“No, Madame el, it’s natural. It will not hurt the bébé.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Do you want Monsieur Rawlings?”
Closing her eyes to a momentary relief in the pain, Claire answered, “No, I’m feeling better. He and Phil can talk while I sleep.”
After Madeline left, darkness prevailed. Their normally open suite was now enclosed; its only source of illumination was the remnants of a clouded twilight penetrating the panes of the windows. Claire rearranged the pillows. With pressure in just the right area of her back, she found relief from the stabbing.
When Madeline returned, Claire drank the remedy she provided, all the while praying it would stay down. When alone again, she settled into her nest of pillows. Another flash of lightening brightened the room and she began to drift away...
Light filled their suite as Claire awoke. The morning noises greeted her as she looked out beyond the open doors to the beautiful blue water. Her arms reached out, stretching to relieve the stiffness of a long sleep. She felt more rested than she had in weeks or months. A full night’s sleep and the pain was gone. Lifting the soft sheet, Claire marveled at her own movements. It had been so long since she’d been capable of changing positions without concentration and effort.
On her left hand, the sparkling wedding band caught her eye. It was truly as spectacular as the first. As her bare feet touched the tile of the bathroom floor, Claire looked up to her reflection and the air left her lungs. Her hands immediately moved to her flattened midsection as panic boiled from within.
Unable to refrain, Claire fell to her knees and screamed Tony’s name. She yelled until the sobs within her chest wouldn’t allow her to articulate any longer. With her cheek against the cool tile, Claire heard the door to their suite open. “What happened? Where’s our baby?” The questions formed and started to flow until her eyes met gray.
It wasn’t Tony who’d entered the room—it was Catherine. Her gray eyes no longer appeared comforting; instead, Claire saw vengeance. She scrambled to her knees and tried to shut the door between the bedroom and bathroom. Catherine was quicker. Claire pushed the door with all her might, yet she was weak. When Catherine came around the door, Claire asked, “Why? Why are you here?”
Her voice cracked like an old vinyl album. “I own this island. It was bought with my money. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“No! You gave me access to the money. It’s mine—a gift.”
Catherine laughed. “I wouldn’t give a gift to a Nichols.”
Claire stood straight. “I’m also a Rawlings! Leave me alone!”
“A Nichols is all you are and will ever be—that’s all that stupid baby was too!”
Strength from an unknown source coursed through her veins. Claire lunged forward, her petite hands surrounding Catherine’s neck, pushing the front toward the back. Both women fell to the floor. “Where’s my baby?” Claire yelled.
Catherine pushed Claire away as Claire held on tightly and continued to squeeze. “With Anton.” Catherine spewed as she gasped for air.
“Where?”
Catherine’s eyes rolled back and her lids fluttered. Claire couldn’t kill her—not yet. She needed to know where Tony and the baby were. Releasing her grip, Claire asked again, “Where? Where are they?”
The gray eyes focused directly on her as her lips curved upward. “Gone. They’re all gone—you’re all alone! I’d kill you too, but...some fates are worse than death.”
The air, once again, left Claire’s lungs as Catherine’s words immobilized her. Through the haze and fog of disbelief, Claire struggled to stand.
Catherine was gone.
Claire was alone.
In the distance of the attached room, she heard the door close. It was as she opened the bathroom door that she heard the beep.
Looking toward the lanai, the sea was gone and so was their paradise. Instead, Claire’s surroundings came into focus. Golden drapes covered large windows. White woodwork and beige plush carpet surrounded her. The vibrant colors of the tropics were gone, replaced by muted, dulled tones. Claire peered beyond the drapes, past the French doors to a stark landscape. Skeletons of leafless trees and thick gray clouds were visible for miles.
Falling to her knees, Claire cried out. Her words were meant for the man who would never again hold her close and for the child she never met. “Gone! No, please God, no! Tony, Tony, Tony...” Eventually, the words faded into nothingness...
Nothingness is worse than gray—it’s nothing.