She wanted to argue, but the swaying room and headache had her stomach in knots, or perhaps it was the thought of Tony’s deal. No matter the cause, she chose to press her lips together and stare up into her husband’s eyes.
“You need to sit back down.”
Her tongue remembered to speak. “I need to use the bathroom,” she retorted, followed by a decline for Tony’s help. When she returned to the bedroom, he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Before he could speak, she volunteered, “I don’t think I want to know about your call.”
“Baldwin isn’t our contact any longer.”
Claire exhaled. She didn’t have a choice—he was going to tell her anyway. Claire sat at the small table. The straight backed chairs helped her lower back. “He never should’ve been. It seems like an obvious conflict of interest.”
Tony nodded. “Are you feeling better?”
“Not really. Why would you make that call without talking to me about it first?”
“I had to do something.”
“Please, Tony, tell me what was said.”
“I thought you just said you didn’t want—”
“I don’t, all right?” her volume increased. “I don’t want you to make a deal—I don’t want you to confess anything to anyone—except to me”—Her voice cracked as tears rushed down her cheeks—“I don’t want to be without you—I don’t even care if it’s the right thing to do—I—I—we—need you!”
His resolve melted before her eyes as his defiant stance eased and his voice mellowed. “Claire, my God—this isn’t to hurt you or our baby—it’s to help you. Since I left Venice without contacting Baldwin, I’m officially a fugitive. In essence, you’re harboring a fugitive.”
“I—don’t care.”
Tony pulled Claire into his embrace. “I’m not leaving. I spoke to Agent Jackson. He’s the one I talked with in Boston. I told him that I’d make him a deal; I’d tell him about someone who I’ve helped over the years and confess my wrong doings—if the bureau would agree to allow me to turn myself in—in January of 2015.”
Claire pulled back and looked into Tony’s eyes. “2015—why?”
“We have a child coming in January. I asked for one year.”
“Did he agree?”
“He said it wasn’t in his power, but that he wanted to know what I knew.”
“Did you tell him?”
“Only the tip of the iceberg—I told him about Simon’s plane and that I knew for sure who killed my parents. I told him there was more, but I needed my deal first.”
Claire lifted her brow.
“I’m supposed to call back on Monday”—Tony added—“Today’s Saturday, but it’s still Friday in Boston.”
Claire grinned; it was difficult to keep track of days. She leaned into his chest and listened to the strong steady rhythm of his heart. “One year?”—She felt him nod—“I hope it goes very slowly.”
There is no greater misery than to recall a time when you were happy.
—Danté
September 12, 2016
Shit! It’s the only word that keeps coming to mind! I have a meeting in two days with the Vandersols! I’ve done everything to avoid this—minus quitting my job. I’ve had sick children, dead grandparents—none of it real. I think I’ve finally run out of personal tragedies. Ever since Claire started making progress, they’ve wanted to meet the “aide” who works “so well” with her. That’s according to Ms. Bali.
I’m about to go in for my shift, and Ms. Bali will be there. I’m sure she’ll ask if I’ll be there Thursday. The truth is—I’ve run out of ways to avoid it. I don’t want this to end. Lately, I’ve gone beyond mentioning Tony’s name. I’ve done homework; at night I’ve read—my book and my notes. I tried listening to audio recordings of Claire’s recollections. Hearing her voice, full of emotion, was too difficult; however, reading has helped refresh my memory of Claire’s life.
Then over the past month, whenever we’ve been alone, I’ve shared my research. I’ve recounted the stories she told me. I started with good memories, talking about her wedding and honeymoon. Over time, as I talked, I watched the stress leave her body. She’s even started eating by herself—as long as I talk. If I stop—so does she. I have no idea what results the doctors are getting.
After not liking Claire’s initial reaction to this new regime, I was afraid the Vandersol’s were going to stop the new protocol. Ms. Bali said they almost did. Apparently, there was some big blow-up between them and Dr. Fairfield. She said that Claire’s “wanting” to go outside with me was the small sliver of hope which persuaded them to allow the treatment to continue.