A Changed Life (33 page)

“Aunt Grace was my biggest advocate when it came to pursuing my dreams. She always argued with my mom about allowing me to make my own decisions for my future. Mom and dad set up a plan for my brothers, and one for me. My brothers complied, and I rebelled. My whole perspective changed when I met you Nicolette. You were like the missing piece to a puzzle that I had been searching for, and then I found you. I can’t even begin to explain how I have envisioned our future together. No matter what happens, we have to stay together. I don’t want anyone else, because you Nicolette, are my puzzle piece. We have been connected from the first day we met. Please… say something Nicolette. I need you to breathe, and tell me what you are feeling, and not thinking.”

Holding my head in my hands and not looking at him. “I don’t want to hurt you, Simon.”

“What do you mean baby?” He started to look worried when I turned away from him. “I love you Simon, you know I do. I can’t be with you in the way you want to be with me. Look what I have done to you. I don’t think you realize what you are sacrificing by being with me. Once you seriously think things through, you will figure out I’m not worth it. You will find someone worthy of your love and forget about me.”

“Nicolette, I know what you are doing, and for the last time it’s not going to work.” Simon was hurt, and I was the cause of his pain. I started to walk toward the door, and he pulled me back. I’m not going to let you walk out this time. I know exactly what I want, and who I want. It’s you, Nicolette Elizabeth Vanelle! I see the girl before me that I love, and who I want to share my life with. None of that can happen unless you trust me unconditionally. Nicolette, I’m asking you, do you trust me? You have to be honest with me, no matter what.”

I couldn’t look at Simon. He had the power of seeing through the window of my soul. If he looks at me now, I’m going to shatter. “Nicolette,” his voice rose higher. Please answer my question. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Simon. I trust you.”

Simon crashed his lips onto mine, and ran his tongue up and down my neck with heated want. I was undeniably in love with this man, and there was no more doubt. Simon was willing to offer me the world. Anything I wanted, and the first test of our relationship, I was willing to throw it all back at him. My fear was holding me back, not my love for Simon. In the short time we have known each other, Simon knew me inside and out. I trusted Simon completely. It was time to break down my walls, and finally believe in what I have known all along.

We kissed and kissed, and he repeatedly told me that he loved me and cherished me. I said those words back to him. Simon deserved nothing less from me. We finally pulled away from each other, and I wanted to make love to him. I could feel his want for me, and we both knew I was not ready for the next step. I was still recovering from my attack. My physical injuries were still visible, and still had a long way to go. I never was scared of Simon’s touch, even after the rape. He was the only one that truly could comfort me.

“Are we ok now?” Simon playfully asked me. “Yes, we are.” I replied back with a smile before the reality of today settled in.

“We have so much to talk about Simon. I’m pregnant with Michael’s baby, and I can’t even fathom what to do about this.”

“How do you feel about being pregnant?”

“I’m eighteen years old, Simon. I never wanted this for me. I also didn’t expect to be raped. This baby deserves so much more than what I could give him or her. If I keep this baby, he or she will be a constant reminder of Michael, and what he did to me. How is that fair for the child?”

“It’s not fair, Nicolette. Children should always come from love. If you look at it from another way, maybe it will help you come to a decision. I agree with you that this baby was not conceived in a manner it should have been. What Michael did was selfish and cruel. He never for one second took in account how his actions would change your life. When I look at you, Nicolette, all I see is a remarkable young woman, who is incredibly strong and full of life. You have so much love in your heart, and I know you will be an incredible mom.”

“Michael took something from you, and you need to reclaim it back. He may have taken your body that night, but he didn’t take who you are. After everything you suffered at his hands, you still found the courage to fight him back. Do you even realize where that strength came from? That courage came from within your spirit and heart. Now you have this incredible miracle growing inside of you. It doesn’t belong to Michael, it belongs to you. This baby will grow inside of you, feel your love, grow from your strength, and become an extraordinary person because of you. I can promise you here today, that whatever you decide, I will always be by your side, and accept what you want to do.”

I let out a deep breath, and I placed my head down on Simon’s lap. I couldn’t tell him what I was feeling, because I just didn’t know. I needed some time to think. Simon knew I needed some space, and he gave it to me. Simon carried me upstairs to one of the bedrooms, and placed me down onto the large king sized bed. He kissed my cheek and whispered, “Sleep baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.” I drifted off as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Are you my mommy?
I hear over and over again. A shy timid voice calling out to me in my dreams, but I can’t see a face. All I see is a shadow surrounded by a beautiful bright shining light, and I hear the voice again.
Are you my mommy?
I feel like I am being strangled within this dream. I’m begging to wake up from it until I hear my name being called out to me. I am jolted awake from my sleep.

Simon is holding me by my arms with his worried eyes looking back at me. “Baby, are you ok? Were you having a nightmare? I heard you screaming from downstairs.” I started to shiver. I was suddenly cold, and Simon wrapped a blanket around me and asked me about my dream. I could only tell him that I heard a child’s voice asking me if I was his mommy. I kept hearing the question over and over again. Simon hugged me and asked me to come downstairs. He had lunch prepared for me, and we ate outside on the deck looking out to the ocean. It was a breathtaking sight. My mom had phoned me while I was sleeping. Simon told her I was ok, and I would call her back when I woke up. They all wanted to know where we were, but Simon did not tell them. He just said not to worry, and I was safe. Of course I was because I was with Simon.

“My mom probably has called your parents, asking where we are.”

“I’m sure she did, but they don’t even know. My parents flew out this morning to visit my brothers. I guess I was driving them crazy, and they needed a break.” Simon laughed as he tossed another fry into his mouth.

Simon asked me if I had thought about anything while I was resting. Other than having that weird dream, I honestly said, “no”. I knew I couldn’t go through with ending the pregnancy. Whether I wanted to keep the baby, or give it up for adoption seemed foreign to me. I wasn’t ready to make any decisions yet. “Nicolette, you have plenty of time to decide.” Simon assured me.

“What about Michael? If he finds out that I’m pregnant, won’t he want rights to the baby?” Simon’s facial expression hardened. “Michael lost the right to anything the moment he decided to hurt you. Do not worry about him Nicolette. I will never let him hurt you or this child.” I believed every word Simon said to me. I finally submitted to him, and put my life and heart into his hands. I’m sure our parents don’t believe how we feel for one another on account on how young we are. We don’t care what they think, because our age did not matter. The love we feel for one another has linked us forever as one heart and one soul.

Sitting here day after day in this cell was grating on my nerves. I needed to get out of here, and return to the comforts of my lifestyle. I know my surroundings could be worse if I am convicted of raping Nicolette. I could be sent to prison for years, and that thought was horrifying to me. I can’t forget that night with Nicolette.
Why couldn’t she just be with me, and give us a chance to see where it would lead?

I was so angry with my father for wanting to send me away. The smug bastard never even asked me how I felt. Avoiding our issues and tucking them away was easier than to deal with them. I wasn’t his problem to solve. I’m his son! He was supposed to love me, and be the father he was before my mother had died.

Back then Clayton St. Clair was devoted to his family. He had always worked hard and that accompanied many long hours in the office. He knew how to separate his personal life and work life. When my father returned home to us, he left his work at the office. My parents’ marriage was strong, and they always showed their love for one another. It didn’t matter if it was in public or private, never caring who was around.

I remember my mother in her final days battling breast cancer. I spent every waking minute with her, and we talked about everything she thought I needed to know. My mother was heartbroken that she wouldn’t be around to witness the momentous times of my life. Graduating from high school, and of course, my dad was a no-show. He had sent his secretary in his place. No subject was off limits with my mom. I loved her so much, and I was just in awe of her undeniable strength she had within.

Mom knew her cancer had progressed, and she was running out of time. She had settled all her affairs, and took care of all her funeral arrangements beforehand. My father was sickened when mom sat us down to explain her plans to us.

Lydia St. Clair was a force to be reckoned with, she held our family together. My father and I held her hands the night she died. The family we knew and had drawn strength from, died along with her.

My mother didn’t want a big production of a funeral, and she instructed she only wanted close family and friends at her service. She didn’t want the media coverage present. This would be hard enough for my father and I, and mom didn’t want our grief played out for the world to see.

My mother’s family was extremely wealthy, so she never had to work a day in her life. She graduated from Yale University with top honors in Art and Italian History. My mother loved Italy, and we visited Florence on many occasions. Mom always had told me that she wanted to teach, and pass her love and passion for the arts onto willing students who wanted to learn. When my mother met my father, they fell instantly in love, and she followed him and his dreams, instead of her own.

My mother never complained, she was happy being a wife, and mother. She devoted countless hours to her favorite charity groups, always supported the arts, and especially in public schools. My father was always pretentious, and he frowned upon this. My mother ignored his snobbery. Although she was immensely wealthy in her own right, her parents raised her to always pay it forward, and never take what you have for granted. She never did.

Lydia St. Clair was so beautiful, and kind. I cursed the heavens when she died, looking for answers.
Why was my mother taken from me?
I never understood how the doctors couldn’t cure her. I would give and do anything to have her back. If she could see me now, sitting here in jail, she would be so disappointed in me. Memories of my mother were making me physically sick. She raised me better than this, and how did I get to this point? I thrashed around on that lumpy cot, until I got up and started to pace around my cell.

My anger got the best of me, and I was filled with grief on how I hurt Nicolette. All I wanted to do was love her.
Did I actually do what I’m being accused of?
At the time, I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. My feelings for Nicolette consumed me twenty four hours a day, and she was all I wanted for the first time since my mother had died. With the adrenaline pulsing through my veins, I punched the concrete wall that surrounded me. I looked down to my bloodied broken hand as I cried out in pain until a guard heard my screams.

It was Detective Westphall whom I saw when I looked up from the floor.
Oh great, this guy hates me. He won’t care that I’m hurt.
The detective just looked at me with disgust, and called for a medic to take a look at my hand. One arrived fifteen minutes later to conclude that my hand was broken, and I would need to go to the hospital.