Convicted (33 page)

As he replied, his chest vibrated against her cheek, “I have some idea, but I don’t want to go anywhere you aren’t ready to go. You deserve to know the whole truth. The thing is—I never imagined telling anyone the whole story—the whole truth. The only person who knew it all—well, we never needed to discuss it.” Looking directly into her eyes, he continued, “It’s as if—if I say any part of it—or all of it—out loud—it makes it real.”

Claire shook her head and spoke into his shirt, “No, Tony, whether you say it aloud or not—it’s real.”

He gently lifted her chin, creating the connection that over the years glued them together. “Do you remember me telling you that sometimes the whole truth is too much to handle?”

“I do. I also remember you saying many other things and doing many other things. I need to know why. I need to know what
you
did, and what was done by someone else. If I don’t know the truth, my imagination takes me places I don’t want to go.” Tony looked away and gazed over her head toward the setting sun; Claire reached up and redirected his eyes back to hers. “We have a child coming—sooner rather than later. I love you. You’re the father of my baby. I want a family; however, if we don’t have complete honesty—we have nothing.”

His chest rose and fell. The eyes looking down at Claire were, once again, filled with remorse. There was a part of her that longed for the black voids of the past—those she could change and pacify. The pain she was witnessing behind the intense brown was his doing—she couldn’t take it away. All she could do was share the burden.

Tony sighed. “If after you hear it all, you want me gone—from your life—and from our child’s life—I wouldn’t blame you.”

Claire smirked. “I’ve wanted you gone before, but you’re still here.”

He grinned. For a split second, she saw the gleam she loved emerge from the sadness. “I believe I’ve told you what I think about that smart mouth.”

Her lips grazed his exposed neck. “Yes, I believe you’ve said you like it.”

Tony reclaimed her petite hand, and they continued walking. “How far have you walked? Can you circle the entire island?”

“I haven’t tried. I’ve only been as far as the orchards. I did leave the island once, when I went to town with Francis. I went to see the doctor. Other than that, I haven’t wanted to leave the grounds around the house.”

Tony’s cadence slowed. “I don’t say it enough. Even though it’s deserved, it’s difficult for me to say—but Claire, I’m sorry. You’re living in fear—on an island—and it’s entirely my fault.”

Her tone hardened. “No, Tony, it isn’t. At least, I don’t believe it is—completely. I know some of it’s
your
doing, but I need to know how much.”

After a prolonged silence, he replied, “I don’t doubt you can handle it; you’ve handled so much. You’ve always been so strong. It’s what—”

“I know—it’s what infuriated you about me.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yes—and it’s what made me fall in love with you.” He seemed lost in thought until he went on, “I fell in love with you while you were with me in Iowa. Like I said before, it wasn’t supposed to be like that, yet every day, you’d do something, or say something, that would stay with me. I’d be at work or in the gym, and I’d remember it. Sometimes it made me angry, but most of the time, it made me smile.” He stopped their progress and peered into her eyes. “Do you have any idea what that’s like? To suddenly be thinking about another person when you least expect it?”

She looked up and smiled a closed lip smile. The emerald of her green eyes shone with the spark of the setting sun as she answered, “I do.”

Tony shook his head. “I didn’t. I never had—never in forty plus years, but then, when you were in prison, I reflected back and I realized—I had. There was someone who appeared in my thoughts, over and over, for years. Someone whose life interested me—someone I watched—and someone who I paid to have followed. It was a different obsession—different than the other people on our list. Without me realizing it, that person consumed my thoughts, and though I didn’t think it possible—she took my heart.”

Claire’s heartbeat quickened.
Did she want to know who dominated his thoughts and took his heart?

He grasped her shoulders. “It was you—I
fell in love
with you while you were supposed to be my prisoner; however, I’ve loved you since before I knew love existed.” He touched her cheek and bathed it in his warm breath. “Claire, you’ve been the captor of my heart since you were a freshman in college.”

His eyes were wide with need. He’d just confessed something monumental. Claire knew he needed affirmation; nevertheless, she felt the blood drain from her face as her knees gave way. Suddenly, she was sitting in the sand at his feet. Despite—or perhaps because of—his honesty, Claire felt nauseous. Lifting her knees as high as she could, she rested her head against them. Tony immediately knelt beside her. When his arm encircled her shoulder, her body tensed.

Of course he felt it. He had an uncanny way of sensing her thoughts and moods. It was what had always made lying so difficult, even when she was his
prisoner
. She recognized his tone—guarded and aloof. “You said you wanted to know, so I’m trying to start at the beginning.”

She shook her head, unsure if she could speak without vomiting. After a few more minutes of silence, his embrace disappeared. Though her eyes remained closed, she felt him move away. When she opened them, she was alone. Claire saw his figure rounding the bend of the beach, going the direction they’d been walking.

Tears coated her cheeks and the gasps of ragged breaths replaced the sound of the surf. This was much more difficult than she ever imagined. Claire wanted to know, yet the thought of being watched—since the age of eighteen or nineteen—made her literally ill.
If it were true, if he had truly been watching since that time, then her other suspicions were probably true. He was probably responsible for Simon’s internship and job offer. He was probably responsible for her parents’ death, her scholarship, her job loss at WKZP...He’d orchestrated her entire life!
The possible confirmation was too much to bear.

By the time she stood, the sun had set and a blanket of black velvet peppered with stars covered the island. The moon’s rays glistened on the now calm lagoon. Each step took effort. Lost in thought, she didn’t see her surroundings or hear the sounds of the night. In time, she reached the path. Lying on the sand, all alone, were her sandals. She didn’t know how Tony could’ve gotten back to the house without her seeing him. Then again, she didn’t know how long she’d been on the beach. The aching in her head that came with the sudden onslaught of nausea, increased. She wondered
if he’d left. Had her reaction been so hurtful that he’d forget her and their child?
Claire’s thoughts went to the boat. If he’d taken it, surely she would have heard the motor; then she remembered Francis’ warning the day they went into town. He told her to always schedule morning appointments.
The seas—they are unpredictable after the sun sets
.

While her temples throbbed at the idea of Tony out in a boat alone, her thoughts were dominated by the words and meaning of his revelation. Claire berated her reaction as she passed the threshold of their dark home. She’d asked for truth—he’d given it, yet instead of facing it with strength, as he said she would, she crumbled at his feet. Damp sand fell from her dress and bare feet as she mindlessly walked through the unlit rooms to their bedroom. Once at her destination, she gazed about their room. The doors to the lanai were open wide with moonlight as the only source of illumination. The room and beyond was filled with shadows. As she was about to turn on a light, she heard something—or someone—on the lanai.

Earlier…

Tony didn’t know where to go—
he was on a damn island!
Each step away from Claire became more and more determined as his feet pushed deeper and deeper into the sand. He trudged forward with his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
She said she wanted truth; he gave her the damn truth. Was that some kind of sick joke? Ask for something—no, demand it—and then when you get it—throw it back!
When he stopped and looked back, all he could see was beach. He wasn’t sure if she’d gone back to the house, or if he’d rounded too many bends.

As he continued walking, the beautiful scenery around him went unnoticed. Before he realized, sunlight was waning. Straight ahead, through the twilight, near the shore, he saw a structure. Curiosity propelled him forward until he recognized the building. It was the boathouse he’d been to the day before with Francis. Tony followed the path through the vegetation until he reached the door. It wasn’t locked. Watercrafts weren’t his normal means for transportation; then again, he’d never lived on an island before. Yesterday, he’d watched Francis maneuver the boat, and he reasoned it wasn’t that much different than a car.

Turning on the light, Tony walked through the garage-like area onto the floating docks and around to the other side of the boat. Francis explained how changing tides made the docks rise and fall. He also mentioned that, occasionally, there were storms which caused the calm seas to rage. A motorized lift hung the boat and kept it suspended above the water. In the case of rough seas, this device protected the watercraft from striking the docks. As Tony neared the controls of the lift, he heard the door to the boathouse open.

Francis entered and asked, “Monsieur, you want to go for a boat ride, oui?”

Tony didn’t know what he wanted. Taking the boat out on the open sea, pushing the throttle all the way down, and feeling the wind against his skin seemed like a good release. “I was thinking about it.”

“Madame el, she’ll go with you?”

“No, she’s...tired.”

Francis nodded. “Oui, bébés, they do that”—he chuckled—“God has not given Madeline and me bébés of our own, but I’ve watched many families multiply here on this island, and the mères—oui—the bébés make them tired.”

Tony nodded; his mind was busy analyzing the control panel of the boatlift.

Francis continued, “And sometimes—sometimes the bébés also make the mères very emotional. Ladies who usually are quiet—having the little bébé inside of them—it makes them loud—and the tears!” He laughed.

Francis’s deep laugh caused Tony to look away from the levers and focus on the man near the doorway.

Francis went on, “The tears, oui! For no reason at all!”—smiling approvingly, he added—“It’s a wonder the pères don’t all go crazy.”

Tony nodded.

“Monsieur, may I help you with the boat? You need to go somewhere? If it is something Madame el needs, perhaps Madeline or I have it at our house?”

“No,” Tony said tentatively—his mind no longer on the boat but on the woman he left on the beach. “It isn’t anything she needs. I was thinking about going for a ride.”

“Oui, of course, you are right.” Francis’ jovial tone lightened the dim boathouse. “Since you’ve arrived, Madame el, she doesn’t need anything. You can see it—the two of you.” Francis walked to the control panel. “Monsieur, this lever here”—he pointed—“it is how we bring her down.” As he depressed the lever, the boat began to descend.

Tony placed his hand over Francis’, stopping the movement of the boat. “No,” Tony said. “I don’t think I need to go for a boat ride right now, but perhaps in the morning?”

“Oui, in the morning! In the morning, I’ll show you the channels and markers. They’re very difficult to see at night if you aren’t used to them.”

Tony patted Francis’ shoulder. “Thank you.” As Tony left the boathouse, they both knew Tony’s gratitude wasn’t for the lesson on the boatlift or the promise of tomorrow’s boat ride.

Following the path during the night wasn’t difficult. Through the years, Francis had done a superb job of controlling the vegetation and creating clear, well-traveled trails. With the addition of the silver rays of moonlight, which occasionally penetrated the lush canopy, Tony’s steps remained confident.

When the path opened to a clearing, Tony saw the warm glow of light coming from Madeline and Francis’ home. As he neared the light, the faint sound of music filled the otherwise quiet air, and the aroma of something delicious taunted his non-existent hunger. Thinking about how early they ate, Tony figured Madeline was making Francis dinner. Looking up the hill, Tony saw the big house. There wasn’t a light glowing from any of the many windows or doors. It looked empty. He wondered if Claire were there or still on the beach. Though he could’ve accessed the house from that side, Tony walked out to the beach to retrieve his sandals. Under the cover of the vegetation, he found them lying in the sand beside Claire’s and picked them up. Looking out toward the beach, he worried. If she were still out there, he needed to go find her. As he scanned the dark shore, he saw her figure coming toward him. Quietly, he slipped up the path.