Consequences Read online

  “Good evening, Nathaniel.” Sharron’s greeting came from the archway to the sitting room. She had his bourbon waiting. Dinner would be precisely at seven. Everyone knew that. Perhaps it was the military training, but punctuality was never questioned. “How was your day?”

  “It is better now.” He took the glass she handed to him and kissed his wife’s cheek. The sparkle of his wife’s eyes in the illumination of the fireplace added to the tranquility of the scene. A man’s home is his castle and Nathaniel loved the castle his queen was able to enjoy.

  Look deep into nature, and then you will

  understand everything better.

  —Albert Einstein

  Chapter 13

  Claire waited about ten minutes after hearing the door to her suite shut. During that time, she lay still, barely breathing, and pretended to sleep. She didn’t want to face him, talk to him, or even see him. Though appearing peacefully asleep, her mind was a whirlwind of questions: How long until I am sure he won’t come back? Can he see me? Is he watching? Oh god! What did he write?

  Finally, her curiosity overtook her. She got out of bed and started to walk to the table to read his note. Suddenly, the thought hit her like a physical strike. She remembered the cameras and the staff. She reached for her robe on the floor near her bed and put it on. Sitting on the table where he left it was his note.

  I believe we have a blockbuster on our hands. It is

  hard to say, until we thoroughly review the footage.

  I plan to return a week from Wednesday. Eric is

  available if you want to visit the Quad Cities. I trust

  last night’s film reminded you of my rules. Don’t

  disappoint me.

  Never in her life had she remembered being so overwhelmed with emotion. Her entire being emitted loathing, directed completely and totally toward one man, Anthony Rawlings. She hated him, his sadistic ploys, and nasty reminders. She picked up the note, crumbled it into a ball, and threw it against the wall. It created significantly less mess than the vase of flowers had months earlier.

  Her mind tried desperately to compartmentalize the videos. She wanted to put them away, someplace she would never find them. Think of something else, she told herself, but it was too difficult. She climbed back into bed and smelled his aftershave. Turning over the pillow, the cool side smelled fresh. That, with the realization that he wouldn’t return until a week from Wednesday, gave her a sliver of peace. She tried to concentrate. What day is it now? Sunday. She felt her muscles relax. It is Sunday, his day to be home . . . but he is gone. Her eyes closed as tears began to slip onto her pillow. She drifted away to another place.

  “Ms. Claire? Ms. Claire, you must wake.”

  Claire tried to focus. She’d been somewhere in a dream. Now hearing Catherine’s voice, she rolled over and saw her standing at the edge of her bed.

  “Catherine, what are you doing?”

  “Ms. Claire, it is after one in the afternoon. You need to wake and eat. You have already missed breakfast and now lunch. I am worried about you.”

  Opening her eyes caused pain. They felt puffy. However, Claire could see Catherine’s concerned expression and hear it in her tone. From the moment he left the room and she read the note, she’d been crying, even in her sleep. Her body ached, head ached, and heart ached. She felt more alone and isolated than she’d ever felt. “Thank you, Catherine, for your concern. But I believe I will stay in bed today. I’m not feeling well.” She tried to sound strong, but as the words came, so did more tears. They stung her swollen eyes. Claire wanted to concentrate on Catherine but her mind wouldn’t stop thinking of him and what he’d done. She didn’t want Catherine to see her in this condition. Claire rolled her face into her pillow, making her words muffled. “Please leave me alone.”

  Catherine didn’t leave. Instead, she sat on the edge of Claire’s bed and tenderly stroked Claire’s hair as her head moved with the sobs. Catherine remained silent and comforted her until the sobs subsided and Claire caught her breath. “Ms. Claire, you will feel better if you shower and eat. Please let me help you.” Catherine’s concern and affection reminded Claire of her mother or grandmother. However, she knew that if they were here, they would be telling her to run, not shower.

  Claire didn’t want to eat, shower, or even get out of bed. The only thing she wanted to do was to be out of his house. At that moment, she didn’t care if it was by car or death, she just wanted out. The feeling of helplessness sat heavily on her chest. She had tried to survive this ordeal. She had even convinced herself that she could handle whatever he sent her way. But this new situation was too much. He broke her. Since March she maintained her spirit despite the loss of her body. Yesterday he took that too. She turned to look Catherine in the eyes. “How have you been able to work for him all this time?”

  Catherine stopped stroking Claire’s hair and gently took her hand. “Mr. Rawlings is a good man, Ms. Claire. He truly is.”

  Claire shook her head. The tears and sobs resumed. “No! No, he isn’t. I have never met a more sadistic, cruel, bad man.” She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of the tears, the pounding in her head, and taste of her runny nose. Catherine handed Claire a tissue.

  “Mr. Rawlings hides his feelings with certain behaviors. He is afraid to face his own emotions, and he uses this dark persona as a cover. It is not who he really is. I have known him a long time.”

  Her words came between whimpers. “Catherine, I can’t. I can’t get up. I can’t face the staff. They all know. They have all seen me, seen him . . . I just can’t.”

  “No, Ms. Claire. Only I have access to view the inside of your room.” Claire pulled her hand away from Catherine and rolled from her gaze. Catherine reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. “I only use that access to know when to send the staff inside or to check on your safety.” Claire continued to face away from Catherine. “And now I am concerned about you. Ms. Claire, please let me help you. It is a beautiful day outside.” Claire didn’t move. “Would you like your lunch in here or downstairs?”

  Claire shook her head no. “I don’t want lunch. Thank you for your concern, but I am too . . . too . . .” She turned around to face Catherine. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  “Ms. Claire, you are a beautiful strong woman. That is what Mr. Rawlings finds so attractive. He is astounded by your strength and resilience.”

  “That isn’t true. He hates strength in anyone but himself. He has to have total control.” Claire replayed scenes from the past that caused her body to shiver.

  “Miss, you are partially right, Mr. Rawlings does not want to let anyone else have any power over him. Therefore, if he admits he has feelings toward you, he gives up control. And if I may, that scares him.”

  Claire really didn’t think that anything scared Anthony Rawlings. “I don’t want his feelings. I want out. I want to go to Atlanta and forget I was ever here. I promise I won’t tell any of his secrets. I just want to go home.” Tears flowed with increased intensity and her next question was barely audible. “Do you think he will ever let me go?”

  Catherine looked into her eyes. “Mr. Rawlings is a man of his word. If he said he will release you when your debt is paid, then he will.” The obvious question was when would that be? “Now after you shower, would you like your lunch in here or downstairs?”

  Claire began to get out of the bed as Catherine helped with her robe. “I will shower, but I am really not hungry.”

  “It is sunny and beautiful outside, the sun will make you feel better. I will have your lunch brought to the pool.” Catherine started for the door and stopped. “Unless you need my assistance?”

  “Thank you, I will be all right. I will be down to the pool in a little while.” Claire slowly walked into the bathroom. She turned the shower on as hot as possible, stood under the stream, and let the flow hit her face and skin. It didn’t stop her head from aching, but it washed away the scent of him. As the steam b
uilt and her skin turned red, she found herself sitting on the bench, spray hitting her hair, and tears resuming.

  She couldn’t be sure how long she sat in that position but the temperature of the water began to cool when she snapped back to reality. Drying herself she noticed new bruises, both hip bones and left forearm were red and tender to the touch, and when placing sunscreen she found some more on her legs. Momentarily, she considered the need to camouflage the bruises while at the pool, then she realized, why? Maybe the staff didn’t have access to the videos of her room, but what about the pool, his office, and any other place he chose to require her services?

  She combed her wet hair, put on a bikini, a beach cover, flip-flops, and found her new sunglasses. Her eyes looked scary in the mirror. The sunglasses would definitely help. On her way to the pool she stopped in the library and grabbed an older magazine, People. Some light nonsense reading to help her mind stray.

  As soon as she stepped outside of the house Claire realized Catherine was right about the weather, lower humidity with bright sunshine. When she reached the pool, Cindy brought a tray with her lunch: a turkey sandwich, mixed fresh fruit, and an iced tea. She asked if Claire needed anything else.

  “No, Cindy, I am fine. Thank you for lunch.” The sound of defeat was heavy in her voice. The sight of the food made her ill. It reminded her of dining, and dining of Tony, and Tony of his rules, instructions, and video surveillance. She started to shove the tray off the table, but stopped. Someone would need to clean it up and that seemed unnecessary. She picked up the glass of iced tea and walked toward a chaise lounge. Remembering scenes on that lounge chair, she chose another.

  The sun felt wonderful on her skin and the tea tasted refreshing. Her head still ached and eyes hurt. She suddenly wished she had asked Cindy for some headache medicine. Thumbing through the magazine she looked at pictures of celebrities. They all smiled, pretty and happy. She read an article about a little girl who was saved by her dog, sweet.

  Then the latest gossip, who was with whom and who was splitting from whom. It was then that she saw the picture. In a section called “Star Tracks,” it was her! The photo showed her and Tony sitting in the private box at the symphony, her smiling at him and him holding her hand. It contained the title: Mystery Beauty? The caption read:

  “Anthony Rawlings, forty-five, confirmed bachelor, mega millionaire and red-hot sexy has been seen at numerous events in the last month with this beautiful woman. Sources say her name is Claire Nichols, but who is she? Mr. Rawlings’s publicist would not comment about speculation that there could be someone special in his life.”

  Claire looked at the photo in disbelief. Tony is forty-five, really? And who would care that she was at the symphony? Well other than her, since it was her first time allowed out of the house in two months. Has Emily seen this? What about her friends in Atlanta? The stupid magazine was supposed to take her mind off everything, not make it public. Claire flipped the magazine over. It was dated June 14. Today is Sunday, but what is the date? It is August, August 8, and Tony won’t return until the eighteenth. When she thought of it that way, it seemed even longer. She smiled, threw the magazine on the ground, and closed her eyes. The clock by the pool house read 3:15 when Catherine woke her again.

  “I brought you something special, Ms. Claire.” Claire opened her eyes to see Catherine holding a tall glass containing something that looked like a smoothie. “It is my secret recipe, banana, strawberry, and yogurt.”

  Claire appreciated Catherine’s persistence and took the drink. It tasted sweet and felt cool in her throat as she swallowed. The nutritional ingredients gave her body the sustenance it needed. While she drank Catherine pulled up a chair and chatted. Claire knew she was being watched. This wasn’t a depraved voyeur. It was an act of compassion and concern. Catherine didn’t talk about anything that happened, she just talked. Claire liked the sound of her voice. Once she finished, Catherine left with the glass.

  Claire closed her eyes and recognized a new sense of emptiness and relief. Four months of despair had been washed out of her through gallons of tears. She remembered her grandmother saying that sometimes we all need a good cry. To that end, Grandma would read a sad book or watch a sad movie. Claire decided she’d watched the sad movie.

  The sun still shimmered on high but began to move toward the front of the house, casting shadows on the pool and deck. Claire decided to go back upstairs, but realized she had no privacy in her suite.

  At that moment, she noticed the trees. Her mind worked slowly, it had been through quite an ordeal in the past twenty-four hours. As she stood staring at the green leaves and thick forest she saw freedom. Not freedom to Atlanta or completely away from him, but freedom from cameras, instructions, rules, and freedom to relax. The realization energized Claire like nothing had all day. Tomorrow she was heading into the woods.

  Monday morning Claire woke with a start. She’d been dreaming, but she couldn’t remember about what. She just knew her heart pounded, she gasped for breath, and she felt like she was suffocating. As her mind cleared and she looked around her suite, she saw reality. She was alone, the night had been peaceful, and today was a new day. She quickly showered and dressed for her exploration. When she stepped from the closet/dressing room, because she vowed to never be unclothed in her main room again, her door was closing.

  “Wait please,” she shouted toward the door.

  “I’m sorry, miss, I should have been faster.”

  “Oh no, Cindy, you’re fine. I just need a favor.”

  “Anything, miss. What can I do for you?” Claire explained to Cindy that she planned a day trip into the woods, needed a packed lunch and some water bottles. Cindy listened intently and promised to help.

  Claire sat down to her breakfast. It wouldn’t take much for Claire’s appetite to disappear, just a few thoughts of reality. So she chose not to do that . . . she would get them into that compartment no matter what it took. Instead, she thought about her impending adventure. She thought about hiking boots and bug spray and ate.

  There was a knock on her door. Claire called for the person to come in. “Ms. Claire, could you please explain to me what Cindy is asking?” She told Catherine about her plans to explore, how she didn’t want to return for lunch, and she knew Catherine wouldn’t want her to skip a meal. Therefore, she would need a packed lunch and some water bottles. Catherine seemed apprehensive. “I am sorry, miss, but if you didn’t come back?”

  Although that sounded wonderful, Claire was surprised by Catherine’s concern. “Catherine, I have no plans for that. First, I wouldn’t do that to you. I can only imagine Mr. Rawlings’s reaction if I didn’t return. And second, his reaction. I can truthfully say if I left I would be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life,” which, she didn’t say audibly, she believed deep in her soul may not be very long. “I just want to explore and be outside, away from everything. Mr. Rawlings gave me permission to go into the woods. I have done it before. I just want to be out longer, without concern for curfews. Besides, we both know that this conversation is being recorded. I promise to return. If I don’t, he will see that it was I who lied, you just believed me. But I promise I will be back.”

  There was a spark in Claire’s green eyes. The same eyes that only yesterday were red, swollen, and lifeless. Catherine said that Claire would have her lunch and water packed in a few minutes, but asked that she be back by six for dinner. Claire promised she would. As soon as Catherine left the room, Claire went to the dressing table and found her watch. She didn’t want to disappoint her.

  That morning Claire abandoned her strategy of dissecting the woods. She remembered the large clearing with the flowers and headed in that direction. In the past she only went as far as the clearing, today she planned to go beyond it.

  She found the clearing right where she thought it would be. The heat of the summer transformed the green grass into long brown straw, only the weeds were green. Claire didn’t mind, the weeds had pretty colorful
flowers. Unlike Tony’s flowers, which had been sentenced to his yard, gardens, or clay pots, these flowers grew free wherever they wanted. Furthermore, weeds were survivors. When all else died, the weeds remained. Yes, Claire liked weeds. She glanced at her watch. She’d reached the clearing by ten in the morning.

  When she left the house there was a slight chill, so she brought a sweatshirt. With steadily increasing temperatures now its only purpose was to sit upon. She laid it out in the middle of the clearing and sat. A faint breeze blew her hair and caused the leaves of the trees to rustle. Even though it was only the beginning of August, due to the recent dryness the leaves were beginning to change.

  That bothered her. She moved, or was brought, to Iowa in March. At that time, the leaves hadn’t formed and now they were beginning to change. Time slipped away from her and she couldn’t hold on. It made her think of a soap opera her mother used to watch. The opening said something like, “Sands through the hour glass . . .”

  She laid her head on the hard ground and gazed at the open sky. There were a few white fluffy clouds. The expanse of the sky glowed blue and clear. The longer she lay immobile, the more she blended into the surroundings. First she noticed the butterflies that fluttered just above the grass. Then she saw the chipmunks. One would run around a tree, the next would run up the tree, chasing and being chased. Eventually she sat up, opened one of her water bottles, continued to sit and contemplate.

  Once she stepped through the trees, leaving the confines of Tony’s backyard, Claire believed she escaped the range of his top-notch security. It felt like being released from a prison. Even the air smelled sweeter as she inhaled and relaxed. She smiled at the irony, definitely feeling more secure, without security.