Courtney nodded. “I’ve been trying to see her since she was first admitted. Each time I ask, I’m met with comments about not having visitors for her own good.”
After the wine arrived, Meredith walked Courtney through her three month journey—she shared everything. When she spoke about Claire’s original condition, Courtney was unable to suppress the tears. “I’d heard she wasn’t talking, but I had no idea it was that bad.”
Meredith told her about the recent change. “She wants to see you. I think she’s trying to put the pieces back together. She’s trying to recall what happened to get her where she is today. She also wants Nichol, but I can’t do anything about that. I thought maybe if you spoke with her. Maybe you could help her with some of the details. I mean, you were at the trial, right?”
“I was. What does she remember?”
“I’m not sure. One of her therapists told her to journal. She’s supposed to write about her feelings and things that happened. I haven’t read them; she hasn’t offered. Claire did say she’s writing about Tony.”
At the mention of his name, Courtney looked into her near empty glass. “I was told that if I were ever to get the opportunity to visit then his name couldn’t be mentioned.”
“As was I—it’s a documented means for immediate dismissal, but, well”—Meredith shrugged—“I broke that rule too. He was the topic that I believe brought her back. Oh, it was the medications that helped her hallucinations go away, but it was his name that pulled her back. She said she missed seeing him, and when I started recounting the stories she’d told me, it helped her remember.”
“I want to go”—Courtney’s blue eyes smiled—“I’ve been known to break a rule or two myself. Thank you for including me. I’m sorry I was so rude when you first arrived.”
“I understand. Despite all that the book has done for me and my family financially, if I could do it again, I wouldn’t write it.” After Meredith took a drink, she rephrased, “Maybe not. I mean, that knowledge helped me to help Claire, so I understand where you’re coming from, but it might have been written for this reason—who are we to know the grander scheme?”
Courtney shrugged. “How can we do this?”
With the animosity gone, the two women worked toward a common goal and brainstormed ideas. During their second or third glass of wine, Courtney and Meredith devised and tweaked their plan. Though it was almost October, the days were staying warm with a sunshine whose rays shone until early evening. Meredith would take Claire on a walk, and Courtney would join them at the far west end of the grounds. It would be a short hike for Courtney to park and meet them undetected, but she didn’t mind. As long as it didn’t rain, they planned a visit for the next evening. When they left the restaurant, Courtney hugged Meredith. “I can’t tell you how excited I am. Thank you for all you’ve done.” Still gripping her shoulders, Courtney’s speech slowed and she added, “And, if you use any of this to write another book, I will personally come after you.”
The late afternoon September sun glistened through the trees. Claire didn’t know why Meredith rushed her dinner. It wasn’t that she minded, but she could tell something was different. It wasn’t until they were away from Everwood’s immediate grounds and into the paths through the woods that Meredith finally explained, “I have a surprise for you. I hope you’re all right with it.”
Claire eyed her friend suspiciously. “I trust you; however, I’m just not a fan of surprises.”
“I think you will be this one time. I know Emily has made it difficult for you to reconnect with anyone.”
Claire exhaled. “Difficult is a nice word. I mean, I understand her reasoning with Nichol—I do. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see her. I think about her constantly. It’s just that I want to see others. It almost feels like—”
The squeeze of Meredith’s hands stopped Claire’s words. She saw a figure up ahead, through the darkening forest. Unconsciously, her steps slowed. Claire could tell it was a woman. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the numbers—suddenly, she realized she was counting her steps—twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five—She worked to block out the numbers and concentrate on the person ahead.
Claire continued walking.
Slowly, the figure came into view—the person took shape and her face became clear. Gasping—Claire realized it was Courtney—merely yards in front of her. She dropped Meredith’s hand and ran to her friend. By the time they embraced, tears covered both of their cheeks.
Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will .
—Mahatma Gandhi
Claire woke with a start. Blinded by the sunlight streaming through the unblocked window, she tried to focus. The split second of disorientation faded as she remembered they were at the Simmons’ home. Reaching for her husband, she found only an empty bed. Claire crawled to the end of the mattress and peered into the empty crib. Her eyes searched for a clock while questions bombarded her thoughts: How late had she slept? Why hadn’t Tony brought Nichol to her to feed? Was he still here or had he and Phil already left?
Panic boiled through her veins as she wrapped a robe around her nightgown and rushed toward the kitchen. By the time she reached her destination, tears teetered on her lids and breathing required thought; then all at once, the tension severed—her world was right. Tony was seated at the table, coffee in hand with Nichol in his arms. Phil was seated across from them as Courtney stood by the stove. The wonderful aroma of coffee and fried food filled the room as Courtney’s voice chatted on about nothing. Despite the worries of the world, Claire had entered the calm in the midst of a storm.
Hearing Claire enter, Tony looked up. Immediately, his expression darkened. “Claire, what’s the matter?”
Shaking her head, she exhaled the breath she hadn’t realize she’d been holding. “Nothing”—going to him and Nichol, she kissed his cheek and reached for their daughter—“I was afraid you’d already left for the estate.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he answered. Petting Nichol’s head, he straightened the fine strands of brown hair, and his tone lightened. “We were going to need to wake you soon. Someone was becoming impatient.”
Claire’s breasts ached as she settled into the nearby sun porch with Nichol. The windows offered a bright spring view. The earth had yet to wake from its winter nap, but the blue skies and warm rays of sunshine were promises of a greener world to come. The porch offered Claire modesty while keeping her close enough to hear the men discussing the logistics of the upcoming day.
Emily and John were due to arrive in Iowa around 3:00 PM—Eric filled Phil in on the itinerary, would keep them up-to-date, and promised to get them into the house unnoticed. While they talked options and scenarios, Claire had visions of a bad spy movie. Tony knew every inch of the estate—he explained entrances and exits while discussing security. For the first time, it seemed as though Tony wished he hadn’t installed the finest in security software.
Phil assured him, he’d check everything first. There wasn’t a security system he couldn’t disable or manipulate. With Tony’s intimate knowledge of the surroundings, Phil promised he could have it figured out in no time. Tony wanted to get to Catherine before the Vandersols arrived. His plan was to talk with her and stop anything from happening—before it even started. He had a valid concern that the Vandersols wouldn’t understand his presence, and, therefore, contact the authorities. Early intervention was safer for everyone.