It was nice to have everyone near. Claire wished for the doctor, but the camaraderie was much better than being alone. Francis explained that, although the forecast wasn’t promising, if a break occurred in the weather, he’d take the boat to Dr. Gilbert. If he couldn’t help Madame el and her bébé in that way, he’d do what he’d been doing all night—he’d pray. When he squeezed Claire’s hand, the tension from the storm and impending labor dissipated. The sunshine of faith overpowered the fog of doubt.
After Francis reassured Claire and Tony, he slipped from the room. When Madeline entered with a concoction of fruit juices, Claire noticed Phil. Since he hadn’t spoken, she hadn’t been aware of his presence. With his arms crossed over his chest, he’d been leaning against the wall, observing. Claire reached out her hand. “Phil, I didn’t see you. Please come over here.”
His steps were dutiful and painstakingly slow. In all the time she’d known Phil, she’d never seen his current expression. It wasn’t anger—she saw that the day he found Harry in their hotel suite. It wasn’t concern—she saw that multiple times as they worked to hide. Claire wasn’t sure what it was. When he reached her hand, Claire was the one to reassure. Squeezing his, she said, “I’m fine, Phil. The baby’s fine. Please don’t risk your life to get the doctor. We’ll be all right.”
He didn’t speak—he nodded. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with the whole intimacy of the situation. He’d seen her in a nightgown before; however, this was understandably different.
Claire looked to Tony. When their eyes met, Tony repeated Claire’s words, “If anyone’s risking their life to get the doctor, it will be me.” Tony looked back to Claire, “However, at this point, no one will.”
She exhaled.
After Claire drank most of Madeline’s fruit juice, Tony helped her stand. She read somewhere that walking could help induce labor. Her first stop was the bathroom; she wanted to be clean. When she turned to close the door, Tony entered. “I’m not leaving you alone. You’re stuck with me.”
Claire smiled. “Thank you.” There were some things that were difficult to ask, but when they were offered or demanded, it was comforting. At that moment, Claire was thankful for her demanding husband.
By midafternoon, the rain stopped, the sky began to clear, and patches of blue infiltrated the gray sky. As evening approached the blue dominated, even as the wind continued to howl. The sound of surf filled their ears as the normally calm lagoon produced waves with white tops.
With Claire’s arm in Tony’s, they walked the length of the lanai and back again. Claire didn’t believe anyone else had slept, yet no one complained. It was during their fourth or fifth lap when Phil approached. “Excuse me, Francis believes we have enough time to get to town and back before dark.”
Claire looked anxiously toward Tony. The contractions had come back; however, they weren’t occurring with any sense of regularity. Thankfully, they also weren’t in her back—they were a tightening that encompassed her entire midsection. Claire wouldn’t authorize a venture that could harm the people she loved. Reaching out, Claire took Phil’s hand. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
His neck straightened, and his tone sounded formal. “Mrs. Rawlings, I can assure you, I’ve had more difficult assignments than a boat ride in the tropics of the South Pacific.”
Tony nodded. When he began to speak, Claire gripped his arm. Both men looked to her as she closed her eyes and repeatedly exhaled.
Perhaps there was an unspoken connection between Phil and Tony. Both men wanted to help, needed to help, yet felt helpless. This was Phil’s chance to do something—for Claire. Tony replied, “Be safe—and be fast.” Claire didn’t argue. When she opened her eyes, she saw Phil’s nod before he hurried away.
Moments later, the distant roar of the boat’s motor filtered through the reverberating sound of the surf. Claire grasped Tony’s arm again—the contractions were getting closer.
Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.
—Stephenie Meyer, New Moon
When Meredith left her husband Thursday morning, she couldn’t stop the tears. He didn’t want her to go, but he didn’t argue. He hadn’t been married to his college sweetheart for ten years without understanding her desires. Avoiding the scheduled meeting would be the equivalent of the first story Meredith wrote about Claire. It would be lying and cheating—very ironic, considering the stance she was about to support as truth—was in fact—a lie.
It took Meredith a moment in the parking lot to regain her composure, but summoning all her strength, she pushed the thoughts of her children and husband aside and concentrated on Claire. The meeting would be short-lived; as soon as Emily saw her, it would be over. Her only hope was that she’d be released on bail. Unbeknownst to Meredith, her husband was spending the morning securing their assets in anticipation of such a call.
She wished she could tell everyone the progress Claire had made; however, Meredith wouldn’t do that. She’d promised Claire she wouldn’t tell anyone, and she wouldn’t let her down again.
Making her way to the conference room on the first floor of the doctor’s tower, Meredith had a fleeting feeling of pity for Ms. Bali. Yesterday, her supervisor was almost giddy about this meeting. It was unusual for someone as low as a food aide to be recognized for contribution to a patient’s care. Having the family and lead doctor desiring to speak with someone under Ms. Bali’s supervision was the biggest compliment she’d received in over twenty years. Before Meredith went to Claire’s room yesterday afternoon, Ms. Bali went on and on about the years of under appreciation. Meredith hypothesized this meeting was why she received a mere verbal reprimand for keeping Claire out so late the other night. Among her other prayers, Meredith hoped Ms. Bali wouldn’t be penalized for hiring someone with false credentials.
As Meredith neared the conference room, she fought the urge to make one last trip to Claire’s room; instead, she willed her feet forward. She wasn’t wearing her uniform. Looking down at her blouse and skirt, Meredith grinned. She’d spent quite a bit of time choosing a blouse she thought would look good in a mug shot.
Stepping through the threshold, Meredith scanned the room. Smiling to those in attendance, she hid her surprise at the empty seats. She’d expected the room to be fuller. The faces smiling back at her were ones of staff members she’d seen periodically in corridors and patients’ rooms. The meeting was scheduled for 8:30 AM, and Ms. Bali arrived with minutes to spare. Her normal uniform was replaced with a nice skirt suit. Smiling, she sat beside Meredith. 8:30 AM came and went. The Vandersols weren’t present, nor was Dr. Fairfield. By 8:45 AM, the staff present began to fidget. Ms. Bali’s expression began to waver, exposing her concerned eyes as she watched the clock on the wall.
At 9:00 AM, a confident, professionally dressed woman came into the room and apologized, “Excuse me, Mrs. Russel and everyone else, my name is Valerie, I’m Dr. Fairfield’s assistant. I’ve been sent to apologize to you for this inconvenience. Mrs. Russel, your help with Ms. Nichols has been noticed and appreciated. Dr. Fairfield apologizes for his inability to attend this meeting, as do the Vandersols. Something unexpected has come up. They wanted you to know that your assistance has been—and is—acknowledged. They hope you’ll continue working with Ms. Nichols; she works very well with you. Thank you everyone for coming. This meeting is done.”
Meredith stared, trying to comprehend Valerie’s speech. When Dr. Fairfield’s assistant turned to walk away, Meredith suddenly realized the only possible reason for everyone to miss this meeting. It had something to do with Claire. Meredith asked, “Excuse me, Valerie?”
The assistant turned around. “Yes, Mrs. Russel?”
“Is Claire—I mean, Ms. Nichols, all right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Russel. May I speak with you privately?”
Meredith couldn’t resist. Although she’d just received a pardon, she needed to know what kept everyone away and that Claire was well. Meredith followed Vale
rie into an empty elevator. Valerie pushed the button for the floor of Dr. Fairfield’s office and whispered, “Dr. Fairfield said if you asked that I was to bring you up.”
“Are you sure she’s all right?”
Valerie didn’t answer verbally, but her expression morphed from stoic business assistant to a school girl with a secret—one she was dying to share. Meredith decided not to push any further. If she were being included in this gathering, then it was something big.
The relief Meredith felt at the conclusion of the non-existent meeting dissipated as she neared Dr. Fairfield’s office. She suddenly realized she was seconds away from facing the Vandersols. “Are you sure I’m welcome?” she asked as they entered the quiet hallway.
“You are, but first, let me show you what’s happening. Come with me.”
Meredith’s anxiety grew with each step. Valerie took her to a room. The name plate beside the door read: Observation. Inside, there were four chairs all facing a large mirror. Valerie pointed toward the mirror and pushed a switch. The dark glass transformed into a window, giving them visual entry to a well lit room. On the other side of the glass, Meredith saw a surreal scene. Claire was sitting in a chair, maintaining eye contact with her sister. Emily was also sitting, bent at the waist, holding Claire’s hands with their knees touching. Claire looked uncomfortable, but it was Emily who appeared visibly shaken. Her eyes were puffy with dark streaks of mascara coating her cheeks.
There was no sound; nevertheless, Emily’s lips were moving, Claire was nodding and shaking her head—answering questions that Meredith couldn’t hear. John’s blotchy face caught Meredith’s attention as he knelt next to Emily with his hand on Claire’s knee. Dr. Fairfield and Dr. Brown were observing and conversing near the far corner.
“What happened?” Meredith finally asked, choking back the emotion which bubbled in her chest.
“When the staff arrived to Ms. Nichols’ room to help her shower, she was already showered and dressed; then she told them she didn’t want eggs for breakfast—she wanted fruit.” As Valerie recounted the scene that sent every member of Claire’s care team into overdrive, Valerie couldn’t contain her smile.
Meredith, however, was having difficulty holding back her tears. “Do they think this is real? I mean, will it last?”
“Oh, Dr. Fairfield is beside himself. Mrs. Russel, he’s invited you to join them. Your care has helped in getting Ms. Nichols to this point.”
Meredith knew that was true, but she also knew Claire’s public declaration was done for one reason—to save her. If she entered that room, then she’d defeat Claire’s efforts. Unable to keep the emotion from her voice, Meredith replied, “I want to, but seeing her with her sister and brother-in-law...I don’t want to interrupt this family moment. Besides, I don’t want her to see me crying. I don’t want to upset her.”
Valerie placed her hand comfortingly on Meredith’s shoulder. “I understand. This has been very emotional for everyone.”
“May I see her later this afternoon? I’m not scheduled to work, but I’d like to bring her dinner to her, if I may?”
“I don’t see why not. Does Ms. Bali have your number?”
“Yes, she does.”
“If there are any concerns, we’ll call you; otherwise, please come back.” Valerie patted her shoulder. “Ms. Nichols mentioned you by name. She does appreciate all that you’ve been doing for her.”
Meredith couldn’t answer; the soft tears now flowed too freely. She took one last look at the scene through the window, nodded to Valerie, and left the observation room. After retrieving a tissue from her purse, Meredith walked to the kitchen offices. Ms. Bali would want to know what happened and transformed their meeting.
As soon as Meredith reached her car, she called her husband. In retrospect, she understood how he misconstrued her tears. Of course, he thought she’d been arrested. When she explained what Claire did, he promised a celebratory dinner. Meredith agreed, with one stipulation—it needed to be a late one. First, she wanted to come back and see Claire—after the Vandersols left.
Six steps—that’s the length of Claire’s trek near her bed. Her mind swirled with the onslaught of new information—it was all she could do to slow thoughts. The repetitive counting, as she methodically paced back and forth, helped to calm her—One, two, three, four, five, six—turn—one, two...
She told herself this technique was normal—not crazy.
No matter how much she tried to focus on other issues, Meredith kept coming to Claire’s thoughts. What if she stayed away or didn’t know what Claire had done? What if she didn’t come back?
Unfortunately, Claire knew the answer to her own questions—that knowledge propelled her steps—if Meredith didn’t return—there’d be no one to help Claire remember the man she loved—no one to help her remember the man who would never return. Meredith was the only person willing to break the rules—four, five, six—turn—one—Oh, Claire knew rules—but this rule couldn’t be maintained—as much as she wanted to show everyone that she could behave, obeying this rule wasn’t an option.
Claire knew her memories weren’t right. There were gaps the size of craters! When Claire tried to remember Tony—real memories mixed with illusions. Meredith’s stories helped her remember—they helped to bring color back to the dimming scenes from her past. As Claire tried to recall specific times from her past, panic bubbled up from her chest—three, four, five, six—turn—one, two—Sometimes she’d be able to picture a place, but not the faces. Other times she’d imagine the faces, but the scents were gone. Her pacing quickened as she feared her sacrifice—telling everyone she was getting better—was all for not.
Concentrating on his face, the color of his eyes, and the scent of his cologne, the sound of the opening door or moving cart didn’t register. Perhaps ignoring the worker was a conscious decision. Claire was tired of talking—turn—one, two, three—The day had been so full! There’d been so many different people asking so many questions. She wanted time to process—time to sort things out—time to spend alone with Tony. Yes, she knew that wouldn’t truly happen; nevertheless, memories were better than nothing.
Claire didn’t notice the woman beside her until she felt the hand on her arm. Turning toward the touch, her friend’s voice quieted the numbers and slowed the torrent of thoughts. Although she hadn’t heard what Meredith was saying, Claire bowed her head and whispered, “Oh, thank God.”—“I was worried about you.”
“About me?” Meredith lifted Claire’s chin. “What about you? Are you all right?” Hugging her friend, she added, “Thank you!”
Walking toward the table where Meredith had placed Claire’s food, Claire replied, “I’m tired”—“That’s normal though”—“isn’t it?”
Smiling, Meredith nodded. “Yes, Claire, it is, but what you did, oh my God, it was beyond normal. It was amazing!”
“I can’t lose you”—“Please don’t follow the rules”—Claire spoke in quiet short bursts—“I need you to help me remember”—“You’re my only connection to him.”
“What you did was a big risk. You told me you weren’t ready. Thank you.” Reaching for Claire’s hand, Meredith squeezed and said, “I’m not your only connection. Did you talk to Emily about Nichol?”
Claire’s relieved smile disappeared. “I did”—“She doesn’t want me to see her”—“Not yet”—“Until they’re sure”—“I’m better.”
Meredith’s heart broke. “What do you want?”
“She showed me pictures”—Claire’s voice lightened—“She’s beautiful!” Lifting her moist green eyes toward Meredith, Claire added, “I want to hold her”—“in my arms.” When she closed her eyes, a renegade tear slid down her cheek. “I’ve missed so much.”
“But there’s so much more to experience. We’ll get you better. You’ll be holding Nichol in your arms soon.” Meredith questioned, “How did your family reunion go?”
Claire sighed and shrugged her shoulders. She lifted her fork and began t
o eat. After a few bites, she offered, “There were a lot of questions.” “I’m tired of talking.”
“It’s all right. You don’t need to tell me anything.”
Hurriedly, Claire offered, “I didn’t tell them your last name.” “I just said”—“Meredith”—“That won’t get you in trouble?”—“Will it?”
“No, I’m using Jerry’s last name—Russel.”
Claire exhaled. “Good”—“can you keep visiting?”—“Will you?”—“Please?”
“Oh, yes!”
Though most of her sentences were incomplete and her words slowed with each sentence, Claire told Meredith she didn’t know what to do when Emily and John walked in. The last memories she could recall of her sister, Emily was mad at her. Thankfully, Emily wasn’t mad; instead, she was relieved! During most of the meeting, they talked about Nichol.
It was a much busier day than Claire had experienced in a long time. Although it wasn’t late, after Claire stopped eating, Meredith asked if she wanted help getting ready for bed. Claire didn’t want to accept Meredith’s help, she’d already accepted too much; nevertheless, fatigue prevailed.
Soon, Claire was in her nightgown and ready for sleep. As Meredith was about to leave, she remembered something else she’d brought Claire. “I almost forgot. I have a present for you.”
Meredith went to the food cart and removed a large package, wrapped in pink paper with a brighter pink bow, from the bottom shelf. The colorful box was a stark contrast to the bland room. When she turned back toward Claire, she saw a spark in Claire’s eyes she hadn’t seen in years.
“Do you want to open it now?” Meredith asked as she set the box next to Claire on the bed.
Claire nodded and whispered, “Yes.” Yet, instead of moving, Claire stared at the box.
“Is there a problem?”
“The paper”—“It’s so pretty.”
Meredith eased the bow off and carefully ran her finger under the tape. With the paper loosely covering the gift, she left it beside Claire on the bed. Apprehensively, Claire removed the paper and took off the lid. Pushing the tissue paper aside, she revealed three bright pink throw pillows. Two were circular and one was a square with ruffles. Hugging one of the pillows close to her chest, Claire smiled and asked, “Can they stay here?” “It would be great to have color.”