“That’s your baby’s heart beating.” The sound reminded Claire of the calming swoosh of waves on the shore of her lake in Iowa. Dr. Sizemore continued, “The heartbeat isn’t detectable until six weeks Estimated Gestational Age. According to my measurements, Ms. Nichols, you are seven weeks pregnant, give or take a day.”
Claire laid her head on the soft pillow of the exam table. Upon the ceiling there was a picture of three adorable babies, all smiling down at Claire. Her eyes filled with tears as she closed out the world and considered her feelings. If the baby were Harry’s it’d be so much easier. Or would it? Is easy what Claire desired? Tony claimed to still love her. Harry never said he loved her. But then again, could she trust Tony after all he’d done? She needed answers. She needed to know more about the man she’d once married, the man whose baby she now carried.
The doctor pushed a button and printed copies of the ultrasound screen. Instinctively Claire knew who she wanted to see these pictures. With a new determination, Claire realized she couldn’t wait to be in Iowa and talk with the woman who’d supported her and could hopefully answer her questions. Claire couldn’t wait to talk with Catherine.
There is sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness
but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief
and of unspeakable love.
-- Washington Irving
Chapter 42
The BMW stopped momentarily at the front entrance as the large iron gates opened. It had been seventeen months since Claire had been on Tony’s property. The last time she watched these gates open was that fateful day in January of 2012, the day she drove away. Her heart rate quickened as the car navigated the winding drive. Being early June, the lush vegetation allowed only the occasional ray of sunshine to break through the canopy of leaves, creating a strobe effect as they neared their destination. When the trees cleared and the vista opened, the house before her took Claire’s breath away. She remembered its grandeur. However, with time, memories fade. The stately reality flourished in its full glory. Had this mansion really been her home? The combination of brick, riverstone, and limestone stood a paragon of Tony’s affluence. Or perhaps, Claire wondered, was it a monument to Nathaniel Rawls, Tony’s grandfather? After all, it did resemble the picture of Tony’s childhood home.
Claire struggled to contain her increasing anxiety while Eric pulled the car onto the brickyard in front of the steps. He had met her at the airport and chauffeured her to the mansion. Although she was still unhappy with Eric’s physical persuasion last week in San Francisco, his presence was comforting. After all, he too was a steady presence in her past. Nonetheless, his words as he opened the rear door increased her growing fretfulness. Bowing slightly he said, “Welcome home, ma’am.”
Her expression revealed her surprise. “Eric, I am visiting.”
“Yes, Ms. Claire. I will make sure your bags are in your room as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.”
Veiled in the shadow of the house, her heels stalled upon the brickyard. Turning a circle, she took in the countryside. The bright blue sky and various shades of green created a palate of color contrasting the landscape of Palo Alto. She inhaled the warm clear air as she stalled, facing the towering front doors and insurmountable steps. Did she really want to willingly enter this house? Moments passed as she stood frozen in time. Though she willed her body to move forward, her feet remained steadfast. Rising emotions paralyzed her. She stood motionless when suddenly the massive door opened and her heart melted. Standing within the frame of the threshold was the woman Claire longed to see.
Catherine’s smile prompted tears to trickle from Claire’s green eyes. Claire wanted to go up the steps, but her feet refused to move. Lowering her head, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the sobs within her chest. Her shoulders shook with intense anguish.
Unexpectedly, a comforting embrace surrounded Claire. Her head settled onto Catherine’s shoulder, as Catherine’s arms encircled her petite frame. Stroking Claire’s hair, Catherine murmured, “Ms. Claire, it is all right. I’m here.”
At first Claire could only nod into Catherine’s blouse. Finally Claire reached into her purse, retrieved a tissue, and wiped her eyes and nose. “I’m sorry, Catherine. I’ve just missed you so much.”
The two women embraced. “Oh, Ms. Claire, I have missed you, too. Please come in the house and let us get you settled.”
Claire willingly followed. How many times had Claire confidently followed this woman despite lurking apprehension?