They fooled themselves, if they thought their conversation could be avoided the entire evening. After dinner, they moved to the living room. It was hard for Claire to fathom earlier the same day she’d sat in the same room with Tony. Now instead of sitting one on the sofa and the other on the chair, Claire sat nestled into the crook of Harry’s arm. Somehow the embrace didn’t feel sexual, only protective.

With her head against his shoulder, she pulled from his strength and thought about his patience. In the last hour she’d dropped a few bomb shells, and she had more to drop. Yet, unlike her ex-husband, Harry didn’t demand answers. Instead, he provided space and support. She said she would tell him more; he waited, allowing her the luxury of choosing her time and words.

With a deep inhale followed by an audible exhale, Claire began. “What do you want to know?” The warmth of his embrace on her shoulder and side, as they both stared into the Palo Alto night, fueled her courage. Before the night was done, she’d share the secrets of her life with Anthony Rawlings. She didn’t know what it would mean for their relationship, or if this was what he’d wanted to talk about. However, she couldn’t imagine being with a man who didn’t know her past, to understand her present.

When her history became difficult to articulate, he’d rub her shoulder and remain silent. There were times as she spoke about her kidnapping, agreement of duties, glitches, or her accident, she felt his body tense. Never once did he question her choices. It was if he knew she’d questioned herself too many times to count. She’d asked herself: Why did you agree to marry him? Did you really fall in love? Did you think he loved you? Why did you keep up appearances? Asking questions was much easier than answering them.

Harry continued to listen without judgment. Many times he squeezed her shoulder or kissed the top of her head. Each affirmation fortified her resolve.

She didn’t spare any aspect of her life with Tony. She also didn’t dwell on details. No secrets remained. Nearing dawn, she told him about the dinner. She explained how Tony arranged for an empty restaurant. Then she told Harry about Tony’s reaction to her knowledge regarding his birth name.

For the first time, Harry asked for verification, “Are you saying he didn’t send that box of information to you in prison?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” She turned her weary eyes to his face. “He was really stunned. That’s why he came here, to find out more about what I know.”

“Did you tell him?”

“I told him the package held pictures, articles, and a letter. He wanted to see it.”

Again Harry prompted, “And?”

“And I told him I’d burnt it -- he laughed. I could tell he was relieved. But before he left, he told me not to share my information with anyone.” Her eyes widened. “Oh my god!” She jumped from Harry’s embrace to see his eyes, “I told him it was too late.” Her trembling resumed. “That’s why you were almost in that accident. He thinks I’ve shared the information with you and Amber. I need to get a hold of Emily. And...” Claire just remembered, “I dropped the phone I use with her and Courtney. It’s broken. I need to reach them.” Her words came in short increasingly sharp stiletto sentences. “I can’t let anything happen to her or John.”

Harry held Claire’s hands, restraining the explosive panic that surged through her no longer calm body. His voice was now calm and slow. “Do you possibly think you’re giving him too much credit? That accident was caused by a sixteen year old girl, how could that conceivably be traced back to Mr. Rawlings?”

Claire shook her head, “I don’t know. What about the sudden computer glitches at SiJo?”

“Sometimes shit happens.”

“I’ll feel better after I talk to Emily. But, I need another phone.”

“I understand the need for another untraceable phone to speak with Courtney, but why Emily? He knows where you are. He knows where she is; you’re sisters.”

Claire stared at him momentarily, “You’re right.” She reached for her iPhone.

*****

The angry sound of Derek’s voice brought Sophia out of her restless sleep. She could hear his tone and see his expression; she couldn’t understand the cause. With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Why Sophia? Why in the hell are you sleeping in here?” Disorientation from the sudden wake, muted her ability to speak. “I reached for you and you still weren’t in bed. I thought you might still be drawing. But you’re sleeping, without me!”

Her mind reeled, “How did you know I was drawing?” Her soft voice didn’t mirror his irritation, though it did a poor job of hiding her unhappiness.

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

This time a little stronger, “How did you know I was drawing?”

“I watched you.” As he spoke and her body convulsed with repressed sobs. “You looked so beautiful with your hair up, that sexy nightgown and charcoaled fingers.”

“But, you didn’t say anything. I never knew you were there.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. It’s the first time you’ve drawn since you moved here.”

She tried to turn her face away. His expression was no longer upset, she saw the man she loved. Even with limited light she could see the concern and relief in his soft brown eyes.

“Please don’t look away. Talk to me.”