Behind His Eyes - Convicted: The Missing Years (36 page)

Brent listened. Finally, he said, “Why don’t you let her decide?”

“Because don’t you understand? I fucked up her mind. She thinks she’s in love with me, because I made her think that. I did that. I took away her world. I didn’t just make her the center of mine: I made me the center of hers. She’s got this warped sense of who I am—who we are. It’s not real.” Tony leaned back. “Think about you and Courtney. You’ve been married for what, thirty years?”

Brent nodded, “About.”

“All right, if you knew it was better for her to be without you, what would you do?”

“It’s not better for Claire to be without you.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked, what would you do?”

“I’d do what was best for her,” Brent admitted.

“I’ve been a selfish bastard most of my life. I’m not saying I want to leave Claire with nothing, like I did before. I want her to have everything she’ll ever need or want. She can have the estate and enough money to keep everything going. Hell, I’ll pay child support and alimony. I want her to have the new house and a place to raise Nichol. I won’t fight her for custody or visitation. Remember what the judge said? He said I was a danger to them. I’ve done some awful things. They deserve better.”

Brent shook his head. “I don’t agree with you. I think she’ll need you. She’ll need your support. Tony, I hope to hell she gets better. But if she doesn’t, you’d be a selfish son-of-a-bitch to divorce her while she’s in Everwood.”

Tony closed his eyes. “You’re right. I want her out of there. I can’t get her out as long as I’m in here or if I’m not her husband. Work it out that I can make her world as right as possible. If my application for early release goes well, and I get out, I want to get her out of that place. I’ll pay for whatever care she needs at home. We’ll get Nichol back to Claire, then…”

“I’ll get the preliminary petition filled out, but I don’t want to file for your divorce, again,” Brent said.

“One in a million,” Tony said.

“Fine, those odds suck,” Brent admitted. “Tell me the odds of one man taking an idea he started with a friend and turning it into a successful company that employs people all over the world.”

Tony shrugged.

“Tell me the odds of someone finding a woman who loves him enough to not only forgive him for the crazy shit he’s done, but love him, and give him one of the most beautiful, intelligent, and funny little girls I’ve ever seen.” Brent stared. “Unless you’re fuck’n planning to go to Vegas, I don’t give a damn about the odds. I care that Claire gets well. I care that you get out of here. And I care that the little girl with her daddy’s brown eyes, can have her mom and her dad in the next room so that when she wakes up crying from a bad dream, you both go running in to comfort her.” Tony looked away, but Brent kept going. “Yeah, I’d do what was best for Courtney, but it wouldn’t be a unilateral decision. We’d talk about it. I’ll start your damn paperwork. Just don’t ask me to actually file it.”

By the time Brent stepped from the room, he was sure that his blood pressure was though the roof and that his best friend was making a terrible mistake. Well, it wasn’t the first mistake his friend had made. It wasn’t even the first time he’d made this particular mistake. Maybe, just maybe, Brent could convince him to never file.

The memory faded as Brent rejoined the conversation and listened as Courtney continued to describe the house. “Wait until you see Nichol’s room! It is fit for a princess.”

“I can’t wait. I can’t wait to get out of here and see anything,” Tony said.

Brent nodded. “I’m hopeful that it will happen sooner rather than later. The only step is the final review. Your acceptance of the terms of the community service was the last hurdle. Now, we just need to wait. I got the impression they were encouraged, by your record here and your history of philanthropic support. You pled guilty. In prison you’ve had a job, taken classes, and gone to counseling. You’ve even agreed to further counseling once you’re released. You’re established in your community. It’s very promising.”

“Yes, look at me. I’m the model prisoner,” Tony said sarcastically. “I’m not sure I want to put my hopes in the final unit review. I’ve been screwed before.”

“Faith,” Courtney said, “have faith. Think about Claire. Three weeks ago, she wasn’t talking. Now, she’s doing so well. I just know everything will work out.”

“I hope you’re right,” Tony said.

“Have you ever known me to be wrong?” Courtney asked with a smirk.

While at work, Brent received the call. Tony’s early release had been approved. In fifteen days, Tony would be able to walk out of Yankton, a free man. After calling Courtney, he began filing his petitions. The first was to revoke Emily’s power of attorney. With doctors’ statements regarding Claire’s recent improvement, he didn’t anticipate that being a problem. The next was Family Court. Whether Tony thought his family needed to be together or not, Brent surely did. He wouldn’t stop until he got Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings full custody of their minor daughter.

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.

—Lewis B. Smedes

As the plane ascended, Tony sighed at the overwhelming sense of freedom. From his Armani suit and Italian loafers to the glass of Johnnie Walker in his hand, Anthony Rawlings felt his true self re-emerging. No longer was he subjugated to the people around him. He had power: power to move mountains. He also knew that he would never again step foot inside of a federal prison. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever step foot in South Dakota again. It wasn’t that he intended to forget his experience—Tony didn’t know if that was even possible. He did intend to move beyond it.

It was this exhilarating sense of freedom that he wanted for Claire, too. “When can we get Claire?”

“We could go tonight, but it’ll be late. I recommend we go tomorrow morning. From what Meredith told Courtney—”

Tony shook his head. “That’s still the strangest turn of events I’ve ever heard. Who’d have thought that I’d ever feel indebted to Meredith Banks?”

“I know, right? Courtney was skeptical, until Meredith got her to Claire. Cort said that she could tell that Claire and Meredith had a mutual admiration. Meredith has risked a lot to continue this charade. Claire told Courtney that her first memories of coming out of her fog were hearing Meredith’s voice, hearing her talk about
you
.”

Tony took another drink of bourbon. “I can’t believe she thought she killed me. I can see how traumatic that would be. No wonder she tried to block that out. Hell, I don’t know what I’d do if I thought I’d killed her.” Memories of a dark night in her suite came rushing back. “Actually, I do know. It’s something I never want to experience again.”

Changing the subject, Brent handed Tony a folder. “Here’s the report from the child psychologist I hired in Iowa City. She’s very reputable and having her involved helped the court’s decision regarding custody of Nichol.”

Tony took the file and scanned the first page. He saw the recommendation for weekly family-therapy sessions. Damn, he also had agreed to weekly anger-management sessions in order to facilitate his early release. “I thought I was going to get away from all this psychobabble bullshit.”

Brent smirked. “I don’t think that’ll happen for a very long time. Besides, I still don’t believe you’re thinking straight.”

Tony’s eyes darkened. “Don’t go there. I’m not reconsidering. Do you have the copy of the petition for divorce?”

Brent handed him an envelope. “I have the petition, but I’m not filing it.”

“I don’t want you to file it—not yet. Not until we get Claire home. I’m anxious to see her, but I think tomorrow is best. That’ll give me some time to get everything ready.”

“I agree tomorrow is better. I was going to say earlier that Meredith told Courtney that Emily visits in the morning. That’s why Meredith works the later shift, to avoid her.”

“I don’t want to avoid her,” Tony proclaimed.

Brent nodded as a smile filled his face. “That’s why I think tomorrow will be better. You won’t be sneaking in. You’ll be going in and setting the record straight. In my opinion, if she’s present, it’ll help with the aftershocks.”

“You’re damn right. I’m not
sneaking
in. Claire’s my wife, and I’m exercising my rights as a free man.”

Brent’s brows peaked in question.

“She is currently my wife.” He tapped the breast pocket of his jacket. “This will come in the future, but for now, she’s my wife.” Tony didn’t care for the look Brent was sending his way, but it wouldn’t change his plans. Claire deserved to be free. She’d been through too much in her life, and all of it could be traced back to him.

“The house is perfect,” Brent said. “Courtney’s spent more time over there recently than she has at home. Between the decorators and her touch, I think you’ll both love it.”

“Is Eric meeting us at the airport?”

Brent grinned. “Yes, just like old times, but the rest of the staff that Courtney hired for the estate are new. She interviewed every one of them.”

“Roach?”

“He’ll be at the estate. I thought you’d like to see him in person.”

Tony nodded and sipped more of the amber liquid. It’d been over two years since he’d had a drop of alcohol: the aroma alone was enough to tingle his skin. The burning sensation as he swallowed rekindled the glorious feeling of weightlessness. Damn, he was glad to be back.

Eric was exactly as he’d always been. The only difference was his unusually large smile as Tony and Brent descended the plane’s steps. Well, that and the vigorous handshake. Truly, Tony didn’t mind. He’d retained Eric and Roach for the same reason. They weren’t just part of his past: he wanted them in his future and in Claire’s. They’d proven their loyalty over and over. Tony had proven his, too. No matter what the DA or US Attorney offered, Tony refused to name either of them as having knowledge of his activities. Of course, the prosecution had their suspicions, but without confirmation, that was all they had.

Tony didn’t care if he were riding in a sedan or a limousine—it just felt great to be moving, going from place to place. When Eric drove the limousine through the iron gates of his estate, a feeling of anticipation, as well as one of dread, rushed over Tony. It had been a long time since he’d been on his property. After the repairs had been made on the house, Tony realized how much he hated it. That was why he’d spent so many nights sleeping on the couch in his office. Now, he wanted to like the new house. He wanted to give Claire a fresh start with new, happy memories, but until he saw the house with his own two eyes, he didn’t know if that was possible.

The colorful fall trees parted and the dread disappeared. The house was so different, so new. His gaze transfixed on the grand white-brick home. That was what he saw: a home. Not a house. Not a monument. Tony didn’t wait for Eric: he opened his door and stood before the home. Though in the last two and a half years, he’d only seen his daughter in pictures, he imagined her running the length of the porch and dancing around the large columns. He saw an enclosed porch and pictured Claire sitting there, reading and enjoying the fresh breeze. It was perfect.

Tony’s main request during the construction was to make it open and airy. Never again would anyone keep Claire from the sun or the moon. Never again would she feel trapped. Jim had been right. Her future was her choice. She could sell this place if she wanted, but Tony had done everything in his power to make her not want to sell.

“Mr. Rawlings, would you like to enter your new home?” Eric asked, as he opened the front door. Tony had expected for it to be empty, not of furniture, but of people. Instead, he was greeted by his new staff. One by one, they introduced themselves. Courtney had thought of everything, from the estate manager, to a cook, and the cleaning staff. Even the head groundskeeper was present. When he introduced himself, Tony almost asked him about some flowers he’d seen in the front of the house, next to the mums. He’d never seen them before and worried that they wouldn’t be hardy enough for the cooler nights. Then he stopped himself. Anthony Rawlings, Number 01657-3452, was a gardener, not Anthony Rawlings, CEO of Rawlings Industries. He had other, more pressing matters.