Convicted
Page 134
When their baby decided to play shy and not reveal its sex, Tony and Claire made the decision to wait. Not knowing if they were having a boy or girl added to their anticipation and daily discussions. Sometimes they’d talk about the advantages of a daughter and then later proclaim the advantages of a son. It was entertaining to listen as Tony considered the possibilities of a little girl, one who would grow into a young lady. Claire pitied the young man who one day would show up at their door to take their daughter on a date. Without a doubt, both Claire and Tony knew how men could behave. If memories of his treatment of Claire upset Tony, the idea that someone could do that to his child was beyond his comprehension. Without a doubt, impending fatherhood had changed his perspective. That time of their life—their past—was something Claire didn’t want to discuss or remember. Unfortunately, it was the topic of discussion all over the world—despite the best efforts of Rawlings attorneys—Meredith’s book had been recently published and was selling like crazy.
Claiming sole access to Claire’s firsthand account, the publisher used Tony and Claire’s current disappearance to its advantage. Since its release, My Life As It Didn’t Appear had found permanent residence on both the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists. Almost daily, Claire regretted her decision to go public with their past. One day she’d need to explain to their child how she and his father met. She only prayed it wouldn’t be until after their child was much older.
Another subject they rarely discussed was Tony’s deal with the FBI. With her due date rapidly approaching, Claire upset easily. Sometimes she’d snap; more often than not, she’d cry. No matter her reaction, Claire didn’t want to consider the possibility of Tony’s incarceration. She admired his strength and resolve and knew that facing his demons wasn’t easy for him. On the nights when she’d awaken and he’d be gone, she knew he was wrestling unknown emotion he’d never before faced. Some nights, he sat on the lanai or walked the beach alone. At first, during these times, Claire tried to approach him. Though he never fully explained his state of mind, she believed it was more his inability to verbalize his new rush of feelings, than his unwillingness to share. His confessions were not only earth shattering to her, but in some ways—to him. He’d distanced himself so much from the human aspect of what transpired, that facing it was difficult; nevertheless, when she woke to an empty bed, Claire believed Tony was working through another situation that only he could fully comprehend. She willingly gave him his space.
Without a doubt—despite everything—Claire didn’t want to be without Tony, even for a short time. Her mind knew of his sins, but her heart had their future safe and secure. In her imagination, they’d live peacefully on the island for another year while the FBI built an iron clad case against Catherine. When they returned to the states, Tony’s testimony and honesty would earn him complete absolution. With his name clear, they’d move back to Iowa and live happily ever after. She imagined picnics at her lake, with her on a blanket while the gentle breeze rustled the leaves and Tony taught their son to fish. Claire knew it was a fantasy; but on many occasions it sustained her.
The softness of the baby blanket caressed her fingers as she gently rocked and contemplated their future. Claire truly had no idea what it would be like to be a mother. Could she do it? She didn’t know. She knew she didn’t want to do it alone. In the past, when her life took unforeseen turns, Claire had survived by concentrating on herself and her responses. Now everything was different. Life was about more than her—and more than Tony—it was about their child. As much as she longed for the perfect family, the uncertainty of their future loomed omnipresent. It was like a fog unexpectedly seeping into their daily lives, rolling in from the sea and filling the corners of a room. Perhaps that was why Claire loved sunshine; it dissipated the fog and made everything clear.
“Blaine.” Tony’s baritone voice permeated the haze and brought sunlight to the small nursery.
Claire freed her hands from the white baby blanket and smiled at her husband’s bright grin. “What?” she asked.
“I was looking at names online and found the name Blaine—I like it!”
“For a boy or a girl?”
Tony cocked his head to the side. “Can it be both?”
“I think, but I like it for a boy,” Claire murmured. “Blaine Rawlings...Yes, I like that, but I thought you wanted a name that could be shortened?”
“I did, but I think it sounds regal. We could call him B or something for short.”
Claiming sole access to Claire’s firsthand account, the publisher used Tony and Claire’s current disappearance to its advantage. Since its release, My Life As It Didn’t Appear had found permanent residence on both the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists. Almost daily, Claire regretted her decision to go public with their past. One day she’d need to explain to their child how she and his father met. She only prayed it wouldn’t be until after their child was much older.
Another subject they rarely discussed was Tony’s deal with the FBI. With her due date rapidly approaching, Claire upset easily. Sometimes she’d snap; more often than not, she’d cry. No matter her reaction, Claire didn’t want to consider the possibility of Tony’s incarceration. She admired his strength and resolve and knew that facing his demons wasn’t easy for him. On the nights when she’d awaken and he’d be gone, she knew he was wrestling unknown emotion he’d never before faced. Some nights, he sat on the lanai or walked the beach alone. At first, during these times, Claire tried to approach him. Though he never fully explained his state of mind, she believed it was more his inability to verbalize his new rush of feelings, than his unwillingness to share. His confessions were not only earth shattering to her, but in some ways—to him. He’d distanced himself so much from the human aspect of what transpired, that facing it was difficult; nevertheless, when she woke to an empty bed, Claire believed Tony was working through another situation that only he could fully comprehend. She willingly gave him his space.
Without a doubt—despite everything—Claire didn’t want to be without Tony, even for a short time. Her mind knew of his sins, but her heart had their future safe and secure. In her imagination, they’d live peacefully on the island for another year while the FBI built an iron clad case against Catherine. When they returned to the states, Tony’s testimony and honesty would earn him complete absolution. With his name clear, they’d move back to Iowa and live happily ever after. She imagined picnics at her lake, with her on a blanket while the gentle breeze rustled the leaves and Tony taught their son to fish. Claire knew it was a fantasy; but on many occasions it sustained her.
The softness of the baby blanket caressed her fingers as she gently rocked and contemplated their future. Claire truly had no idea what it would be like to be a mother. Could she do it? She didn’t know. She knew she didn’t want to do it alone. In the past, when her life took unforeseen turns, Claire had survived by concentrating on herself and her responses. Now everything was different. Life was about more than her—and more than Tony—it was about their child. As much as she longed for the perfect family, the uncertainty of their future loomed omnipresent. It was like a fog unexpectedly seeping into their daily lives, rolling in from the sea and filling the corners of a room. Perhaps that was why Claire loved sunshine; it dissipated the fog and made everything clear.
“Blaine.” Tony’s baritone voice permeated the haze and brought sunlight to the small nursery.
Claire freed her hands from the white baby blanket and smiled at her husband’s bright grin. “What?” she asked.
“I was looking at names online and found the name Blaine—I like it!”
“For a boy or a girl?”
Tony cocked his head to the side. “Can it be both?”
“I think, but I like it for a boy,” Claire murmured. “Blaine Rawlings...Yes, I like that, but I thought you wanted a name that could be shortened?”
“I did, but I think it sounds regal. We could call him B or something for short.”
