Convicted - Romig Aleatha (мир книг .TXT) 📗

There were also marked improvements in Claire’s appearance. Truthfully, it wouldn’t have taken much to enhance the lost vacant expression she’d possessed for so long. Just the addition of recognition to her green eyes made her appear a different person; then add hair color and some light make-up, and Claire Rawlings was back. Of course, no one referred to her that way—she was still Nichols as far as the staff at Everwood was concerned. As long as Emily was in control of her care—that wouldn’t change. Emily’s control was undeniably the cause of Meredith’s trembling hands. Claire was more than capable of making her own decisions, yet Emily’s power of attorney hadn’t been lifted.

It wasn’t that Claire’s demands were unreasonable—she wanted access to her daughter—to see her—to touch her—and to love her. The pictures of Nichol, that now decorated Claire’s more colorful room, were a blessing upon arrival; however, with each passing day, they served as a reminder of the beautiful young girl who remained two dimensional. Maybe it was too early—that was Emily’s continual answer to Claire. What if Claire relapsed? It wouldn’t be fair to Nichol.

While Claire’s desire to see Nichol sparked Meredith’s fury, it was Claire’s desire to see anyone that fueled the vehemence to the point of this impending phone call. Courtney Simmons’ number had been programmed into Meredith’s phone for a while; however, since the Vandersol’s were still unaware of her true identity—calling that number was a risk, perhaps even an invitation to a potential jail sentence.

Closing her eyes, Meredith remembered the tears of her friend only minutes earlier when Meredith exited Claire’s room. For two years, Claire had been unaware of her surroundings, yet content. In two weeks, she’d made phenomenal progress and experienced reoccurring disappointment. Although Meredith hadn’t left Everwood’s parking lot, she decided to throw caution to the wind, yet again. The corner of her phone read—8:57 PM. Swiping the screen, she found Courtney’s number and prayed. She couldn’t guarantee that her current willpower would be present tomorrow or even in ten minutes; Meredith needed to make the call now.

On the second ring, she heard Courtney’s voice, “Hello, this is Courtney.”

“Hello, Courtney, please don’t hang up. This is about Claire Rawlings.”

The momentary silence accelerated Meredith’s heartbeat. Finally, she heard, “Who is this?”

“My name is Meredith Rus—Banks.”

“Goodbye.”

Meredith spoke quickly, “Please, Courtney, I know you know who I am, but this isn’t about a story—it’s about Claire. She’s my friend too—and she needs you.” The words came so fast, Meredith hoped they were separated by enough space to make sense. When the line didn’t go dead, Meredith continued, “She’s doing much better. She’s asked for you.”

“How do you know this?”

“I’m in Cedar Rapids right now. Will you please meet me? I think it’s better if I explain in person.”

After what Meredith assumed was cautious deliberation, Courtney replied, “Fine, perhaps I should call John or Emil—”

“I know Emily hasn’t allowed you to visit. You don’t have any reason to believe me, but I can help you and Claire if you’ll please meet with me—alone. If you call them, I don’t know when you’ll be able to—”

This time, Courtney interrupted, “All right. Where can I meet you?”

Meredith remembered to breathe. “Thank you, I can be in Iowa City in...”

Short’s Burger and Shine was a popular bar, and although Meredith thought a drink to calm her nerves sounded like a good idea, that wasn’t the reason the two women had come to this particular establishment. Basically, it was a matter of convenience; the hour was late, and the small quaint pub on Clinton Street was open. When Meredith arrived, she saw Courtney seated at the last booth. The long, narrow room with the brick walls echoed with the sound of happy patrons; nevertheless, Courtney’s expression, as she watched Meredith approach, told Meredith that Courtney didn’t share the joyous elation of the others.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Meredith offered as she eased herself up the platform and into the hard booth.

“I’m not usually a rude person, but I hated your book, and I guess I’ve transferred those feelings to you. Tell me why I’m here and make it quick.”

Meredith momentarily looked down and took a deep breath. “I understand. This isn’t about my book, or even a new story, although I admit it started that way.”

Courtney raised her brow.

“About three months ago, I asked Emily’s permission to visit Claire. She denied me.”

Courtney nodded in agreement.

Meredith continued, “My goal was to learn the rest of the story. I guess I wanted to write something that would make Nichol proud of her parents.”

Courtney continued to listen silently.

“Since I couldn’t go to Everwood openly, I decided to apply for a job there. I did. I got it. Over time, I worked my way into Claire’s room as part of her dietary team.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a restraining order—”

The waitress interrupted, “Ladies, what can I get you?”

The thought of that drink was getting better and better. Finally, Meredith asked, “Can I get you something for joining me? Or are you leaving to pursue the violation of that order?”

Still somewhat stunned by Meredith’s open confession, Courtney answered, speaking to the young girl near the end of their table, “I’d like a glass of white Zen, please.”

Meredith added, “Make that two.” When the girl walked away, Meredith leaned forward. “Thank you, I knew it was a risk to come to you. You could turn me in to the police, to Everwood, or to the Vandersols, but if you don’t, maybe I can help you see Claire.”

Courtney nodded. “I’ve been trying to see her since she was first admitted. Each time I ask, I’m met with comments about not having visitors for her own good.”

After the wine arrived, Meredith walked Courtney through her three month journey—she shared everything. When she spoke about Claire’s original condition, Courtney was unable to suppress the tears. “I’d heard she wasn’t talking, but I had no idea it was that bad.”

Meredith told her about the recent change. “She wants to see you. I think she’s trying to put the pieces back together. She’s trying to recall what happened to get her where she is today. She also wants Nichol, but I can’t do anything about that. I thought maybe if you spoke with her. Maybe you could help her with some of the details. I mean, you were at the trial, right?”

“I was. What does she remember?”

“I’m not sure. One of her therapists told her to journal. She’s supposed to write about her feelings and things that happened. I haven’t read them; she hasn’t offered. Claire did say she’s writing about Tony.”

At the mention of his name, Courtney looked into her near empty glass. “I was told that if I were ever to get the opportunity to visit then his name couldn’t be mentioned.”

“As was I—it’s a documented means for immediate dismissal, but, well”—Meredith shrugged—“I broke that rule too. He was the topic that I believe brought her back. Oh, it was the medications that helped her hallucinations go away, but it was his name that pulled her back. She said she missed seeing him, and when I started recounting the stories she’d told me, it helped her remember.”

“I want to go”—Courtney’s blue eyes smiled—“I’ve been known to break a rule or two myself. Thank you for including me. I’m sorry I was so rude when you first arrived.”

“I understand. Despite all that the book has done for me and my family financially, if I could do it again, I wouldn’t write it.” After Meredith took a drink, she rephrased, “Maybe not. I mean, that knowledge helped me to help Claire, so I understand where you’re coming from, but it might have been written for this reason—who are we to know the grander scheme?”