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  Recently conversation hadn’t been Claire’s norm. So sitting with Amber and being asked something so personal, something that could impact their relationship, frightened her. Claire believed her answer could cost her the one person willing to help her plight. She hesitated, “I hadn’t seen Simon since our freshman year of college, until he came to see me in Chicago.”

  “I know that. But, what I want to know is if you loved him.”

  Claire bowed her head. The day was too much -- too many changes. She couldn’t summon a mask to disguise her true emotions. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes saddened, though too tired for tears. “I thought I did. When we were at Valparaiso, I believed in fairy tales. I believed in forever. When he left for his internship, I expected him to return. When he didn’t, I expected an invitation to join him. It broke my heart I never got one.” Claire began to stand, believing Amber would no longer want her to stay. “When I saw him in Chicago, I remembered those feelings. Simon’s love was unconditional. You don’t know what I went through with Tony, but unconditional is not a word I’d use to describe it.” Claire hesitated, looked out the large window and saw the quiet tree lined street, four stories below, illuminated by old fashioned light poles. Although Amber remained silent, Claire no longer held eye contact, “Seeing him that day made me sad. I didn’t know about you. Honestly, I didn’t ask if he were married or engaged. I just knew the love of someone like Simon was something I’d never experience again. I knew I’d missed out on something real, and I’d never know it.” Claire pushed the stool under the counter. “Thank you for getting me out of Iowa. Once I cash the check, I’ll reimburse you. I’ll try to find somewhere to stay tonight.”

  “Why are you leaving?” Amber’s surprised expression echoed her words.

  “After what I just said, don’t you want me to go?”

  Amber walked around the table and faced Claire. The two women were so different and yet so alike: both brunettes, Amber a little taller with brown eyes and Claire more petite with green eyes. Although both were under thirty, life had dealt them more sadness than they deserved. “No, I don’t.” Claire staggered backwards in surprise. She couldn’t take more emotion in one day. “Simon loved you. If his love was unrequited I could easily hate you. But, if his love was reciprocated, if you truly loved him in return, even ten years ago, then all I can do is all I can do.”

  Claire stared at the woman before her. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “I’m saying,” she reached for Claire’s hand, “I want you to stay here or at least in Palo Alto, and I want to help you find a life.” Amber widened her smile. “I want to understand more about your ex-husband, but not tonight. I want to help you do whatever you feel is necessary to repay him for his actions, whether that is revenge or just showing him you can exist without him. I want to honor Simon by having the two women who loved him unite in a common bond.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry the two of you didn’t get the chance to marry. If I had anything to do with that, I’m truly sorry.” Claire held the chair for support.

  “Simon had to do with that. Not you. It was just the man he was. Don’t feel too guilty. We were friends and colleagues for years; our romance was blossoming. I’ve been blessed to have Simon in my life. Even without marriage he provided for me forever. Please let me share some of that with you.”

  “Thank you, but I never want to be dependent upon anyone again. I need to be my own person.”

  “That’s great. If I can help you do that, I’d be honored. Will you let me help you get on your feet?”

  Claire thought about her life. Everyone she knew before her marriage was gone. Even her sister was alienated. The friends she acquired during her time with Tony were frightened or truly believed she tried to kill Tony. She and Courtney had clandestine contact. Tony’s influence knew few bounds. Had there been anyone who wanted to help her, just her? “Are you a patient person?” Claire asked.

  Amber’s lips and eyes revealed a smile fighting for exposure. “I’ve been told I have problems in that area.”

  Claire returned her smile, “I’m glad to hear you don’t have a halo. I was beginning to wonder.”

  “Oh hell, just stick around. You’ll learn more about the horns that expose themselves occasionally.”

  “I’m willing to accept your help to get me back on my feet. I hate that I need it, but I know I do… thank you.”

  As Claire fell asleep that night she marveled at her new situation. Life had dealt her many changes – this one left her exhausted, eager, and filled with warmth.

  *****

  Those pleasant feelings continued as she once again sat at the kitchen table, trying to make sense of her life. A little after five in the morning, Amber sleepily found her way into the kitchen. “Good morning, I’m not used to having a roommate. The light startled me.”

  “I’m sorry. The time difference made me wake early.”

  “Don’t you want coffee?” Amber asked as she selected a small cup and placed it in the top of the machine. Next she pushed a few buttons and the machine came to life. Slowly, Claire walked over to the counter.

  “I’m afraid you may have bitten off more than anyone can chew. Apparently, I don’t even know how to make coffee.”

  Amber laughed, “These are kind of new. The hardest part is deciding your flavor.”

  Claire explained she should call her sister before news of her release hit the media. Amber brought Claire her laptop, “This is to look up your sister’s number. You’re also welcome to use the telephone and call whomever you want.” Claire considered the possibility of unlimited access. Undoubtedly, she would require help with more than just coffee.

  Emily’s number was unpublished, but Claire remembered it was listed on the information from the prison. Of course, Emily was her emergency contact. Listening to the telephone ring she prayed she’d catch her sister before Emily left for work. It was after eight in Indiana. As the answering machine began to speak, Claire hung-up. She didn’t want to leave a message. What if Emily’s line was monitored? Claire knew she sounded paranoid. But, how does the saying go? Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone’s not out to get you.

  While Amber readied for work, Claire continued to browse the laptop. There was so much information literally at her fingers tips. Amber’s internet was much faster than the one at the prison. Claire was lost in cyberspace when sounds came from the living room. Someone had entered the front door of the condo.

  Walking casually into the kitchen, in worn jeans, a white t-shirt, and bare feet was a handsome man. His blonde hair fell in messy waves, and his face held the telltale shadow of someone who’d yet to shave. Not knowing what to do, Claire sat quietly and watched as he walked in a sleepy haze toward the mysterious coffee maker. After engineering the machine like a pro, he turned toward the table and saw Claire. His smile extended to his cheeks creating small lines around his light blue eyes. “Oh, hello, you must be Claire.” He casually leaned against the counter and took her in.

  Suddenly she felt underdressed. Not like she needed to be formal, just more clothes than a t-shirt and shorts. Claire couldn’t help notice his firm lean body, long legs, and obvious level of comfort. “Yes, I am. I’m also at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” Other than guards, she hadn’t spoken to a man in a longtime. She suddenly realized this man must be Amber’s new romance. She couldn’t help but think Amber moved on rather quickly. It wasn’t a judgmental thought, more an observation. Especially after last night’s conversation regarding their common bond with Simon. Claire also realized she should stop staring in his direction. He may be handsome, but the last thing Claire wanted to do was cause problems between Amber and her beau.

  Offering his hand, he walked forward, “So sorry, my name is Harry. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “Finally?” She responded as she shook his hand and recovered her own quickly.

 
“Well, I’ve heard all about you since you contacted Amber months ago.”

  As Harry spoke, Amber returned to the kitchen. She no longer looked like the stylish casual woman of last night or the sleepy robe wearing woman of earlier. Instead, she personified Ms. McCoy, CEO of SiJo Gaming. Everything from her attire to her long hair twisted into a knot at the back of her neck said professional. Truthfully Claire wondered if she’d been met by this Amber at the airport, would she have felt intimidated. That thought faded faster than the smoke from an extinguished candle when Amber spoke. Her voice brimmed with unabashed joy and enthusiasm. “Claire, I see you’ve met my brother. Harry lives down the hall and thinks mooching off of me is easier than buying his own groceries.” She smiled as she gave her brother a flittering kiss on the cheek.

  He smiled in return, “I just really like your coffee maker.”

  “And my cereal, and my toast, and my…” Laughter interlaced Amber’s words. Claire tried to soak in their joviality. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced such a refreshing atmosphere.

  Sipping her own coffee, Claire asked, “What do you do, Harry? You don’t seem as ready for work as Amber.”

  Amber laughed again, “What do you mean? That is about as dressed up as he gets.”

  “Hey, that’s not true. I wear shoes -- sometimes.” He winked at Claire. She felt herself blush. She didn’t know why, and neither of the others seemed to notice.

  “Well, for the next few days my job is you.” He said as he took his coffee to the table. Sitting in the chair opposite Claire, he gazed into her stare.

  This time she blushed, “Me? What do you mean?”

  Amber answered, “I hope you don’t mind. I’d like to be the one to help you get things started here in California, but I’ve got a lot happening at work. There’s a new launch about to take place. Harry on the other hand has more flexibility with his job. I asked him to help you do whatever you need.”

  Claire thought for a moment. “Thank you, Harry. I guess I need to decide what that is.”

  Sipping his coffee, he offered, “I’m in no rush. But, I was thinking you’ll need more identification; so you should request a copy of your birth certificate. Once that arrives you can do things like open a bank account. After that, the possibilities are limitless.”

  “A telephone.” Claire said dreamily, “I’d like to get a telephone.”

  Harry and Amber smiled at one another. He replied, “That can be our first mission.” Neither understood how monumental the common piece of technology would be to Claire.

  Lost in her new thoughts Claire continued, “And some clothes. But that can wait until after the bank account.”

  Amber offered Claire a loan to help her get started. Claire hesitated, but knowing she had the cashier’s check, she relented, “After I get the birth certificate, can I get a California driver’s license?”

  “Can you drive?” Harry asked jokingly.

  Claire nodded.

  “Then, I don’t see why not.” Harry answered.

  Claire’s emerald eyes glowed with anticipation. Who would have thought, she’d have a new home, in California. “So how do I get the birth certificate?”

  “How about we eat some of Amber’s breakfast foods first?”

  Walking toward her bedroom Amber called back to the kitchen, “See what I mean?”

  The secret to getting away with lying

  is believing it with all your heart, that goes for lying to yourself

  even more so than lying to another.

  - Elizabeth Bear

  Chapter 3

  Jane Allyson watched the snow and rain pelt the window of her small yet distinguished office. The mixture melted the scene of downtown Des Moines into a sad impressionistic painting. She wanted to concentrate on cases at hand. She had more than enough work to keep her busy, but her mind continually went back to Claire Nichols.

  Late the other evening, Jane’s private cell rang. Only a week and a half since she’d watched Ms. Nichols fade into a sea of unknown faces, on the other side of security at the Des Moines International Airport, she heard Claire’s positive tone. They didn’t talk long, but Claire’s unspoken message was louder than her words.

  She was settled, making a life, and doing well. She also told Jane she mailed her a check for her services. What she didn’t say, but Jane heard loud and clear, was a regained resolve. Wherever Claire was, she was emerging from the depths of the past three years – a butterfly finally emerging from the encased cocoon.

  It was like Jane could hear the determination her client held during her interviews at the courthouse in Iowa City in 2011. Although Jane moved on to other clients, she could close her eyes and see Claire Rawlings at the steel table, recounting her tortured life with Anthony Rawlings. At the time, Jane felt overwhelmed with compassion and respect for the petite woman. Many victims were unable to share details like the ones Claire described, especially against such a respected assailant. Yet, with each sentence, Mrs. Rawlings grew in stature.

  None of it mattered. After the prosecutor, Marcus Evergreen, wove his web around Claire’s testimony, she wisely chose incarceration over courtroom drama and further public scrutiny. Despite her circumstances, when the judge proclaimed the final sentence, Claire Nichols accepted the words with dignity and strength.

  During the recent telephone call, Jane didn’t just sense renewed determination. She heard hope and optimism, qualities Ms. Nichols lost. They never discussed Claire’s final destination. Jane believed it was better not to know – plausible deniability.

  As she stared at the frigid Iowa morning, Jane didn’t regret filing Claire’s pardon petition. Jane believed, no matter the consequences, freeing Claire Nichols was the right motion. Thankfully, after some debate, the partners of her firm agreed.

  Earlier this morning, while readying for work, Jane saw Claire’s face on the local news. Two weeks after the fact -- the news of her release was out. Jane couldn’t contain her smile. She didn’t know how Governor Bosley kept it quiet so long, but Jane was thankful.

  Word was, Richard Bosley was fading fast -- stage four B pancreatic cancer, metastized to his bones.

  Settling into her leather chair, Jane sipped warm coffee and contemplated her impending meeting. Her earlier joy diminished as she entered her office greeted with multiple urgent messages from Anthony Rawlings’ secretary. Apparently, Mr. Rawlings learned of Claire’s release last night, prior to the news release.

  His secretary asked Jane to travel immediately to Iowa City for a meeting with Mr. Rawlings. Jane smiled, wondering how many people drop everything at such a summons. Jane respectfully informed the woman she was involved in very important cases and would need to check her schedule. After a prolonged silence, during which Jane stared aimlessly out her large window contemplating the grey skies and chances of rain, Jane informed the secretary she would be available to make a trip to Iowa City -- a week from Thursday. The woman was obviously dismayed by Jane’s refusal to fall prostrate to the great Anthony Rawlings.

  A few minutes later Jane’s phone rang. This time it wasn’t a request. Mr. Rawlings’ secretary informed Jane Mr. Rawlings would be at her office by ten this morning. Jane thought about stalling the meeting, saying she was busy. But, she decided she wanted to see her client’s ex-husband for another reason. She believed Mr. Rawlings’ demeanor would reveal if he were the anonymous benefactor.

  If Jane sensed Mr. Rawlings wasn’t Claire’s savior, she wouldn’t mention the origins of the petition. The benefactor would remain a mystery.

  Tearing Jane from her thoughts, her assistant’s voice broke through the speaker, “Ms. Allyson, Mr. Rawlings is here, accompanied by his attorney Mr. Simmons.”

  Jane took a deep breath and exhaled. “Please send them in.”

  Seeing the strained expression on the entrepreneur’s face, Jane knew immediately; Mr. Rawlings did not send her the letter. He obviously came expecting answers. She had to wonder, if it wasn’t h
im, then who?

  “Hello, Mr. Rawlings, Mr. Simmons,” she nodded at the men as they entered her office. “Please have a seat.” She motioned to the two chairs sitting opposite her desk. Although probably not as grand as theirs, this was her office and Jane would take the seat of honor. Closing the door she returned to her leather chair. “Now gentleman, to what do I owe this honor?”

  Mr. Simmons spoke first, “It has just recently come to my client’s attention, on March 8th you filed a petition with then Governor Bosley requesting a pardon for Claire Nichols.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “My client would like to know why this was filed, on what grounds, and who approached you to make this request.”

  “Gentleman, Ms. Nichols was never convicted of a crime. She pled no contest. That was not an admission of guilt. She’s had an impeccable record during incarceration. Truthfully, she’s the poster child for pardons. And, as for who hired me, I’m sure you’re familiar with the term confidential.”

  “Why was I not notified?” Apparently, Mr. Rawlings couldn’t restrain himself any longer.

  “Why would you be?”

  “For my safety. She tried to kill me.”

  “Have you been threatened,” Jane leaned forward, “since her release?”

  “No. I just learned of her release last night.”

  “It appears as though you needn’t be concerned. She’s had two weeks to finish what you claim she started,” Jane grinned, “and it seems you’re still with us.”

  Mr. Rawlings fought to keep his expression indifferent.

  Mr. Simmons continued the enquiry. “Do you know where Ms. Nichols relocated? For my client’s safety he should be informed.”