Tony tenderly wiped it away. “Why are you crying?”
Her words came between ragged breaths. “I don’t think this is right.” “If I’m in labor, then I should feel something.” “My water broke.” “It isn’t safe for the baby not to be born.” She looked back to Madeline, “Why am I not contracting?”
Madeline answered truthfully, “I do not know, but you will. Your baby will want to come out.”
The lines around Tony’s eyes deepened. “I’ll go to town. I can’t ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do.”
Claire grasped his hand. “No! No you won’t. I don’t want Phil or Francis risking their lives either, but under no circumstance are you allowed to leave me.” Not bothering to smile, Claire added, “This is not debatable.”
His grin twitched, and he whispered close to her ear, “Do you want me to get the satin mask?”
She tried to suppress her smile; however, suppression of any kind was impossible. Her emotions were too raw. The days of figurative masks were gone. With her emerald eyes shining, she replied, “Maybe later, but right now, you’re not leaving me!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tony looked up to Madeline. “Do you think she should eat?”
Claire remembered the night before. “I don’t want to. Last night, I threw up after dinner.”
“Madame el, you can drink? No?”
“Yes, Madeline, I can drink.”
“I’ll be back.”
When Madeline opened the door, Claire saw Phil and Francis standing just through the opening. Suddenly, she remembered modesty. Looking down to her feet, Claire realized she wore a nightgown that she didn’t remember putting on and was covered with a sheet. “Please let Phil and Francis come in for a minute. They look worried.”
Tony kissed Claire’s forehead as he fought to stand. Sitting on the floor all night appeared to have stiffened his muscles as well. “My dear, we were all concerned.”
It was nice to have everyone near. Claire wished for the doctor, but the camaraderie was much better than being alone. Francis explained that, although the forecast wasn’t promising, if a break occurred in the weather, he’d take the boat to Dr. Gilbert. If he couldn’t help Madame el and her bébé in that way, he’d do what he’d been doing all night—he’d pray. When he squeezed Claire’s hand, the tension from the storm and impending labor dissipated. The sunshine of faith overpowered the fog of doubt.
After Francis reassured Claire and Tony, he slipped from the room. When Madeline entered with a concoction of fruit juices, Claire noticed Phil. Since he hadn’t spoken, she hadn’t been aware of his presence. With his arms crossed over his chest, he’d been leaning against the wall, observing. Claire reached out her hand. “Phil, I didn’t see you. Please come over here.”
His steps were dutiful and painstakingly slow. In all the time she’d known Phil, she’d never seen his current expression. It wasn’t anger—she saw that the day he found Harry in their hotel suite. It wasn’t concern—she saw that multiple times as they worked to hide. Claire wasn’t sure what it was. When he reached her hand, Claire was the one to reassure. Squeezing his, she said, “I’m fine, Phil. The baby’s fine. Please don’t risk your life to get the doctor. We’ll be all right.”
He didn’t speak—he nodded. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with the whole intimacy of the situation. He’d seen her in a nightgown before; however, this was understandably different.
Claire looked to Tony. When their eyes met, Tony repeated Claire’s words, “If anyone’s risking their life to get the doctor, it will be me.” Tony looked back to Claire, “However, at this point, no one will.”
She exhaled.
After Claire drank most of Madeline’s fruit juice, Tony helped her stand. She read somewhere that walking could help induce labor. Her first stop was the bathroom; she wanted to be clean. When she turned to close the door, Tony entered. “I’m not leaving you alone. You’re stuck with me.”
Claire smiled. “Thank you.” There were some things that were difficult to ask, but when they were offered or demanded, it was comforting. At that moment, Claire was thankful for her demanding husband.
By midafternoon, the rain stopped, the sky began to clear, and patches of blue infiltrated the gray sky. As evening approached the blue dominated, even as the wind continued to howl. The sound of surf filled their ears as the normally calm lagoon produced waves with white tops.
With Claire’s arm in Tony’s, they walked the length of the lanai and back again. Claire didn’t believe anyone else had slept, yet no one complained. It was during their fourth or fifth lap when Phil approached. “Excuse me, Francis believes we have enough time to get to town and back before dark.”
Claire looked anxiously toward Tony. The contractions had come back; however, they weren’t occurring with any sense of regularity. Thankfully, they also weren’t in her back—they were a tightening that encompassed her entire midsection. Claire wouldn’t authorize a venture that could harm the people she loved. Reaching out, Claire took Phil’s hand. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
His neck straightened, and his tone sounded formal. “Mrs. Rawlings, I can assure you, I’ve had more difficult assignments than a boat ride in the tropics of the South Pacific.”
Tony nodded. When he began to speak, Claire gripped his arm. Both men looked to her as she closed her eyes and repeatedly exhaled.
Perhaps there was an unspoken connection between Phil and Tony. Both men wanted to help, needed to help, yet felt helpless. This was Phil’s chance to do something—for Claire. Tony replied, “Be safe—and be fast.” Claire didn’t argue. When she opened her eyes, she saw Phil’s nod before he hurried away.
Moments later, the distant roar of the boat’s motor filtered through the reverberating sound of the surf. Claire grasped Tony’s arm again—the contractions were getting closer.
Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.
—Stephenie Meyer, New Moon
When Meredith left her husband Thursday morning, she couldn’t stop the tears. He didn’t want her to go, but he didn’t argue. He hadn’t been married to his college sweetheart for ten years without understanding her desires. Avoiding the scheduled meeting would be the equivalent of the first story Meredith wrote about Claire. It would be lying and cheating—very ironic, considering the stance she was about to support as truth—was in fact—a lie.
It took Meredith a moment in the parking lot to regain her composure, but summoning all her strength, she pushed the thoughts of her children and husband aside and concentrated on Claire. The meeting would be short-lived; as soon as Emily saw her, it would be over. Her only hope was that she’d be released on bail. Unbeknownst to Meredith, her husband was spending the morning securing their assets in anticipation of such a call.
She wished she could tell everyone the progress Claire had made; however, Meredith wouldn’t do that. She’d promised Claire she wouldn’t tell anyone, and she wouldn’t let her down again.
Making her way to the conference room on the first floor of the doctor’s tower, Meredith had a fleeting feeling of pity for Ms. Bali. Yesterday, her supervisor was almost giddy about this meeting. It was unusual for someone as low as a food aide to be recognized for contribution to a patient’s care. Having the family and lead doctor desiring to speak with someone under Ms. Bali’s supervision was the biggest compliment she’d received in over twenty years. Before Meredith went to Claire’s room yesterday afternoon, Ms. Bali went on and on about the years of under appreciation. Meredith hypothesized this meeting was why she received a mere verbal reprimand for keeping Claire out so late the other night. Among her other prayers, Meredith hoped Ms. Bali wouldn’t be penalized for hiring someone with false credentials.