Claire woke up to darkness. She wasn’t wearing her mask; the darkness was the time of day—or more accurately—night. This was her new routine; waking two to three times a night to accommodate their growing baby. Sometimes, when she looked in the mirror, Claire wondered if her skin could possibly stretch any farther. The changes to her body only confirmed the miracle living within her—well that, and the reaffirming movements of their child. She enjoyed the sensation of their baby’s movements. Claire told herself, if she were still alone, she’d feel the same way about her growing midsection; however, Tony’s constant reassurance made each pound and stretch mark easier to bear. It amazed her how he could sit for hours with his hands on their child. Often, she’d be in front of him on a lounge chair with her back against his chest. Sometimes they talked; often she napped; at times they read, but they were always connected.
When Claire returned to bed, it was empty. Looking to the clock, she saw it was only 3:18 A.M. “Tony?” she called to the open air—No answer. “Tony?” she called again as she stepped onto the lanai.
He was standing near the railing, looking out to the lagoon. In the distant sky, lightening flashed, and seconds later, the low rumble of thunder rolled through the night air. Wrapping her arms around his back, Claire laid her cheek against his warm bare back.
“Hmmmm,” he said as he seized her arms and pulled her in front of him. “You need your sleep.” His lips brushed her lips. “You should go back to bed.”
“I don’t like being alone.”
Placing a quick kiss on her stomach, Tony smiled. “You’re not.”
“Why are you out here?”
With his arm around her waist, he caressed the satin of her nightgown as his palm dipped down over her round behind. “I heard the thunder. Do you think the storm will make it here?”
Claire shrugged. “I don’t know. Francis talked about the storms and rough seas, but so far, all I’ve experienced have been afternoon showers. They seem to pop up, out of nowhere and disappear just as fast.”
“Come now, Mrs. Rawlings, you’re a meteorologist; will that storm make it to our island?”
“Well, you see, if I had a computer with the right programs where I could assess wind speed, direction, and see the different fronts—”
His lips seized hers—stopping her words. When he spoke again, it wasn’t about weather, “You really do need to go back to bed.”
There was something in his voice. Claire couldn’t determine the meaning or decipher its origin. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” He smiled and stood taller. “Good night, Mrs. Rawlings.”
Claire took his hand and led him back to their room. When they were both under the soft, satin sheet, Claire cuddled close and asked, “Please tell me what woke you, and I know it wasn’t a low distant rumble of thunder.”
“You woke me when you got out of bed.”
She lifted her head to her elbow and looked down at her husband. His skin was darker from only a few weeks on the island. It was his eyes that held her attention. They contained the multi-tasking look she knew too well. “Fine, I woke you. Sorry. What made you go outside?”
The tips of his lips moved upward. “Will you take the answer—thunder?”
Claire shook her head. “No, I won’t. Remember our promise?”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“A lot that you don’t want to share?”
Tony exhaled. “I don’t want to tell you anything you’re not ready to hear; however, talking about everything has brought back memories I’d forgotten. Sometimes I feel like I’m talking about another person”—he paused—“a person I’m no longer proud to have been.”
Claire rested her head on his shoulder and gently wove her fingers through his chest hair. Tony’s eyes stared up to the dark ceiling as his voice resonated distantly, overflowing with pain. Although there were times Tony’s confessions upset her, Claire knew in her heart that there was nothing she could say that would punish him more than he was already punishing himself.