Each day was a little better than the last. Claire only allowed herself to cry or acknowledge her loneliness when she was alone in her suite. It wasn’t compartmentalization—she’d accepted her fate. These weren’t the cards she’d been dealt; no, they were the ones she’d drawn.

She reasoned that Madeline and Francis didn’t need to be burdened by her sadness, and her child didn’t need to experience the anguish coming from its mother—all of the time. Claire kept the sadness defined, and the rest of the time, she bluffed her way through. Fake it until she made it—her new mantra.

The odd thing—the thing that surprised Claire—was as she bluffed and feigned happiness, the real pleasures of day-to-day activities seeped into her life. One afternoon, while in the kitchen with Madeline and without pretending, Claire heard her own laughter. The light, foreign, and whimsical sound surprised her more than anyone else. It had been so long since she’d truly laughed that she almost didn’t recognize it.

On the afternoon after she and Tony spoke, she lay on her bed, phone in hand, for what seemed like hours. Her plan was well thought out and well designed; nevertheless, he hung up. The pain from his decision and her situation was physical. She’d experienced physical pain before, and this was equally as immobilizing. Had it not been for the child inside of her, Claire might have chosen to remain forever on that big bed; however, as the life within her moved and grew, she knew that she too, must go on.

The tides still rose and the sun still set. Madeline and Francis still did what they did. Claire had a decision to make; she either centered her life on waiting for his call or moved on. It wasn’t a desire—it was a need. Claire needed closure. With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she turned off the phone Tony called, gathered the cords, and placed all of the phones associated with the safety deposit box in a container. She wouldn’t trap him, and she couldn’t persuade him—all Claire could do was move on.

When her reality finally hit, Claire realized she was facing her greatest fear—Catherine had won. It didn’t matter that Claire knew the truth, or that she told Tony. All that mattered were the consequences of her betrayal. On a warm night in June, she and Tony stood in an open field and promised to trust one another. Even at the time, Claire knew it was a difficult promise for Tony; nevertheless, they made a vow. It wasn’t said in front of family and friends, but it was an oath. Although some of Tony’s promises over the years were made for the wrong reasons, he showed Claire more than once that he was a man of his word.

On that same night, Tony asked Claire if she was afraid of him. Claire replied: Of you—personally—not anymore. There was a time, but I’ve changed, and you’ve changed. No, I’m not. If only she’d focused on that—on her promises.

All vows endure tests. These tests were rarely planned—but they happened. Catherine planned Claire’s test, deceptively using Claire’s experience, her fear, and her maternal instinct against her. By failing that test, Claire was hurt—Tony was hurt—and ultimately, their child was hurt—all the children of children. Truly, it was an impressive win on Catherine’s part. She could live on that jackpot for a long time.

It was a few days after their conversation, when Claire saw the irony. In this strange world of vengeance, Claire did what Tony said Nathaniel had done—Claire had trusted the wrong people. She couldn’t take it back. Not only had she trusted the wrong people, she’d pushed away the ones who truly cared. Whether it was Emily, John, or Phil, they were all gone, and Claire knew it was her doing.

When she sat down to eat and Francis held one of her hands and Madeline the other, Francis’ words spoke to an entity who Claire remembered from childhood. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe—she did. It was that she wasn’t sure she deserved the blessings Francis described. One day, in the gardens, Francis told Claire about his personal journey. He wasn’t only a believer, but ordained.

Each day and each meal opened Claire’s mind a little more. Before she knew it, Claire was talking to God too. No, it wasn’t audible, yet it was comforting. She didn’t ask for anything. There was nothing more she wanted. She made promises, promises to focus on her new friends, her child, and her well-being. The more she talked, the more she listened. The replies weren’t words, they were peace. Claire didn’t know how it would work, but somehow, she believed it would. In a way, it was like being with Tony; she willingly gave over control of her life.

Tony took a deep breath. Although the multi-colored sea below him reminded him of his honeymoon, the tension in his neck and shoulders was something completely different. It was no secret; Anthony Rawlings didn’t like or want to be indebted to anyone. Truly, he could count the number of people, on one hand, besides himself, who deserved credit for anything in his life. Unfortunately, that short list went all the way back to his childhood; nevertheless, someone who was no longer obligated to him in any way may have changed his life forever. The jury was still out. As the small plane continued toward some mysterious island, Tony closed his eyes and remembered the happenings of the other night.