Convicted (Consequences)

Phil’s phone, Claire asked, “Have I met Sophia? She looks very familiar.”
    “Not to my knowledge,” Tony answered. “But then again, you did live close to one another in California.”
    Claire shrugged and gave Phil back his phone. “I hope she’s safe. I no longer trust Catherine—even with her own daughter.”
    Everyone looked up to the blue sky as a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Phil commented, “That’s why the pilot rushed to leave the island so fast. The weather predictions had quite a storm coming through this area tonight or tomorrow.”
    “Typhoon season was officially over the end of October,” Claire said, remembering some of her meteorology education.
    “Over or not, I saw the weather models and paid extra to get here before the storm hit.” Phil grinned. “Okay, you paid extra. My other option was to wait until it passed. They told me it could be a one to three day delay—depending on the severity of the storm.”
    “Most of the weather systems never make it here,” Tony offered. “We hear the rumble; however, all we usually get is a steady rain, often in the night, then nothing.”
    “That sounds encouraging,” Phil answered. “I hope you’re right. From what little I know about weather, the models looked intense.”
    Claire sat straighter. “I’ve read about barometric pressure affecting delivery. I know I’m early, but that would be fine with me.”
    Tony’s eyes screamed alarm, nonetheless his voice remained calm. “Yes, once we’re near the doctor—that would be great—not before.”
    Fighting the resurgence of pain in her lower back, Claire feigned a smile. “There are still a few things you can’t control.” She stood and reached for his hand. “And, I love that you think you can.” Her grip tightened.
     

     
    Tony looked up to Claire’s expression. He recognized the clouds of pain settling behind her emerald eyes. He’d seen them before, but he didn’t want to see them again. Unconsciously, his concern for the child lessened proportionally to his increased worry for his wife. “Claire, it’s still early in the day. The sun won’t set for hours; let’s go into town.”
    She shook her head from side to side. “I think I just need to lie down for a little bit, dinner isn’t sitting too well.” Turning toward Phil, she managed, “I’m sorry that I’m not being more hospitable. It seems that eating is more uncomfortable than it is satisfying.”
    “Let me help you—” Tony interjected, as he began to stand.
    Claire stopped him. “Don’t be silly. You two talk about whatever Phil’s learned about Nathaniel. I need a nap, and by later tonight, I’ll be fine. Then you two can fill me in.”
    Tony’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be down to check on you soon.”
    She released his hand and brushed his shoulder. “All right.”
    Tony watched as she disappeared through the archway toward the hall. The anticipated delivery was wearing on him as much as it was her. Placing his elbows on the table, he lowered his head to his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair.
    He wanted to put Claire on a plane and fly her back to the United States. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing she had the best medical care possible. He was a fuck’n billionaire! His wife shouldn’t be giving birth in the middle of nowhere. Tony knew he’d put Claire in harm’s way in the past—both intentionally and unintentionally—now he’d do anything to keep her safe.
    Roach’s worried voice caused Tony to look up. “Francis and I can go for the doctor?”
    There was a time when having another man so obviously care for his wife would’ve upset Tony; however, looking across the table, he knew it was right. Tony felt no more threatened by Phillip Roach than he would have by Eric or Brent. He actually welcomed the common bond. Roach was their ace in the hole . Tony didn’t like admitting that he needed help, and he probably never would verbally; however, having Roach present to go for help or be their eyes and ears back in the states was reassuring.
    Tony replied, “Let’s give her some time. She goes from one hundred miles an hour to zero a lot lately. One minute, she’s going through baby clothes, folding and refolding. The next, she’s in the kitchen helping Madeline; then next, she’s asleep. I’ll check on her soon. If she’s still having these pains—I think it’d be a good idea.” Looking down at his hands, Tony softly mumbled, “Thank