Consequences (14 page)

“Anthony, there isn’t a necklace that you could have bought that would mean more to me than this.” Her tears were dry but he watched as her emerald-green eyes sparkled.

“People that know me well, and they are numbered, call me Tony. You may call me Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony. This is the best night of my life. How can I ever thank you?”

Tony turned off the riding lights in the cabin. Home was still over a half hour away and the window between them and Eric was closed. “I actually have a few ideas.”

My
formula
for
living
is
quite
simple.
I
get
up
in
the
morning
and
I
go
to
bed
at
night.
In
between,
I
occupy
myself
as
best
I
can.

—Cary Grant

 Chapter 9

The weather continued to warm. Claire could now sunbathe in her new bikinis. Each time she stepped through the door onto the deck of the pool, she felt like she was entering a resort. She could eat at one of the umbrella tables or read in a lounge chair or swim in the tepid water. The Iowa sunshine resulted in a beautiful golden tan. Her hair, which was always brown, now shimmered with golden highlights contrasting the chestnut shade.

It seemed impossible, but Claire actually felt busy. She would wake, work out, shower, and eat breakfast. Then if Tony were out of the house, the possibilities were numerous. The pool remained a good option. However, Claire preferred that in the afternoon. What she enjoyed beyond anything was exploring the woods. The land around Anthony Rawlings’s estate extended for miles in most directions. One evening, she asked if walking in the woods was permitted. Tony explained that she could probably walk hours and not reach the property line. He never ventured into the woods but had flown over in a helicopter to survey the land, determining the best location for the house. This made her feel better about exploring. He didn’t want her leaving his property without him or his permission, but she could wander and roam and still follow the rules. The fact that even Tony hadn’t been out there made it more appealing.

Claire wanted to learn all about the land, to do this she decided to go different directions each time she ventured through the trees. She discovered areas that the trees were so dense there was no ground vegetation and remained cool even as the temperatures of summer increased. She also found spontaneous clearings usually with flowers. The earlier in the morning Claire went into the forest, the more flowers she would see. There were morning glories blue as the sky above. After the sun’s warmth caused those to close, the white daisies and yellow mustard flowers would fill the void and create a multicolored canvas. With flowers came insects. Claire watched the bees busily pollinating and the multiple kinds of butterflies fluttering about. She decided to check Tony’s library to see if he had a book that would help her classify the different species.

Catherine expected Claire back for lunch each day, so she tried not to venture farther than an hour and a half in any direction. During her past life, she walked for exercise, sometimes at a gym but more often around her neighborhood in Atlanta. Walking on sidewalks and through a nearby park she measured distance by time. One mile took fifteen minutes. Lately her adventures took her along the path less traveled. It wasn’t unusual for her to climb over fallen trees or up steep embankments. Due to these obstacles Claire estimated that one mile took closer to twenty minutes. With those calculations she traveled approximately four miles away from the house on each adventure.

One morning, she happened upon a den of foxes. Initially frightened, she watched them from a distance. There were two large and three small foxes. The small ones ventured away from the den, but the larger ones would always be within sight. It reminded Claire of camping with her dad and made her feel warm and reassured.

It seemed like the thoughts she had more recently were of her childhood and not her precontractual adult life. Perhaps it was a compartmentalization thing. Childhood was the past. It couldn’t be changed, only remembered.

Her life before March 15 was actually present, or should be present. She
should
be in Atlanta, tending bar at the Red Wing and trying desperately to find another job in meteorology. She
should
be going out with friends and drinking so much her head hurt the next morning. She
should
be talking to her sister on the phone or e-mailing her and learning about her and John.

Currently nearing the end of June, Emily would be out of school for the summer. John was a busy associate in a law firm. Before Claire
disappeared
, Emily had mentioned visiting Claire. “You know I’m off work in the summer and John is busy. I could come spend some time with you in Atlanta.”

“Gosh, that would be great, but it gets really hot here in the summer. And I have to work, so you would probably be bored.” Claire now felt bad that she hadn’t been more encouraging.

Honestly, she worried that Emily would disapprove of her tending bar or something else. Claire hadn’t wanted to listen to her advice. Now she would love to hear her advice or even her voice. Claire sighed and wondered about Emily, did she wonder where Claire was? Had she tried to contact her? Soon she realized the wooded scene in front of her was blurry. The tears were spilling over her lids onto her cheek. Claire decided to avoid those thoughts. Put them away in that compartment labeled
later
. Childhood provided safer thoughts and memories.

Tony explained that his land was virtually pie-shaped. The front of the property was where the drive met the highway, then the house, and then the land fanned out from there. Claire felt as though she was getting a handle on the layout of the property but it was taking time.
Luckily
, she thought,
that
is
the
one
thing
I
have
plenty
of,
because
there’s
a
lot
of
land
to
explore.
Of course, that followed with thoughts of the mysterious timetable. When would her debt be considered paid?

One cool morning Claire sat on her jacket at the edge of a beautiful clearing and watched a magnificent wildlife performance. First she saw deer run across the open field. With each jump their white tails caught the sun like bright white powder puffs. The longer she sat the more deer she saw. They would slowly approach the clearing, run across, and slow again once in the safety of the trees. There was no threat to them at that time, but instinct told them that the trees held security
.
Claire wondered where her security was. Or perhaps this was a lesson in instinct?

Claire contemplated talking to Catherine about packing a lunch so that she could stay out in the woods longer. Then she decided that might be something to do when Tony was out of town. She didn’t want to get lost and not be back to the suite by 5:00 p.m. She hated his rules, but following them made her life more pleasant.

On days Tony stayed home exploring wasn’t an option. He required her to stay near in the event her services were needed. She was often told to stay in his office, where she would read, sitting on the soft leather sofa until he summoned her. There were days when he never requested her services, yet she wasted the entire day in his office. Claire knew it was more of the continued power play. He controlled her time, her body, and her life.

To continue her busy days, after lunch Claire sunbathed by the pool or read on the sunporch. She also had the library that could captivate her for hours at a time. If it rained she might opt for a movie in the theater. There were so many things to do.

The addition of an occasional evening out with Tony was the biggest change to Claire’s busy schedule. It started with the symphony. Since that time she accompanied him to a few other events. None as formal as the symphony, and all charity related, different foundations having dinners or cocktail parties or benefits. Each time Tony would tell Catherine that Claire needed to be ready for a specific event. She liked getting out away from the estate, but an invitation instead of a mandate would be nice. Apparently, companionship to events had now been added to her job description. Claire believed she did well at each turn and felt confident as long as Tony was near her. He would handle any situation that came her way.

At an event to honor donors of the University of Iowa’s Children’s Hospital, Claire stood dutifully at Anthony’s side while he spoke with a gentleman, to whom she’d been introduced. Another man began to speak to her. It started innocently enough, “Hello, Ms. Nichols, I am not sure if you remember me? We met a few weeks ago at the Quad City Symphony.” His volume was low, to either lure her away from Tony or not be heard by him. Claire believed she remembered him. She tried to remember names as well as Tony but she could only recall his face. He then introduced himself, “Charles Jackson,” and made small talk about the symphony. He started asking her about her place of residence, did she live in the Quad City region? Chicago? What brought her to this area? The entire time Claire stayed steady to Tony. She didn’t want to interrupt Tony’s conversation, but her instincts told her this wasn’t good. She successfully avoided direct answers but he persisted beyond political correctness. She decided she needed to get Tony involved before this man dragged something out of her she didn’t want to divulge. She lightly placed her hand on Tony’s arm. At first, he didn’t respond, so she squeezed it a little. When he excused himself from his conversation, he turned to Claire. She hated that she interrupted him, but she wore her mask and politely motioned toward the gentleman.

“Anthony, this is Charles Jackson.” Anthony turned to Charles and shook his hand. Charles appeared uncomfortable, but not Tony. “Mr. Jackson has been incredibly inquisitive. I thought you might be able to be of assistance to him.”

Claire stood back a half a step, still holding Anthony’s arm, and turned back to Mr. Jackson, who looked increasingly pale. “Mr. Jackson, I am very good with names and faces. I remember seeing you at the symphony. I do not believe we were introduced. It is not my practice to converse with members of the press. It is my policy to allow my publicist to discuss such matters. I recommend that you speak to her, not my companion.”

Anthony’s voice was one Claire recognized immediately, not his chatty social voice. Mr. Jackson didn’t have any difficulty distinguishing the tone or the meaning. He apologized profusely to Anthony and then to Claire and made his way out of the event. Claire felt ill. She honestly didn’t know how she would have handled it without his help. Tony placed his hand on top of Claire’s as Mr. Jackson walked away.

“Tony, I am sorry I interrupted your conversation. I just felt uncomfortable.”

Leaning down to her ear and squeezing her hand, he whispered, “It is fine. You made the right decision.” She exhaled with relief.

Her current
job
passed its third-month anniversary. She still felt trapped and hated that she was there, but she didn’t hate every day. She thought of each day as a new possibility, and like everyone else in the world, some days were better than others. She knew the difference with her life was that her barometer was not her. It summed up her dependence on Anthony Rawlings. The tone of her life depended totally and completely upon his frame of mind.

He traveled a few days a week every couple of weeks. While she was secluded to her suite, he’d been in Europe, which apparently happened with some regularity. These momentary
freedoms
upset her. Instead of relishing them, she felt lonely. There would be some evenings that he had business obligations and wouldn’t dine with her or even come to her suite. Some of his ideas for her job requirements didn’t settle well, but she came to prefer that to being alone.

June came and went. Since Claire chose to not watch television, she didn’t know that the entire country was enduring a heat wave. She just knew that the outside air was heavy and within minutes could feel the perspiration dripping between her breasts and down her back. If a breeze blew it felt sticky and oppressive, not refreshing. Even being at the pool was uncomfortable unless early or late.