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.”
“What about Anthony for a middle name?”
Stifling a chuckle, Tony replied, “His initials would be BAR—I don’t think so.”
“It would be appropriate if he became a lawyer.”
“Or a drunk—yes, to Blaine—no, to Anthony.”
“Anton?”
Tony pressed his lips together and shook his head.
Claire shrugged. “Well, at least we’re closer.”
Tony knelt beside the rocking chair. “Francis made arrangements. After next week’s appointment with Dr. Gilbert, we’re staying in town.”
“I’d rather be here.”
“I’d rather have you there, closer to the doctor. As soon as you and our little one are declared healthy, we’ll come back.”
Claire knew from experience, some arguments would never be won. If Tony’s mind were set, rarely did she have a chance at changing it. “I should pack a few things.”
“Madeline has already packed a bag for us and for the baby—I mean, Blaine or...?
Claire grinned. “Alyssa?”
“Raquel?”
From a distance, the hum of an airplane infiltrated their consciousness. They both stilled and waited for it to pass. Soon, it became a roar, indicating its increased proximity to their island. Claire’s eyes widened. “Oh, do you think it’s Phil?”
Standing straight, Tony replied, “It better be.”
They made their way to the lanai, joined shortly by Madeline and Francis. When the small propeller plane came to a soft landing on the lagoon, Tony said, “I’ll go down to the beach.”
Claire’s days of excursions were done. Even walking to and from the beach was a struggle. In addition to her increased size, she’d lately been plagued by intermittent lower back pain.
Francis offered, “Monsieur, I’ll go with you.”
Tony nodded. The men disappeared into the vegetation as they walked the path toward the sea. Madeline commented, “Madame el, you should sit down.”
“Not yet. I want to see who gets out of that plane. I want to be sure it’s Phil.”
“Of course, who else would it be?”
That’s what worried Claire. Supposedly, they were hidden, but would it truly be that difficult for the FBI to find them? As she and Madeline watched, the door to the plane opened. At the sight of white hair, Claire exhaled.
“Now, Madame el, you can sit. The men will be up shortly.”
“I’ll sit. Can you please get us all iced tea?”
“Oui, be sure you put your feet up.”
It seemed as though Claire never lacked for people willing to tell her what to do. By the time she settled on the lounge chair, the men’s voices floated into range. Closing her eyes, she felt her smile grow. She couldn’t believe how excited she was to see Phil again. Although he’d only been gone from the island for two months, it seemed much longer; then, without warning, the voices faded as the plane’s roar momentarily drowned out all sound. Claire looked up in time to see the small white plane leave the lagoon.
When the three men stepped onto the lanai, Claire awkwardly stood. She couldn’t hide her happiness as she wrapped her arms around Phil with a welcoming embrace. “It’s so good to see you.” Tears glistened as her green eyes shone with sincerity. “Thank you for coming all the way back here.”
He leaned back and took in Claire’s appearance. “My, Mrs. Alexander, it appears as though you’re about to have a baby!”
“Really?” she said, putting pressure in the small of her back and arching her shoulders, “I hadn’t noticed. I thought I was just enjoying Madeline’s good cooking—a little too much.”
Tony laughed. Lowering his voice, he leaned toward Phil. “Be careful, someone—who shall remain nameless—has been increasingly sensitive lately.”
Claire eyed her husband. “After you carry around an extra twenty-five pounds in one hundred degree heat for months, then we’ll discuss being sensitive.”
The men smiled knowingly at one another.
“Fine,” Claire said with a feigned pout as she sat back down.
“Monsieur Roach?” Francis interrupted. “Would you like me to show you to your room?”
“Thank you, Francis, but if it’s the same one, I know the way.” Turning to Tony and Claire, he added, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get cleaned up after that long flight.”
Forgetting her sensitivity, Claire grinned. “Please make yourself at home. We’re so glad you’re here.” Phil excused himself while Madeline and Francis disappeared into the house. For a brief time, the newlyweds were alone.