Convicted by Aleatha Romig
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.
You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.
―Marcus Aurelius
Claire’s eyes were accustomed to the darkness. Turning towards the sound, towards the open doors to the lanai, she saw Tony’s silhouette. Again, their words came in unison, “I’m sorry.”
They both stepped forward, and when their bodies touched, the pressure which had been building evaporated into a sweet release. The tension he sensed on the beach was gone; Claire’s body was liquid in his hands—molding and conforming to his. Their lips united as a different tightness began to build deep within.
Claire was his—he was hers. It had been that way since before she even knew him—or knew of him. She could fight that revelation, b
With their sandy clothes lost somewhere on their bedroom floor, their fervent passion led them to the large bed. Though the soft hum of the ceiling fan whirled above their naked bodies, the heat they felt couldn’t be cooled. Claire’s lips suckled his broad shoulder as his skillful hands roamed the familiar and new curves of her figure. His touch stirred her desires, making her plead for more.
Though faint moonlight cloaked the room in shadows, Tony could see Claire’s sleeping mask on her bedside stand. It was black satin, and helped to keep the morning sunlight away while she slept. Reaching for the mask, Tony held it in Claire’s line of vision and asked, “Do you trust me?”
Seeing the mask and his devilish grin, Claire’s heart began to beat erratically. Yes, she put the mask on herself before she fell asleep; however, it was never something they’d done for fun. Her mind raced back to a room with a lock that beeped. There was a time—long ago, in the beginning—when there were blindfolds and restraints, but she never considered any of that fun. “No,” her small hands pushed against his chest. “No!” She wasn’t seeing the man on top of her—she was seeing the man from those memories. “I don’t want to wear that—please—please don’t make me.”
Perhaps he made a sound; Claire wasn’t sure. Something made her eyes open, and suddenly, she saw the man who was truly there. In his eyes she again saw pain. “Oh, Tony”—her arms surrounded his neck—“I do trust you. I just don’t want to wear that.” Her heart broke as he nodded and rolled off of her, onto his pillow. Lifting her head to look at him, Claire started to apologize, but before she could speak, he placed his finger on her lips.
Never could she have predicted her ex-husband’s next move. Claire Nichols would never have imagined Anthony Rawlings placing such a high bet as to wager himself, yet that’s what he did. Lifting his head to gently kiss her lips, he whispered, “I trust you.” Then he covered his own eyes with her satin mask. As absurd as he looked with the black satin ruffles around the sides, she’d never been so honored. He was hers! That was what he’d tried to tell her on the beach. Yes, the whole idea of him watching her over the years was creepy, but that wasn’t what he’d tried to convey. Seeing him lay still with his eyes blinded to her every move, Claire understood—she had him—his heart—his soul—and his body. They were hers to do with what she wanted.
Easing herself to her knees, she allowed her lips to brush his neck. His growls encouraged and the stubbles abraded. Claire loved every sensation and every minute. Next, she moved to his chest where her hands caressed his muscles as her fingers wove through his chest hair. When she licked and sucked a nipple, his arms encircled her.
Within this new paradigm, Claire was empowered. Sitting up, she pushed his arms back to the mattress and said, “No.” His grin from below the satin melted her. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to do all the things she imagined; her body was on a precipice, and at any moment, she’d be lost in earthshaking bliss.
It wasn’t like anything they’d ever experienced, nor was it how Claire always wanted it to be; nevertheless, on this one night—it was perfect. After Claire’s world exploded and Tony’s did too, she collapsed against his chest and fought to breathe. Finally, she lifted her head and removed the satin blindfold. The spark within the chocolate bliss made her reconsider her desire for sleep.
Tony’s grin infiltrated his words, “Since you removed the blindfold, does that mean I can now hold you?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Rawlings, please do.”
Although nothing about their recent history seemed wrong, it didn’t take him long to right their world. Turning Claire, he gently laid her upon the bed and fanned her hair on her pillow. “Just so you know”—he whispered in a deep raspy voice—“your hair sweeping over my face and chest when I couldn’t see it—was incredibly erotic.”
Claire giggled. “Well, that’s good to know. I’ll remember that for next time.”
His brow cocked upward. “Next time?”
She nodded.
Tony shrugged. “Well, my dear, they do say variety is the spice of life.”
Claire ran her finger over his pink lips. Before she could remove it, Tony sucked the tip into his mouth. Pressing her breasts upward, her eyes fluttered shut and she purred, “As long as that variety is with me, I think I might be willing.”
Nearing his lips to her ear, Tony whispered, “Only you—it’s only been you for a very long time.”
Before going to sleep, they decided to go for a late night swim. Although they wore robes to the pool, they didn’t bother with bathing suits. With the water near the same temperature as the humid air, the only difference was the degree of moisture as they became submerged. Tony disappeared under the water and swam the length of the infinity pool and back. Claire giggled as he came out of the water right in front of her. Taking her hands, he led her out to the deeper end. Holding his shoulders, she wrapped her legs around his torso and gazed up at the stars.
Tony kissed her neck. “What are you thinking about?”
Claire shrugged. “A lot of things—our baby, our friends, and my family.”
“It’s all right to miss them.”
“I’ve been away from them before, but this time, it’s different. This time, I feel like I’ve betrayed them. I’m the one who left without telling anyone.”
“What do you think would happen if they knew the truth?”
Claire contemplated. “They might be in danger? At this point, I wouldn’t put anything past Catherine.”
Tony nodded. “By keeping them ignorant, we’re protecting them.”
Laying her head against his shoulder, Claire ran her hand over his arm.
Tony reached for her left hand and looked at the diamond on her finger. “You know that this ring gave me hope and broke my heart at the same time?”
Claire raised her eyebrows.
“When the police found your belongings in that motel in Illinois and this ring wasn’t with them, I wanted to believe you were all right, that you were making your own decisions, and you weren’t in the hands of some crazy stalker, but then I realized, if that were true, then it meant you’d left me. It meant you didn’t want to be with me and you’d never return.”
She freed her hand and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. “I’m so sorry. I was scared and misled.” She kissed his cheek while her fingers ran through his hair. “I should’ve spoken with you.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I couldn’t leave the ring. I’d promised to keep it. I just couldn’t leave it.” Tears teetered on her lids.
He gently pushed her away and gazed into her eyes. “Claire, what’s the matter?”
She smiled behind the tears. “I think it’s the hormones—sometimes I just cry.”
Tony smiled and hugged her tightly. “Just today, someone mentioned something about that.”
“Today? Who?”
“It was Francis. I know I’ve only been here a few days, but I think he and Madeline are great people. This island wouldn’t be the same without them.”
Claire nodded into his shoulder as she tried to suppress a yawn. “I agree.”
Carrying Claire, Tony walked slowly toward the steps. “I think you need to get some sleep.”
When they reached the steps, Claire let go of his neck. “I’m getting too fat for you to carry me out of the water.”
“No, Ms. Nichols—you’re not fat; however, I agree. I’d never forgive myself if my wet feet slipped and I hurt you or our son.”
Claire looked back
He shrugged. “Or daughter—I really don’t care.”
Taking his hand, Claire said, “While we were apart, I prayed for a boy. I wanted him to be just like you.”
“Like me?”—he shook his head—“I know you’re smarter than that.”
As they reentered their suite, Claire said, “Well, the Nichols had only girls—at least, the last generation, and it seems the Rawls had only boys...so soon, we’ll learn which family dominates.”
Tony kissed her neck. “Sweetheart, the man determines the sex.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Not tonight—he didn’t.”
“If you’re up for round two, I’m pretty sure we could even the score.”
“I think I’m going to wash the chlorine out of my hair. If it’s not too dominating of a suggestion, as you already know the shower is quite large, you may join me?”
Tony smirked. “Are you suggesting water conservation? I mean, I’m all for conserving resources.”
Later that night with the score one to one, Claire fell sound to sleep, listening to the soothing rhythm of Tony’s heartbeat. Fleetingly, she thought about Tony’s revelation. It was only the beginning, and they both knew there was much more to discuss. Their conversations in the past and in the future always had one rule—honesty. Tony had followed that rule—and in essence, so had Claire. If she’d pretended his statement didn’t bother her, then she wouldn’t have been honest. Her last thought as she drifted away was of Tony’s warning. Claire decided he was right—the truth could be better handled in small manageable pieces. It was like her old way of dealing—compartmentalization. The difference was—instead of hiding the secrets in the compartments—this time, they were bringing them out.