Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness .

—Euripides

Forty-eight hours of traveling took its toll—Claire must have fallen asleep because, when she opened her eyes, Phil was pulling the van into the Simmons’ garage. Even in the dark of night, she recognized the brick drive. Inside the garage directly in the beams of the headlights, Claire saw Courtney and Brent. Her heart leapt. “Oh! I can’t believe we’re really here.” Turning to see Tony’s face, she read a hundred emotions. Happiness or even relief didn’t seem to be the top contenders. She asked, “Aren’t you happy to be here?”

“I am.” He squeezed her hand. “I just realized the last time I saw or spoke to Brent we discussed something I’d rather forget. He probably told Courtney—” The van stopped as did Tony’s words. Claire watched Brent hit the button to close the door as she and Tony reached for their handles.

Phil stopped them. “Don’t open the van doors until the garage is closed. I don’t think we were followed—I took a lot of back roads, but you can’t be sure their house isn’t being watched.”

The reality of their situation came rushing back with the familiar pounding behind Claire’s temples. She’d taken some acetaminophen during their last layover before Iowa, but that was hours ago and the dull ache was becoming a nonstop pound. Trying to relieve the tension, she rolled her neck right then left. She wasn’t thinking, or she wouldn’t have done that in front of Tony.

“Do you have a headache?”

Claire smiled and shook her head. Telling him wouldn’t make her feel better, and she knew how much he hated her headaches. They reminded him of a time long ago. “I’m fine; what did you two talk about?”

Before he could answer, Phil had his door open and Courtney was rushing toward the van. Claire’s door sprang open, and without warning, she was swallowed in Courtney’s hug. “I’m so glad you two came here! Let’s get you in the house where it’s warm.”

Freeing herself from her best friend’s embrace, Claire interjected, “Thank you for letting us come...all three of us!” Tony had unbuckled the baby seat. Claire moved it to her lap, pulled back the blankets, and revealed their daughter. The biggest brown eyes stared up toward her mother’s voice.

“She’s beautiful!” Courtney squealed.

Tony was now to Claire’s door. “May we introduce Nichol Courtney Rawlings?”

Courtney put her hand to her lips as tears moistened her eyes. “Nichol Courtney?”

Tony nodded as a proud smile emerged.

Courtney hugged Tony and whispered, “We’ve missed all of you.”

Brent put out his hand. Though Tony had worked to mask whatever he was feeling, Claire saw a micro expression of relief as the two men shook hands. She wondered again what they’d discussed, many months ago.

Within the warmth of the kitchen, Claire removed Nichol from her seat while Phil casually asked where he could retire. Claire’s pulse quickened when Brent said, “Mr. Roach, let me show you to your room. Tony, would you like to join us for a minute?”

Although Tony showed no outward signs of concern, Claire knew from his earlier comment there may be need. As the three men disappeared, she wondered what they needed to discuss. If it was about Emily or Tony, then Claire wanted to know. Courtney’s voice brought Claire back to present. “We had no idea you named her after me.” Her blue eyes glistened as she asked, “May I hold her?”

“Her name’s a long story, but Courtney was a name we both agreed upon. You’ve always been so good to both of us. Of course you can hold her; let me change her first.”

Courtney couldn’t pry her eyes away from Nichol. “I don’t mind. Oh my, Claire, look at those eyes.”

Placing her daughter in her best friend’s arms, Claire replied, “Aren’t they beautiful? Just like her daddy’s.”

Claire followed Courtney through the house to one of their guest rooms. The men were nowhere in sight. Hearing Courtney talk on and on loosened the tight muscles in Claire’s shoulders and relieved the pain behind her temples.

“I’m so glad Mr. Roach contacted Brent,” Courtney said.

“Cort, you do realize this is illegal, right?”

“Honey, I’d break any law to have you here, safe and sound.”

Claire added, “And Tony?”

Courtney nodded before she closed the bedroom door, and asked in a hushed tone, “We don’t have a lot of time before the men get back. You promised you’d be honest with me.”

“I know”—Claire looked down—“I’m sorry about the way I left. Do you know about Catherine?”

“Yes, Mr. Roach filled Brent in on everything. We understand what you did and why you did it. Who would’ve ever imagined, sweet Catherine? We’ve been careful to never let on to anyone what we know. Mr. Roach said the FBI’s still working to put it all together.”

Claire listened as she changed Nichol and settled into a plush chair to feed her.

“I’m sorry,” Courtney said. “Do you want me to leave?”

“I don’t think I’d invite Brent in”—Claire joked—“but I’m fine with you.”

Glancing toward the door, Courtney lowered her tone. “I want you to know, we really are glad you’re here and safe. I don’t want to upset you, but I have to know.”

Claire braced herself for something. She didn’t know what; perhaps it was about what Tony had said. “What do you need to know?”

“Are you sorry?”

“Am I sorry? That I left without telling anyone?”

Courtney leaned forward. “No, are you sorry you allowed Tony back in your life? Is it truly different? You know, than the first time...”

The trip had been exhausting, yet Courtney’s directness continued Claire’s relaxation. It felt so good to be talking openly with her friend. There’d been too many secrets—she longed for truth. Claire settled against the soft cushions as Nichol, hidden discretely behind a blanket, suckled her breast. Smiling, she answered, “I don’t know what I was afraid you were going to ask, but that wasn’t it. Without a doubt, it’s different! He’s changed. I know some people say that people don’t change—but they do. I have too. The life we shared in our first marriage and before is a distant memory. For Nichol’s sake, I wish it could remain hidden. She doesn’t need to know any of that. Her father is a good man.”

Courtney replied, “But some new things have come up—things from that box you told me about—allegations and suggestions of other things Tony may have done—or at least, he may have been involved with.”

“I promise—I know everything. I’m not saying he was always a good man or a good husband. I’m saying he is now, and when we were here in Iowa, before I left, he was also. Courtney, he knows what he’s done, and he’s sorry.”

Courtney knelt beside Claire. “I believe you. I can see it in your eyes.” She reached out and held Claire’s hand. “I hope this can all be worked out. You’ve been through enough.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you along.”

“Oh goodness, don’t be sorry.”

Claire sighed. “As always, you’re there for me. Hopefully, someday I can repay the favor. I know it’s late; do you want to go to bed? We can talk in the morning.”

“If you don’t mind me being here until the men get back, I want to talk, and maybe when she’s done eating, I can hold Nichol Courtney.”

Claire smiled, her heavy lids fluttered as she stifled a yawn. “I’d love that.” Suddenly, Claire had a thought. “Tony knows that you two know about our past, doesn’t he?”

Courtney nodded. “The FBI showed him and Brent your testimony from 2010 when he was being questioned. After keeping his thoughts silent for almost two years, Brent confronted him.”

“Tony never told me. Well, not until we were almost here. Even then, he didn’t finish.”