In the face of the storm, otherwise known as Nathaniel, Sharron calmed the winds, rains, and rough waters. His entire life, Samuel wondered how she did it. Rarely, did he ever witness a disagreement between them. Superficially, she appeared to submit to his every demand. Yet, there were times when they looked at one another and Samuel knew, without confrontation, Sharron had made her feelings and desires known.
Samuel failed miserably in that category. He didn’t have the ability to communicate nonverbally with his egotistical father. Their confrontations were predictably loud and boisterous. Perhaps, it was a two way street. Nathaniel needed to want that communication. He accepted the glances and body language from his wife, but not from anyone else, even his only son.
Samuel believed his parent’s union had a history of rough patches, yet Sharron never complained. And now, as her mental facilities slowed, hell – derailed -- the reality in which she chose to dwell was not that of a mother, or grandmother, or even a wealthy businessman’s wife. She saw the world as it had been when she and Nathaniel were first married. She looked at her handsome, yet aging husband and saw the twenty year old soldier she loved.
Samuel supposed on some level, he resented Anton for looking so much like his father. It wasn’t as though Anton could control his genetics. That would be Samuel’s doing as well. It was only that when Sharron looked at Anton, she smiled so sweetly and her eyes melted into the liquid calm reserved for her true love. Yes, it was Nathaniel she saw. Nonetheless, she never asked Anton his name; she only called him Nathaniel.
How in the world Samuel found Amanda, and had forged out some semblance of normalcy was beyond him. Talk about nature verses nurture -- shit, he was screwed either way. Peering at his son, Samuel prayed Amanda’s influence would overpower the messed up Rawls blood flowing through Anton’s veins.
Yes, although the mother he once knew was rarely visible, Samuel knew Sharron’s influence was his saving grace. Therefore, if this young girl helped Sharron transition from her world of make-believe to the present, maybe Samuel could learn to accept her.
A friend is someone who understands your past,
believes in your future, and accepts you
for who you are today.
--Unknown
Chapter 12
The warm gulf water lapped the shore, as the soft, moist sand enveloped their bare feet, and the sun bathed their tanned skin. Clad in swim suits, Claire and Courtney picked up the occasional shell as they walked along the beach. Although the third morning of their secret get-a-way, neither friend had run out of things to share.
Their reunion was everything Claire imagined and more. When Claire arrived late Tuesday night, or early Wednesday morning, to their rendezvous suite, Courtney was anxiously waiting.
Courtney hadn’t changed. Her bright blue eyes and brown hair were exactly as Claire remembered. Courtney jokingly said, “Honey, my hair is only the same because my beautician hasn’t decided to change colors!”
Claire’s commercial flight to San Antonio took almost four hours. Flying first class, she reasoned was a gradual downgrade from private jets. She also knew some reporter could take her picture, and the penniless thing was getting on her nerves. After landing in San Antonio, she secured a rental car, drove to the Hotel Valencia Riverwalk, and checked into her suite. It was truly beautiful, complete with a balcony overlooking the famous San Antonio Riverwalk. While there, she messed up the bed and threw some towels into the whirlpool tub. It kind of looks lived in. She thought, as she made her way back to her rental car.
Next, she drove two and a half hours to Corpus Christi. Along the way she stopped for a healthy McDonald’s salad, anything fast to get her to Courtney. Thankfully the rental car’s built-in GPS directed her around an accident on I-37, south around Mathis. The voice knew about the back-up. And although rerouting added about thirty minutes, it was better than sitting in stand still traffic. By the time Claire reached their hotel, it was almost two in the morning, local time.
Just like her suite in San Antonio, the floor of their suite was only accessible with a key. Claire’s key was waiting for her at the front desk, under the name Julia. (Courtney’s future daughter-in-law)
When Claire opened the door and stepped onto the tiled entry, she heard the familiar scream resonating from one of the two bedrooms. She barely had time to see the lovely white living area and brightly colored furniture before her entire body was encased in Courtney’s full embrace. In no time, their joyous reunion became tearful. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation; more than likely, it was their eighteen month separation and the circumstances surrounding it.
Leaving her unpacking until morning, the two sat on the sofa, knee to knee and talked until dawn. Their conversation focused more on the future than the past. There would be plenty of time for that as the week progressed.
Courtney told Claire all about the preparations for Caleb and Julia’s upcoming nuptials. She desperately wanted to have Claire attend the event; however, as long as their relationship remained secret, they both knew it wouldn’t happen. Courtney also told Claire about Caleb’s recent entrepreneur endeavor. “He’s doing very well in Chicago. It’s an investment firm and he already has some great clients.”
Claire couldn’t hide her surprise, “I’m shocked he’d want to leave Rawlings. I mean with Brent and Tony’s friendship, I’d think Caleb’s future would be set. Tony always liked your children.”
“Tony was very supportive. Being an entrepreneur himself, I think he admired Caleb’s desire to succeed on his own.”
Somewhere deep inside, Claire thought: Yes, I’m glad he can be understanding... I know it’s possible, just not usual! “I’m glad it’s working out.”
Claire told Courtney all about California, Amber, and Harry. Of course, they’d discussed much of this on the phone, but face-to-face was so much nicer. The subject of Claire’s financial backing slipped into the conversation as they talked about some of the recent reports of Claire’s life. She assured Courtney she wasn’t living with Harry, and she wasn’t penniless. She even divulged the information about the mysterious $100,000.
“Where do you think it came from?” Courtney asked as she sipped her wine. It was their second bottle of Cabernet, something which likely added to their honesty and freedom of dialogue.
“I really don’t know. It’s weird. At first, both Jane and I feared it was from Tony.”
“Why’d you think that?”
“Well, who else has that kind of money to throw away?”
“Good point, but maybe the donor didn’t feel they were throwing it away?”
Claire smiled, “I hope not. Whoever it was, I can never thank them enough. They gave me my life back.” She continued thoughtfully, “Prison wasn’t as bad as it could have been – I guess. I kept to myself a lot.” Claire fell silent as she gazed out the dark balcony doors to the still black sky.
Courtney put her hand on Claire’s knee, “You can talk to me.”
Claire fought the tears, “I know. It’s just -- I haven’t spoken to anyone about this. I mean, I like Amber and Harry, I really do. They’ve been wonderful, especially considering we hardly knew one another when Amber went out on a limb and sent a jet to get me. I want to open up to them, but I’m so confused about so many things. I just don’t know.”