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 him, 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.”