Convicted - Romig Aleatha (мир книг .TXT) 📗

“Did you enjoy your trip out East for Thanksgiving?”

Sophia nodded. “We did. It was short, but it was nice to see my in-laws.”

“Since you visited your husband’s parents for Thanksgiving, will you be traveling to your parents for Christmas?”

Sophia looked down. “No.”

Reassuringly, Marie’s hand covered Sophia’s. “I’m sorry, did I say something upsetting?”

“It’s all right. It’s just that...my parents are no longer with us.”

“Oh, my dear, I’m so very sorry. I won’t pry.”

Forcing a smile, Sophia sat straighter. “Really, it’s all right. I’ve—had wonderful parents, but t—they’ve only recently passed away, late last summer. It was a car accident.”

Marie shook her head. “I had no idea. I’m truly sorry.”

“Oh, my in-laws have been wonderful. It just takes...time.”

“Now, your husband—Derek—is that his name?”

Sophia nodded.

“Does he have siblings?”

Sophia went on to describe Derek’s family—he’s an only child—his parents were very anxious for them to add a branch or two to the family tree.

“How do you feel about that?” Marie asked.

Shrugging her shoulders, Sophia said, “We’ve been talking.”

Marie grinned. “I’m sure you know—that’s not how it happens.”

Sophia’s cheeks reddened. “Yes, I believe my mother gave me that talk, when I was quite young.”

After lunch, they walked through some of the college shops before parting for the afternoon. Later, when Sophia told Derek about her day, she wouldn’t remember the exact words of their conversation only that it flowed without effort.

With all Derek had happening with his new responsibilities, Sophia knew that he was pleased that she was getting out of the house and meeting people.

As the sun set below the horizon, and the lingering shadows cast their last shades of what might have been onto the isolated beach, a hand fell to Claire’s shoulder.

At first, she hesitated, unsure if the connection was real or imagined. When she could no longer decipher, Claire turned to see the face—the eyes—the man for whom she’d prayed.

Claire’s resolve melted with his touch. The sobs she’d been suppressing erupted as Tony pulled her up to his embrace.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you...” her words were barely audible behind the bellowing cries.

“Shhhh...” If he hadn’t been holding her, Claire wasn’t sure she’d have been able to stand. As she nestled near, his bare chest quivered with exertion. After a moment, they settled on the soft, warm sand.

“Did you ever reach the boat? Or did you finally swim back?” Claire asked, realizing the boat wasn’t in sight.

“It’s anchored around the bend.” He squeezed her tighter. “Believe me, I considered turning around, but I didn’t know which way was shorter the longer I swam; then, as I came back, I couldn’t tell which beach was which.”

“How long did you swim?”

Tony shook his head as a tired grin emerged across his lips. “A lot longer than I’d planned.”

She buried her head into his shoulder. “I kept praying and telling our baby you were safe, but...” the tears came back.

Smoothing her hair, he explained, “I contacted Francis. He knows where we are. He recommended we spend the night on the boat.”

“On the boat?” Claire questioned.

“Yes, we don’t want to be separated from it again, and there’s a small bed in the cabin under the deck.”

Claire nodded. She’d been below in the boat before—it was a calmer ride if the seas were rough.

“In the morning, when the sun comes up, I’ll get you home—I promise.”

She looked up to his tired eyes. “I don’t care where I am, as long as you’re there.” She struggled to stand. “Let’s go. You must be exhausted.”

Taking what was left of Madeline’s lunch time feast, they walked the shore around the bend. With the silver glow of moon light, Claire saw the boat only a short way out, bobbing silently in the virtually calm sea.

When they were both on board, Tony lifted the anchors and took them into slightly deeper water. “When the tide goes down, we don’t want to be marooned,” he explained.

Claire grinned. “I’m impressed. Who would have ever imagined Anthony Rawlings learning the ins and outs of marine navigation?”

Lowering the anchors once again, Tony purposely left slack in the rope. When he looked up and saw Claire’s questioning emerald eyes, he added, “See, Francis so nicely mentioned—perhaps I didn’t do that the first time.” Somewhat sheepishly, he added, “He’s right, I didn’t.”

She reached for Tony’s cheek. “I’ve said it before, and I still believe it’s true, you can teach—”

Tony interrupted, “My love, now that the adrenaline is gone, I definitely feel like that old dog. Let’s go below and get some sleep before the sun rises.”

If the cabin had been truly meant for sleeping—the designers didn’t plan for it to be shared by a 6’6” man and a pregnant woman. Regardless, Claire and Tony worked their way into the small space. The rhythmic bobbing of the boat was surprisingly comforting as Claire maneuvered herself in an effort to become comfortable. Once they were settled, Tony said, “Do you know what this reminds me of?”

“Sardines?”

She heard his laugh in the dark cabin. “No, I was thinking of our trip to Europe—the yacht on the Mediterranean.”

Her mind went back in time. It seemed like two other people in a different life. “I suppose if I pretend this four inch foam mattress is really a king sized bed and the ceiling is six feet above my head instead of two—”

Tony’s lips found hers, stopping her words. “Yes, there are a few differences.” Trailing the tips of his fingers along her shoulder and down her midsection as Claire lay on her side facing him, he continued, “Perhaps it’s the rocking of the waves, or the sweet sound of your breathing in my ear; regardless, it reminds me of then.”

“I suppose I can see a few similarities.”

“One day—one day we’ll go back, and the yacht we rent will have enough room for all of our children.”

Fighting, once again, to relieve the pressure in her lower back, Claire replied, “Children? I’m pretty sure the ultrasounds have only shown one baby.”

His voice fought the exhaustion to which his body had already surrendered. “Oh, but think how much fun it will be to create more...”

When his words turned to breathing, Claire kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Good night, Tony.”

He may have said it was her breathing that reminded him of the past, but it was his breathing that gave her hope for their future. Only hours earlier, the world turned gray—color was gone—now in the darkness of the boat’s cabin, Claire remembered the colors of the flowers Tony had picked. She saw the blue of the sunlit ocean and the greens of the plants. It didn’t matter that they weren’t in their bed or their room, all that mattered was that he was safe—she was safe—and they were together.

Intuition will tell the thinking mind where to look next.

—Jonas Salk

Harry conferred again with the Boston field office. Since their face-to-face meeting almost a month ago, Agent Baldwin was, again, fully assigned to the Sherman Nichols/Anthony Rawlings case; however, now it had the added dimension of Catherine Marie London Rawls. As much as Harry personally hated to admit that Rawlings’ cooperation and confessions fit perfectly into the Harry’s timeline, gaps still existed.

During his confessions, Rawlings recalled the death of his parents. He claimed an irrational commitment to his grandfather, as his reason for protecting Catherine London Rawls. His parents were gone; therefore, as a tribute to his grandfather, he did what he could do to save London from a life in prison. At the time, he believed his parents’ deaths were the result of an accident—a discussion that became heated and grew out of control. He knew at the time, there was a history of bad blood between Catherine and his parents. After his father, Samuel, had successfully voided Nathaniel and Catherine’s marriage, she’d been pushed to her limit. Rawlings tried to reach his parents first, hoping to utilize his stellar negotiation skills. He failed—not in the negotiation—in reaching his parents before Catherine.