They were the eyes she’d dreamt about—the eyes she saw in pictures of their daughter. They were the black holes which years ago swallowed and consumed her heart and soul.
Did she move? Did he? There were noises, but the words being spoken weren’t coming from either one of them. They didn’t need words. Over the course of the years, there’d been too many words—words they remembered—and ones they sought to forget. At this moment, none of them mattered.
In merely a split second, Claire took him in—prison had changed him, to a degree. His black mane now held more hints of white—new lines appeared around his eyes—and the hardness in his expression was replaced by something stronger, yet more serene. No matter the differences, he was still her husband—he was still Anthony Rawlings.
Their bodies nearly touched when the scent of his cologne filled the air. She inhaled the intoxicating scent she’d imagined over the years and melted into his embrace. Her face rested against the lapel of his silk suit as her body molded to his. Closing her eyes again, she relished the sensation of his muscular chest and beating heart. They still hadn’t spoken, yet the volume of the room around them had increased exponentially. His hand reached for her chin and brought their eyes together. It was the blending of brown and green—light to dark and dark to light—it was their connection—and it surpassed all other obstacles.
“I’ve dreamt of those eyes.” The sound of his deep baritone voice brought a smile to her face.
“As have I.” Suddenly, Claire worried and looked away. Did he know about her break with reality? Did he know people thought she was crazy?
“Look at me.” His commanding tone required obedience. Claire looked back up. “I’ve missed you so much. Why are you looking away?”
“Do you know? Do you know what they say about me?”
His eyes lightened and his cheeks rose. “I know—I love you.”
“They think I’m crazy.”
His hands which held her tightly caressed and soothed her back. “I think we’re all crazy. That doesn’t mean that I’m leaving here today without you. My love, you’re coming home.”
She caught her breath and tried to comprehend. Slowly, the rest of the room came back into focus. Apparently, they weren’t the only two people on earth. Her normally empty room overflowed with people. Emily stood to the side, with tears in her eyes and an anguished expression, as she spoke on her phone. Brent and Courtney were there, and Brent was talking to another man, showing him documents. Courtney was hugging herself, smiling, with tears running down her cheeks.
Finding her voice, Claire sought the reassurance of Tony’s gaze, “I’m leaving here? How?”
Brent nodded at the other gentleman and stepped toward Tony and Claire. Claire reached out and squeezed Brent’s hand. “I’m so thankful you’re...”
Brent smiled and said, “Me too—if I weren’t alive, I couldn’t be the one to tell you”—he grinned toward Claire. His eyes sparkling with new vitality—“I wouldn’t be the one to help you.”
Claire remembered him telling her one time, how he’d always wanted to help her—not hurt her. While holding tight to Tony’s hand, she smiled at his clandestine reference.
Brent continued, “As long as Tony was incarcerated, Emily was your listed next of kin and held your power of attorney. I’m holding the judgment by Judge Wein, your husband is, once again, legally your next of kin. Until you’re completely cleared medically, he has the power to make your medical decisions including your release.”
“I thought I was here because of an insanity plea?”
Brent shook his head. “Originally, that was true, but you were cleared of all charges by self-defense.” He looked to Emily and back. “You’ve been kept here for your safety; however, I’ve obtained statements from your doctors substantiating your mental health. Soon, you should legally be able to make your own decisions. In the meantime, with Tony’s signature, you can go home. There are some hoops we need to jump through—therapy you must agree to complete—but we’re not leaving Everwood without you.”
Turning toward Emily, Brent continued, “You can choose to fight—if you want. I’m sure John will be here soon; however, I can assure you—I’ve left no ‘T’ uncrossed or ‘I’ undotted.”
The aguish in Emily’s expression broke Claire’s heart. Barely able to bring herself to let go of Tony’s hand, Claire walked to her sister and wrapped her arms around her neck. “I know you’ve been doing what you thought was best, and Emily, I love you for it, but now it’s time for all of us to move forward.”
After a moment of obvious internal turmoil, Emily said, “John is on his way, but we’re not going to fight.”
“Emily, there’s one more thing,” Brent said as he handed her another document. “This is from the Family Court. Anthony and Claire Rawlings have been granted full custody of their daughter, Nichol Rawlings. They will be assuming the roles of custodial parents—soon.”
As they listened, Tony’s arm tightened around Claire, and she smiled up at him. It was more than she’d ever hoped—more than she’d dared to dream. “We’re going to be a family again.” Her words were a mere whisper that only Tony could hear. Feeling the warm grasp of his large hand around hers was confirmation enough. The terrible ordeal was over.
Never have plans for the future as you never know how things will turn out.
—Nigella Lawson
Claire clung to Tony’s hand, listened to the voices, and responded appropriately. As long as she held on—as long as they touched—she knew he was real. The Everwood administration required them to meet with doctors and administrators before granting Claire’s release. With Brent’s legal documentation and Emily’s concession, these meetings were Claire’s last hurdle to freedom.
She watched in awe as the Tony from her memories argued for her release. There was nothing about the man in the Armani suit with the gelled back hair and perfect diction that hinted toward ex-con. Tony personified affluence and business success. He sounded like a CEO. Never once, despite what a doctor or therapist said, did Claire doubt Tony’s ability to fulfill his promise—she’d be going home.
Once in a while, Brent would need to remind someone of Tony’s legal rights as her husband. It warmed her heart to see the two of them working together on a common goal. Occasionally, someone would ask Claire a question—some were simple—the date or name of the president. Others were questions about her feelings or concerns. After each appropriate answer, she’d feel the squeeze of Tony’s warm hand or see the reassurance of his smile. It didn’t matter that behind the smile she also saw sadness. They had both endured too much. What mattered was that they were together and soon they’d have Nichol. Claire couldn’t wait to leave the facility and have her family united. With each second, her anticipation grew. She knew, when they were, again, a family, the sadness would leave Tony’s eyes, and she’d see the light chocolate brown they once had in paradise.
After they’d signed the last document and answered the last question, she whispered in his ear, “Let’s go get Nichol.”
She expected a smile and a nod—some sign of affirmation. Instead, he directed the Everwood staff, “Gather all of Mrs. Rawlings’ things. I want everything sent to our home.”
Claire offered, “I don’t need everything. I can get the things I want.”
“No, you can go through it later. We’re getting you out of here. You aren’t spending another second in this place.”
She didn’t argue—nor did she want to. Although she detested having the facility’s staff direct her movements, she loved Tony’s control. It was his way of protecting her. She knew that. Yes, he could be domineering, but she’d missed every part of him, his overprotectiveness included.
John was now waiting with Emily as Tony and Claire exited the administrator’s office. When Claire saw her family, her body tensed in anticipation of a confrontation. Before she could speak or devise a mental plan, John held out his hand.
“Anthony.”
With his hand extended, Tony replied, “Tony—please, call me Tony. Thank you, John, for all you’ve done while I was away. Brent tells me you’ve been quite helpful at Rawlings.”
“It was for Nichol and Claire.”
Tony nodded. “And for that—for our family, I thank you.”
“I’ve been privy to many of your decisions. I want you to know, I respect them.”
“Then I hope my return won’t cause you to search for another job. Rawlings Industries and I can always use someone like you on our side.”
John nodded. “Emily and I need to talk, but I think I’d like that.”
Claire released Tony’s hand and encircled John’s neck. Her emotions were all over the place. One minute, she was excited and the next, she was unsure. As she hugged her brother-in-law, tears of joy fell from her eyes. “I had no idea you were working at Rawlings.”
Claire released John and immediately hugged her sister. “Thank you, Emily. Thank you for not fighting this.”
John explained, “Anth—I mean Tony’s right, and you’re right, we are a family—for our children, we need to behave like adults.”
Claire stammered, “C—children—I can’t wait to see Nichol and meet Michael.”
Emily’s eyes filled with tears. “She’s so little. She won’t understand—”
John spoke over Emily, “Your daughter is beautiful and intelligent—she’s also young. As long as we do this together, she’ll make the transition just fine.”
Claire looked up at her husband. Although she wasn’t sure what she expected to see, the sadness mixed with gratitude took her by surprise. Taking one of his hands, she said, “We’ve missed so much. I can’t wait to hold her again.”
Tony replied, “Thank you again, not just for Rawlings, but for taking care of Nichol. We’re anxious to come and see her, but first, I’d like to take Claire somewhere. It won’t take long, and then we’ll be over to your house. The child psychologist I consulted recommended a gradual transition before we bring her home to stay.”
“I thought...” Claire’s heart ached.
Emily’s moist eyes came to life as she nodded. “Yes—gradual, I think Tony’s right.” She feigned a smile toward Tony. “Thank you. This’ll give us time to talk with her—to try to explain things. Let’s make this as easy for Nichol as possible.”
When they all walked outside, Claire lifted her face toward the sky. Inhaling, she savored the fresh autumn breeze. Despite the gray sky, the changing leaves added color to an otherwise dark day. An overwhelming sense of freedom momentarily paralyzed her movements.
“What is it?” Tony asked.
“It’s beautiful. The trees are colorful and the season is changing. It feels so good to be free.”
Tony smiled and wrapped his arm around Claire’s shoulder. “I want to show you something.”
For most of the drive from Cedar Rapids to Iowa City, Claire watched the landscape through the window, and with her hand in Tony’s, she contemplated their family. Of course, it would be hard on Nichol. Why hadn’t she thought of that? But Tony had. He’d even consulted a child psychologist. Claire rested her head against his shoulder. After everything they’d been through the world was right—Tony would make everything right.
When she recognized their location, she asked a question she hadn’t thought to consider, “We’re near the estate. What about the fire? Was there a lot of damage?”
His eyes twinkled. “That’s what I want to show you.”
Nervously, Claire watched as they drove toward the entrance. The front gates opened and they wound up the familiar drive. When the trees parted, Claire gasped. “What happened?”
“You don’t like it?”
She heard the disappointment in his voice, but she couldn’t lie. “I—I don’t know? Did the whole house burn?”
“No. There was a lot of smoke and water damage, but the fire was pretty much contained to the first level southwest corridor.”
As soon as Tony stopped the car, Claire opened her door. Silently, she stood trying to comprehend the grand, white, brick structure. Mesmerized, she stared at the tall windows, long porches, black shutters, and lovely columns. The landscaping was perfect, with tall trees and beds of colorful mums. At one end of the house, there appeared to be an enclosed porch, while at the other end, she saw a carport.
Finally, Tony asked, “Do you want to see the inside?”
Claire didn’t move—it didn’t seem real. Searching for answers, she asked, “What happened to our house?”
“I had it demolished. I built for the wrong reasons”—he took her hand—“it was our house, but it was never a home. It contained too many memories.”
“So, you got rid of it? Tony, there were good memories there too.”
“I built that house for Nathaniel.” His brown eyes sparkled. “Claire, I had this home built for you.” Standing in front of her, he tugged her hand. The uncertainty behind his eyes pulled her forward; she allowed him to lead her inside.
The entry was beautiful—instead of marble, the flooring was a light polished oak. Immediately, Claire felt the warmth of a home. Yes, the estate had been their house, but there were times it felt more like a museum. As Tony took her from room to room, Claire saw the attention to detail—bookcases, cabinetry, custom ceilings and intricate lighting. The back of the house was nothing but windows. In the living room, the windows extended two stories. When they entered the kitchen, her eyes shone. It wasn’t the industrial kitchen of the old mansion. This room was designed with a family in mind. The granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, ornate tile work, stone floor, and back wall of glass all added to the casual yet luxurious feel.
“Oh, this looks like a kitchen where I’d love to cook.”
Tony smiled. “You have a cook, but it’s your kitchen. You can do whatever you’d like.”
The lower level contained all the amenities of the old house: a theater room more modern than before, a fun family area, as well as an exercise room and lap pool. When they entered the pool, Tony squeezed Claire’s shoulders. “I couldn’t build you a house without your favorite room.”
Speechless, she shook her head. Finally, she whispered, “It’s beautiful, thank you.”
Next, Tony took Claire upstairs to Nichol’s room—it was a room fit for a princess. Shades of pink and purple dominated the senses as the canopy bed set center stage. Each door or drawer Claire opened was filled. The closets were stocked with clothes and shoes, while the shelves were full of books and dolls. Lastly, he led her to the master bedroom suite.
Compared to the rest of the house, Claire was surprised by the darkness of the room. Letting go of her hand, Tony walked to the far wall and lifted a switch. The draperies moved and the room filled with natural light—more ceiling to floor windows. Claire gasped. In the middle of the windows were two large French doors. He opened the doors, allowing the fresh air to fill their suite and motioned toward the balcony. They stepped through the glass and Claire exclaimed, “Tony, everything is so open and bright.”
Reaching for her hands, he stared down into her emerald eyes. Suddenly, the cooling autumn air no longer registered—Claire knew she could stand in his gaze forever. Before the sadness behind the dark registered, his baritone voice replied, “This is your glass house—one that won’t shatter. I don’t want you to ever feel trapped again. I want you to be able to see the sky and sun—or moon and stars—whenever you desire.”
She melted against his chest. “Thank you, I love it! But how—how did you do this? You were in prison.”
“I had a lot of help.”
Their balcony contained furniture perfect for enjoying the woods behind their home. Standing at the rail, Claire peered below and saw many other amenities—a pool, a basketball court, a play set—bigger than those in most local parks—and the gardens. Sitting on a gliding seat, looking over the tree tops, Claire sighed and laid her head against her husband’s shoulder.
Tony spoke, “Of course, y
ou still have your island—if you’d prefer you can move back there. Although this view is beautiful, it’s difficult to compete with the view from your lanai. I just thought it might be easier on Nichol if you lived closer to John and Emily for a while.”
She looked up. “Why do you keep saying you? You mean we.”
Tony reached into his breast pocket, removed an envelope, and extended it toward her. “You and Nichol, Claire—this house—the entire estate—it’s yours.”
Her world stopped spinning. There weren’t enough masks ever created to hide her emotions. Whatever was in the envelope he offered—she didn’t want. Never in the history of time had any documentation he handed her been good. Claire stood and backed away from his hand. “I don’t know what’s in that envelope, but whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
Soothingly, he said, “It’s for you.”
“I don’t care. I said no.”
“You just said you didn’t know what it was. How can you say no?”
Her volume decreased. Fighting the sobs, she whispered, “Tell me—tell me why you’re saying you instead of we?” When he hesitated, she straightened her shoulders and spoke louder, “Tell me!”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. I deserve a straight answer.”
“If you’ll sit down, I’ll explain.”
Claire eyed him suspiciously and slowly retook the seat beside him. She steadied her voice, closed her eyes momentarily, and said, “I’m sitting—talk.”
He looked out at the trees and exhaled. “I tried to contact you. I wanted to be with you, to be there for you. The scene at the estate was crazy. When you pulled the trigger, the police were already here and they immediately arrested both of us. Apparently, the Iowa City Police weren’t aware of our cooperation with the FBI. Catherine had called them to say I was there, and that she was afraid. The police assumed that you and I were trying to kill Catherine.
“Eventually, Brent got me out on bail. Of course, that was after he returned from Chicago and learned he was supposed to be dead. He was the only legal counsel who knew about our cooperation with the FBI. By the time I was out—Emily had obtained a restraining order against me. You weren’t talking to anyone, and she assumed you were trying to kill me—to get away from me. Brent, Tom, my whole damn legal staff tried to lift her order. Meredith’s book was out—the whole world knew what I’d done to you.”