“Help me! They tried to kill me!” Catherine’s voice begged for attention.
Tony ran his hand over Claire’s cheek.
“I’m not sure what happened,” Phil replied to Tony’s unasked question. “She just collapsed. I don’t know if she hit her head. I wasn’t fast enough to catch her.”
Unexpectedly, someone turned up the volume. What only seconds earlier had been a dull roar of activity grew to an explosion of voices. The sound of his name came into range. “Mr. Rawlings. Mr. Rawlings.”
It was a member of the Iowa City Police Department. Tony recognized him, though he didn’t know his name. Was he one of the officers who’d searched the house after Claire disappeared? Tony couldn’t remember. He turned toward the officer and spoke, “Yes, my wife needs help.”
The officer spoke calmly, “Mr. Rawlings, give me the gun.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t know he’d been holding it: he did. It was that he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was Claire and Nichol. They were safe and the police were there. They’d take Catherine away and his family would be safe. Holding out the gun, Tony implored, “Here, take it. Someone help my wife.”
Another officer took the gun away, while the man with the name Hastings stitched on a patch above his badge stepped between Tony and Claire and said, “Your wife? Who’s your wife, Mr. Rawlings? Ms. Nichols is your ex-wife.”
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 170
