Claire sat on the edge of her bed. “Well, I hope they won’t be necessary; however, I want to schedule a doctor’s appointment for a check-up.”

“Talk to Madeline; she can help with that. Remember, there’s a real doctor in town.”

“I think this’ll work. Thank you so much—for everything.”

Phil nodded. “You’re welcome, Claire. It seems my job is done here...”

Her new-found contentment evaporated with his declaration. Suddenly, the remoteness of the island filled her with angst. “You’re leaving?” she asked. “But—I—I just asked Madeline to show you to one of the other rooms.”

“She did, and it’s great, but if you’re happy and safe, I don’t think I should—”

Tears teetered on the edge of Claire’s eyes as she stood and asked, “Will I be able to contact you?”

“Is that what you want?”

What did she want? Claire knew she didn’t want what Phil wanted, or at least what Madeline said he wanted; nevertheless, she didn’t want him to go. The way she’d introduced him to Madeline and Francis was accurate; Phil was her friend. She trusted him, and she wanted him around. For most of the last year, he had been. Even before she really knew him, he was there—watching—protecting—a constant in her world of change. Claire blinked her eyes, and the teetering tears slid down her cheeks. “I want to have people around me that I can trust. I don’t know Madeline or Francis—not yet.”

“I did a thorough background check. They’re very transparent, so what you see is what you have.”

Claire nodded.

“I have another job waiting.”

Claire’s neck stiffened. “I understand; you’re tired of babysitting.”

“Claire, I asked the pilot to wait. I think this is best.”

“Thank you. Thank you for protecting me, getting me here—for everything.” She wanted to reach out and hug him; however, she couldn’t bear to hurt anyone else. If Madeline’s assessment was true then Phil was right—his leaving was best. “Maybe someday—”

He interrupted, “I’ll leave you my number, but remember—only make emergency calls—and also—for you and your baby’s safety—don’t contact anyone but me or the FBI.”

Claire swallowed and nodded.

Before she could think of anything else, Phil was gone. An overwhelming sense of seclusion engulfed the room as she watched the door shut. Inhaling deeply, Claire fought the feeling of suffocation, suddenly threatening her ability to breathe. When the air finally filled her lungs, a sob erupted from the depth of her chest. The trip from Venice had taken days. They’d created an intricately woven web designed to detour anyone’s efforts in finding them. Suddenly, the trip and Phil’s departure were too much. Claire collapsed on her big, lonely bed.

The ceiling fan that moved the hot, sticky, midmorning air did nothing to cool the room. Despite the oppressing heat, Claire wrapped herself in the soft comforter and cried herself to sleep.

When she woke, her eyelids felt swollen. Claire wasn’t sure how long she’d slept. The clock near the bed read 3:18, and the sun on the horizon told her it was afternoon—not morning. Rubbing her temples, Claire realized she needed food to help her aching head and settle her nerves.

As she neared the table by her door, she knew Madeline had been in her room. There was a pitcher of water and a covered bowl within a bowl of ice. Lifting the lid, Claire’s stomach growled as she saw the luscious fruit. She tried not to think about Phil or being alone; instead, she ate the fruit, drank the water, and talked out loud to her baby. Perhaps if she explained how everything would work out, in a calm, reassuring voice, then she’d believe it too?

Within days, the customary staff/lady of the house, protocol was forgotten. Claire spent hours with Madeline in the state-of-the-art kitchen, learning to cook foods she’d never previously tried. She also spent time with Francis, caring for the tropical gardens and fruit trees.

Madeline arranged for Claire to visit the doctor, and Francis accompanied her. Traveling by boat was something that would take time to get used to. Once on the mainland, Claire loved how Francis helped her feel welcome and secure.

She was both relieved and happy to learn that the doctor Phil promised truly did exist. He was educated in the UK and spoke English as well as many of the native languages. His clinic was modern and even had an ultrasound. Claire was now twenty-six weeks into her pregnancy. Since it had been over a month since her last visit, the doctor recommended an ultrasound. The image amazed Claire—so unlike the original peanut-shaped picture she’d shown to Tony. This time, she saw her baby’s profile, as well as, little hands and little feet. When he asked if she knew the sex of her child, Claire remembered the conversation she’d never had with Tony; the one asking him to go with her to her next appointment. With tears in her eyes, Claire replied, “No, doctor, I don’t, and I don’t want to know—not yet.” He willingly kept the information hidden.