Claire nodded in agreement. He believed he’d made a compromise. Truthfully, she’d won, yet if making his declaration helped Tony accept her company—she didn’t care. Claire didn’t want Catherine near Nichol either. Her priority was keeping both Nichol and Tony safe. After they assured Emily and John’s safety, Claire wanted her family back in paradise. Eventually, Tony would need to surrender to the FBI—it was inevitable, but she wanted her nine more months of paradise.
The last five months had been magical. Tony and Claire were finally partners with all the ups and downs accompanying those roles. They didn’t always agree; however, after a life with false conformity, they learned disagreeing wasn’t negative. It didn’t mean disobedience or insubordination; instead, it meant discussion, voicing opinions, perhaps arguing, and then making up. Even this last conversation illustrated their recently established equality. They’d faced the demons of their past and chosen a future.
Parenthood was an excellent induction—it took them both into uncharted waters—and evened the playing field—which admittedly had at one time been tilted in Tony’s favor. Every day with Nichol was an exciting new adventure. Claire didn’t want it to end any sooner than necessary. For the first time, she had her dream. It was the relationship she witnessed with her parents and grandparents. At one time, she believed happily ever after was outside of her reach. Now, it was her reality. She wasn’t ready for that to end. After all, it wasn’t supposed to end. The fairy tales her dad read to her as a child ended with—they lived happily ever after.
Claire wanted to believe that was the end of their story, but she feared it wasn’t.
That night, Claire lay in bed and listened to the sounds of her paradise. Unless she concentrated—the ever present surf, no longer registered. What brought the smile to her face and peace to her heart were the sounds coming from the attached nursery. The rockers of the chair creaked against the bamboo floor. Claire closed her eyes and pictured Tony holding Nichol.
Tonight, their daughter had made it all the way until 3:00 AM, before waking to eat. Before her cries registered to Claire, Tony was out of bed. Minutes later, he brought a freshly changed, cooing bundle to Claire. The middle of the night feeding was their special time. It was as if their room—their bed—and their family existed in a bubble which no outside force could penetrate; then, as was their routine, when Nichol’s belly was full, Tony told Claire to sleep, took their daughter to the attached nursery, and rocked her back to sleep.
Normally, Claire would drift away as his deep baritone voice spoke softly in the other room. Some nights, she’d try to listen to his words; however, sometimes she felt like an intruder on their private talks. Tonight, she gleaned words here and there as he lulled Nichol back to her world of slumber. The words that registered were Tony’s affirmations of devotion. She couldn’t help but notice that the word safe seemed to be tonight’s reoccurring theme. Claire twisted on the satin sheets realizing that hearing him repeat that word had the opposite effect on her.
When Tony finally climbed back to bed, Claire nuzzled against his chest. The lingering scent of cologne combined with a faint aroma of baby powder overpowered her senses. Her voice cracked as she tried to sound strong, “I love you.” She didn’t want him to know how scared she was. After all, she was the one who demanded to accompany him to the States.
Tony stroked her back and whispered, “I love you, too.” As if to reassure not only Claire but himself, he pulled her tighter and proclaimed, “It’ll all be all right. I won’t let anything happen to you or her.”
Claire nodded into his chest. She knew, even with his hushed tone, he meant every word, but at this moment, it wasn’t hers or Nichol’s safety Claire doubted. “What about you? Who’s keeping you safe and assuring your return?” Her tears ran onto his chest as she no longer attempted to feign strength. “I’m not just worried about Catherine”—her words came in snippets, interspersed with deep painful sobs—“what about the authorities?” “I don’t want to lose you,” “I don’t want this to end.”
Tony’s head fell against the headboard as he continued to rub circles on the soft exposed skin of her back. “I don’t deserve to be kept safe.”
She sat up and stared at him through the darkness. “Don’t you dare say that!”
“It’s true. I’ve done awful things, and I deserve to pay for them.”
“Tony, please stop.”