Consequences (20 page)

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.

She didn’t look at her watch, enjoying her
freedom.
After much consideration she decided to head west, northwest. There was no reason for that direction, more of a yearning, but it was solely hers, so she did it. She walked and walked. Close to the earth, she experienced a coolness that comes only from the shade of very tall trees. When she looked up, the trees reminded her of a kaleidoscope. The blue sky radiated beyond the ever-changing design of leaves. Since she hadn’t checked the time when she left the clearing, she didn’t know how long she had walked when she reached the shore.

The lake wasn’t big, but then again it wasn’t small. She could see the other end, a distance away. Nothing but nature surrounded the water in every direction. Looking down as she stood on the shore, her boots stood upon thousands of small smooth pebbles. Suddenly, she wondered if she could skip one
.
Remembering from childhood, she knew it needed to be smooth. It took her three tries, but she did it. It skipped four times, each hit going a little deeper, creating a slightly larger ring upon the water. The rings grew until they faded into the waves of the lake. For the first time in days she felt hungry.

Catherine never disappointed when it came to food. Claire found a sandwich—turkey or chicken she would soon find out—fruit in a small sealed cup, and some carrots. She sat at the water’s edge, broke off some of her bread and threw it in the water. The crumbs floated, rising and falling with the water. Suddenly, each crumb became surrounded by four or five minnows. They jumped and nibbled. Once they ate all the bread, Claire broke off more and fed them again. This time more minnows came to the feast.

The sounds of the lake exemplified peace. Claire closed her eyes and lost herself in the rhythm. Small waves lapping the earth made a consistent beat, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. The breeze rustling the leaves of the trees created gentle on again, off again reverberations. The sun moved steadily toward the other end of the lake. Claire knew that her new sunglasses were a smart accessory for her adventure. It wasn’t just the sun, but its reflection off the water. It sparkled and shined as prisms of light and color danced off the waves. She could sit and watch for hours. Occasionally there would be a splash and Claire would see the telltale rings left behind from a fish that jumped out of the lake only to go back down.

Just before Claire decided to check her watch, she saw, about one hundred yards down the shore from her, a doe and a fawn. They cautiously approached the lake’s edge. The doe kept a watchful eye on the surroundings while the fawn concentrated on drinking the cool clear water. She didn’t want to move or disturb them but the sun continued to lean toward the west.

With a heavy heart she looked at her watch. It was four thirty. It took forty-five minutes to get from the clearing to the house, but she didn’t know how long it took to get from the lake to the clearing. Tony wouldn’t be home, but Catherine had been so kind and supportive. She didn’t want to disappoint her either.

Slowly, she stood, having no idea how long she’d been sitting on the shore. Her muscles ached. She wondered if the cause could be sitting on the smooth pebbles or if it was the activities of Friday and Saturday night. When those memories entered her mind, she felt her stomach knot. Eight more days. She knew without a doubt this would be where they were spent.

Survival
is
not
so
much
about
the
body,
but
rather
it
is
about
the
triumph
of
the
human
spirit.

—Danita Vance

 Chapter 14

Wednesday arrived sooner than Claire hoped. Since the discovery of her lake oasis, she spent every day there and returned to the house by six each evening, as promised. Truly, the first night had been close. She even needed to run part of the way, but she made it. Now she knew the way and that it took an hour and forty-five minutes each direction.

As the week progressed, Claire took more supplies: a blanket to rest on, a book, and her lunch with water to drink. She even started wearing her bathing suit under her shorts so that she could sunbathe on the shore. This made her feel like a rebel. The bathing suit was a lot like underwear.

When she walked the path approaching the lake, she began to recognize the sights, sounds, and also the smells. It was a clean fresh aroma that penetrated deep into her lungs. As the days passed, she soaked in the serenity of this secret haven and her strength and resolve returned. When Tony left for Europe, she felt as low as she had felt since her arrival—actually, in her life. She wanted out. She would have been willing to die to accomplish that goal if only the means had been present.

Now she was thankful that it wasn’t. When he returned he would be the same, but she would be different. He hurt her—not just physically but also emotionally—down to her core. He had humiliated and seemed to enjoy humiliating her routinely since she arrived. Making her view herself in those situations was agony. Previously, she tried to put away the memories to create a separation between her daily life and her daily duties. To some extent, she’d been successful. This compartmentalization had facilitated her survival. His appalling videos documenting his brutal treatment and merciless instructions exposed her to herself. It broke her.

The lake, nature, sunshine, and freedom rejuvenated her. She felt like the Six-Million Dollar Man: stronger, faster, and better. She would gain sustenance and strength from the memories of the crystal waves shining and flashing in the sunlight. He could say, do, or make her do anything, anywhere and her mind would be hearing the leaves rustle, the birds sing, and the waves lap at the shore. She knew it wouldn’t be easy but she also knew the routine. There would be breaks when he had to travel and hopefully be gone, far away for long periods of time. She would live for those breaks until the time came when her debt was paid and she could be the one to leave.