He didn’t know about her life with Mr. Rawlings. Somehow, whenever the subject came up, she eloquently changed it. Now the churning in his gut told him why. This petite, funny, friendly, pretty, delicate, kind woman in front of him was hurt. Maybe, just maybe, it was only a broken heart.
It has been said, people drawn to law enforcement have a sixth sense, an ability to see what others do not. He prayed he was wrong. His sixth sense said there was much more than a broken heart in Claire’s past.
Harry pushed his questions away, “Your right, I do need to get into the office. Are you still going to Mr. Pulvara’s?”
“Yes, my appointment is at eleven. I really need to get ready.”
“I’m sorry if I overstepped some bounds. I won’t push you; it’s none of my business.” The haze covering her eyes evaporated; the emerald green began to shine. Harry added, “If you need anything, you know my cell.”
She smiled up at him and sighed, “Thanks, Harry, see you later.” She turned toward the hall, speaking over her shoulder. “Please lock the door on your way out.”
Claire closed the bedroom door with the weight of her shoulders. The glossy wood felt smooth behind her head. She strained to hear the sound of the front door close and lock. The still coolness of her room filled her lungs. After enough time passed, Claire allowed more warm tears to flow. Her trembling hand pushed the small button on her door knob. She produced a mental checklist: security guard, locked front door, and locked bedroom door – was it enough? Suddenly chilled, Claire wrapped her arms around her torso and felt the shuddering of her chest as sobs resonated uncontrollably. After a few minutes she blinked away the moisture, tried desperately to calm her unsteady hands, and sent Emily and Courtney a text: GOT YOUR MESSAGE. THANKS. IM GOOD. CALL WHEN YOU CAN. I LOVE YOU TOO.
Hot water pelted her upturned face as she stepped into the shower. The sensation of warmth flowed over her. Slowly, the heaviness washed away from her soul. By the time her feet hit the tile floor her thoughts centered on the future. The past was gone. She had survived. She wasn’t the same woman Anthony Rawlings took three years ago.
As Claire exited the elevator with her telephones in tow she inhaled the unique scents of the parking garage. Easing herself into the leather driver’s seat of her car, she relished her new found independence. Yes, life threw her some obstacles; she was stronger for them.
The GPS instructed her to turn right from the garage. The morning fog had begun to dissipate revealing patches of pale blue sky. She turned her Honda into traffic and thought about the jewelry inside her purse. Her lips turned upward as she pondered the value and remembered Anthony’s perpetuity for appearance. This time, she hoped it would work in her favor.
Light thinks it travels faster than anything, but it is wrong.
No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first,
and is waiting for it.
- Terry Pratchett.
Chapter 4
Sophia watched her husband pack his suitcase. “Derek, I just got back from Florence. Can’t you stay home?”
“I told you, they want to meet me face-to-face.”
Sophia sighed and smoothed the t-shirts he’d so precisely placed into the bag. It was so different from the way she packed. But then again, they were different. Some of their friends called them Darma and Greg. Looking at Derek’s suits, pressed shirts, and cuff links, they definitely had different styles. However, those differences brought them together and kept them united.
Her bare feet allowed her head to fit perfectly under her husband’s chin. Standing to wrap her arms around Derek’s neck she smiled lovingly, “I know, just please hurry home.”
His light brown eyes mellowed as he stared into her tender expression. “I’ll come back as soon as the interview process is done.”
“Tell me again, who are these people, and why do they want you?”
Derek tipped his head to Sophia’s and grinned, “I’ve told you. You just don’t listen.”
Her hands wandered down the buttons of his white silk shirt. “Maybe it’s because I get distracted. I keep thinking about wanting you for myself.”
“I think you’re trying to distract me so I’ll miss my flight.”
“Oh, well, so you leave tomorrow, instead of tonight.” She nibbled his neck, “Would that be so bad?”
Punctuality was Derek’s thing, not Sophia’s. She was a free soul -- an artist. Perfect for her personality, she could work, sketching and painting, whenever the impulse hit. Sometimes that was three in the morning. Often Derek would wake to find her covered in chalk dust, still wearing the night gown she’d worn to bed.
Despite their differences, their love was intense, passionate, and real.
*****
Just south of thirty, Sophia had given up on happily-ever-after. She’d had her share of romances, but something always seemed to intervene. Most of the time, it was her art. There were few men willing to take a backseat to a sketch pad.
If she chose to reminisce, there was one man that met her requirements. He did a great job smoozing with investors, but honestly preferred spending time alone with her. He understood her art and said everything right. However, as time passed, their goals grew incompatible. It was as if he could see her dream, but it didn’t matter. He wanted things she didn’t understand. One day he received an unbelievable job offer, requiring travel. They promised to stay in touch. The final act proved lonely.
Then unexpectedly in December of 2010, her life changed -- she met Derek at a mutual friend’s Christmas party. It happened so fast. In January of 2011 they married-- a whirlwind elopement to Paris. Sophia shared her affection for Europe and memories of Paris while working on her Master’s degree. Derek surprised her with a prearranged wedding. They exchanged vows in the park at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. Afterwards, they dined in a small French cafe with their witnesses. Derek secretly flew both of their sets of parents to Paris. It was the dream wedding she’d given up ever having.
Occasionally, her love of art and a desire for self-promotion required her to travel for art exhibitions. Personally, her art was gaining notoriety. Recently, she’d accepted an invitation to exhibit her work at the Florence Academy of Art during a three week exhibition. Although she didn’t like leaving Derek, they both knew this was a remarkable offer.
And now that she was home again, in Provincetown, Massachusetts, it was Derek’s turn to follow a remarkable offer. Shedis-tics, a software Fortune 500 company in Santa Clara, California, recently contacted him. The parent company, Rawlings Industries, wanted this branch of its empire to be again in the top 100. They believed Derek could help them achieve that goal.
It wasn’t that he didn’t already have a great job and career. He did, in Boston for a major electronics company. Everything was going so well. He was satisfied with his career, and Sophia was happy in the community she loved. That all changed when he received the phone call from a Shedis-tics’ representative. The contact person told Derek he came highly recommended. Now -- he wanted more.
Truly, the offer seemed too good to be true. Unsolicited propositions rarely happen in today’s economy. He was rightly cautious; however, after days of research Derek found everything with Shedis-tics legitimate. He also reasoned the new job would allow him the ability to greater support his wife’s passions. Even with notoriety, art didn’t pay well. Derek loved her passion and wanted to make her every dream come true.