[English] Consequences

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“I haven’t seen the released pictures. Do you have copies?” Bev said she didn’t but she’d be glad to pull them up online. Claire glanced at her husband, although he didn’t speak, his eyes did. Claire knew she shouldn’t, but she agreed, “Thank you, I’d love to see them.”

Instead of bringing out a computer, Bev removed a remote from a drawer and pointed it at the large television on the wall. The New Year’s countdown from Time Square changed to a homepage. Bev entered Anthony Rawlings into the search engine. Nine months ago—the procedure would’ve seemed mundane—but now it fascinated Claire. She would’ve loved to take the time to read the multitude of pages that appeared as options. Bev reduced the search by entering wedding. Claire briefly saw an accompanying article; but within seconds, Bev clicked, and their pictures appeared on the screen.

Claire stared. There they were in their wedding attire. There were three different pictures—a head shot—a full-length frontal view—and one of them dancing. Everyone watched Claire as she beheld herself on the screen. She looked at Tony and her—they looked like models. Tony was tall, handsome, and buff, with his dark hair, dark eyes, and dark tuxedo contrasting dramatically with Claire. She looked petite, blonde, and striking. Her hair was so light she assumed some of her friends from before may not recognize her. Next to Tony, she seemed small. Tony was right about her eyes. In the head shot, her green eyes shined vividly. She’d seen her dress in the mirror, but seeing it on the television screen and looking at it from afar, it was obviously eye-catching, elegant, and spectacular. She smiled. It had been a good choice.

Claire realized everyone in the room was watching her, especially Tony. Most were happily awaiting her response. Tony seemed less pleased with the entire situation, but she knew he wouldn’t say anything there. It would be a matter better discussed in private. Finally, Sue put her hand on Claire’s knee and asked, “So what do you think?”

Claire giggled. “I just can’t believe my wedding’s news.” Everyone snickered. What did she expect? She married Anthony Rawlings. Claire looked up at him. He had eyes only for her—dark eyes. Daringly, she got up and walked to her husband. Lifting herself by her toes, she reached his cheek and gave it a kiss.

He obliged, bending down to allow his cheek to meet her lips. Addressing the group, Claire nonchalantly replied, “I guess I just forget who he is, but, I have a lifetime to remember.” She kissed him again.

They toasted the New Year with champagne. Brent, Tom, and Tim especially wished Tony a profitable year. If his year was lucrative—theirs would be also. It was after 1:00 AM when the party broke up.

Within the car, the coldness of the leather transcended Claire’s slacks. She wanted the heater to warm the seat as well as the interior of the car quickly. The roar of the window defroster in the stillness of the night told Claire the poor Mercedes was trying its best. Tony was scraping the snow from the windows and talking with Brent while Tim did the same. Everything was blanketed with several more inches of white. Thankfully, it had stopped falling. Absently, Claire wondered how often Tony needed to scrape his own windows. She knew she was trying to divert her thoughts from the reprimand she was about to receive.

Her husband remained pleasant and attentive during the party, but his expression as he opened her door let her know that this subject wasn’t closed. Claire pondered that thought. Wasn’t it really the same subject as earlier? So shouldn’t it be closed?

Each time she exhaled she noticed the faint white crystals which formed and hung in the air. She straightened her posture and squared her shoulders; she was ready. The windows were clear and she could hear Tony and Brent’s voices, his door would open at any moment. With each passing minute her demeanor moved from anxious to indignant.

All she had wanted to do was see their wedding pictures. Why was that such a big deal? After all, it was her wedding. The fact the pictures were available online shouldn’t matter. Once on the road, the only sounds were those of the tires on the snow and the hum of the heater. Claire waited. After a significant silence Tony spoke. “Do you remember I told you I received e-mails from Emily and she’d like you to call?”

“Yes, and you said I could call her tomorrow.” Claire felt a sudden panic.

“I was just wondering—your memory seems to be failing you.”

“May I still call my sister?”

“Yes, I keep my word.”

Claire exhaled. This Tony was more indirect than the one she was accustomed to. Maybe that was the advantage of being his wife—she’d been looking for that perk. “Thank you.” She glanced toward her husband, his jaw muscles defined as he clenched. He was waiting for her to approach the subject. Reluctantly she did. “What did you think of our wedding pictures?”

“I think you were absolutely stunning and I’m a lucky man.”

That wasn’t the response she anticipated. Yes, she was annoyed that this was a big deal; however, her intuition told her to back off. “I’m sorry about encouraging Bev. My curiosity got the better of me.” Apologizing seemed like the best option—even if it only sounded sincere.

“It isn’t just what you did. It’s what you said.”

Claire couldn’t remember what she said, so she asked. “What did I say?”

“You said you forget who I am.”

“I forget that marrying you is newsworthy—I love you for you. I forget that you are Anthony Rawlings—to me—you’re Tony.”

His grip intensified on the steering wheel and she felt his tension radiating through the interior of the car. “I’ve told you over and over, you must remember who I am. If you forget who I am, you’ll forget who you are, and the significance of your behavior.” It was a different version of the appearance speech. He was right—he’d said it over and over. She listened—replied at all appropriate times—and was thankful it was only the abridged version.

Tony returned to work on the January 1—from his home office. He had a lot of things to do. Apparently, he had tried to keep up-to-date while in Fiji, but someone kept him distracted. With him working in his office and her free to do as she pleased within the house, Claire soon realized how event filled the last month had been. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the sensation of solitude.

Claire arrived at Tony’s office before lunch to make her call. She expected the limitations lecture. Surprisingly, he didn’t give it. He dialed the telephone, turned his back and worked on his computers while Claire waited to speak. John answered. She prayed John wouldn’t say anything to upset Tony. “Hi, John, it’s Claire, is Emily there?”

“Hi, Claire. Welcome back to the United States. You are back, aren’t you?”

“We are, we returned on December 30.” She was sending out mental signals, put Emily on the phone!

“So, was it as beautiful as the article described?” Tony turned to Claire—she needed to conclude with John and move on to Emily—she looked at him pleadingly—she knew.

“I didn’t read the article, but it was amazing. Tony definitely took me to paradise for our honeymoon. Hey, is Emily there?”

“Oh, yes. She’s right here. Good to talk with you. Please, tell Anthony I said hello.”

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She made eye contact with him, hi. “I will, thanks, John.” She heard Emily take the receiver. Apparently, they weren’t using a speaker phone.

“Hi, Claire, how is my jet-set sister?” Claire smiled. Emily was trying her best to accept Claire’s life.

“I’m wonderful, glad to be home. How are you?” Tony turned back to his work. Emily explained that she and John were well. They wanted to thank Claire and Anthony again for the transportation. A Rawlings Industries jet took them back to Albany on Sunday following the ceremony. She also thanked them for allowing them to stay in their home, it was amazing! She asked Claire more questions about the honeymoon. Claire made it sound magical but not too over the top. Tony politely kept his back to Claire during her conversation. She knew he was listening to every word but appreciated the gesture.

After ten minutes Claire’s internal clock told her time was running out. “Well, it sure was good to see you two and to talk to you—”

Emily interrupted, “I wanted to let you know John’s been offered a job with a different company.”

This shocked Claire. She didn’t know he’d been looking for a different job. Emily said he hadn’t. It was a surprise to them too. Claire asked if it was in Albany. No, it’s either in New York City or Chicago. The company had offices at both locations—as well as others. Claire knew that meant Emily would have to leave her teaching job. Emily said she knew that. They were weighing the pros and cons. Financially—if he took the job—she wouldn’t need to work. It was a tremendous increase in pay. Claire was happy to hear that, but she knew how much Emily loved teaching.

Claire also added the pro that Chicago was much closer to her and Tony. She asked if John would be doing the same type of law? Emily said it was international corporate. He’d studied it, but for the last four years he’d practiced mostly corporate domestic. Tony pointed to his watch.

Claire told Emily she was interested, and she’d try to call again to see how things were going. She also warned, “Please think it through. Don’t just jump for the money.”

Emily said, “That’s easy for you to say.”

Claire understood, but wanted them to be happy first and foremost. Emily asked when she would hear from Claire again, and if there was a better way to contact her than Tony’s private e-mail?

Claire told she was still trying to understand the whole Mrs. Rawlings thing. So many people trying to interview her and the like—well she was sure Emily understood. So yes—Tony’s private e-mail was best. They bid each other goodbye and Tony disconnected the line.

Claire thought about the call as she stood to leave Tony’s office. “Thank you, I appreciate the chance to talk with her.” She turned to let him work.

“Claire, wait a minute.” Her first thought was that he expected some sort of gratitude. She turned back to him with fire in her eyes.

He casually leaned on his desk. “She was fishing.”

Confused, the fire still flickered. “Fishing for what? Information about our honeymoon? Honestly, Tony, she’s my sister. Maybe she’s just interested in learning about me from me—not some magazine.”

Impatiently, he asked, “Are you done?”

“Yes”—he indicated for her to sit. She did—“She was fishing to find out if you knew about John’s job offer.”

“That doesn’t make sense, how would I know—” She looked at Tony and her heart rate increased. “Why? Why would you offer John a job? I know you don’t like him.”

“I don’t like his strength and determination—He pursued the prenuptial agreement in my limousine even though he knew I didn’t want him to—He even had the balls to offer me advice—then during the rehearsal—he stood in front of me and our friends and had the audacity to not give you away.”

“I knew that upset you. We just never discussed it—before now”—Tony nodded—“Then please explain why you’d offer him a job?”

Tony smiled a devious grin. “I didn’t. Tom did. He contacted John while we were away. They’ve had two meetings in New York. John does have an amazing résumé for someone who went to law school in Indiana.”

“It’s one of the top twenty-five law schools in the country.” Claire immediately regretted defending John.

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Rawlings—I’ll let Tom know that he may contact you if a cheering section is needed for Mr. Vandersol”—Claire apologized and asked Tony to continue—“He graduated magna cum laude from Indiana University School of Law and was hired by an East Coast firm that predominately hires from within the Ivy League. He’s worked very hard, and after only four years as an associate, he’s on the fast track for partnership consideration.”

Claire wasn’t sure if it was Tony or Tom, but someone had done their homework. “All right, he has a good résumé, but you just said you don’t like him.”

“Actually, Mrs. Rawlings, I said I don’t like his strength and determination, or more accurately, they infuriated me.” He smiled again. This one wasn’t devious, more mischievous.

Claire suddenly experienced déjà vu and smiled back. “Tony, John isn’t me. He doesn’t know you as well as I do.”

“That’s good—I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“I mean, I don’t want you to be upset if he refuses your offer”—Tony lifted his eyebrows. Claire continued—“John’s worked very hard to achieve what he has in life. He may not accept your offer as being based on his résumé—but as being based on a familiar relationship.”

“You know him better, but Tom’s made him a very impressive offer. Those student loans, mortgage, and other debts you mentioned would no longer be an issue. Emily wouldn’t need to work, and they could live anywhere they wanted.”

“Emily likes her job; she loves teaching. Our mother was a teacher, up until the day she died. Emily enjoys doing what she does”—Claire realized she wasn’t facilitating the conversation—“But, I’m sure the loss of debt would be appealing. Emily could always find another teaching job. She does have over six years of experience. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if he refuses.”

“It’s interesting the lengths some people will go to reduce their debt.”

Claire chose to ignore that comment. “Has Tom given him a deadline? And what was the point of me talking with Emily but not knowing about John?”

“Tom asked for an answer by the end of January and I was curious”—this time Claire raised her eyebrows—“I wondered if Emily would come right out and ask you about the job, and I figured if you knew about it, she’d think you persuaded me to offer it to him, or more accurately—persuaded me to persuade Tom.”

Claire thought for a moment. “Well, I can honestly say it never occurred to me to ask for such a thing, and obviously Emily doesn’t realize—I don’t have that kind of influence over you.”

His smile flashed—more unscrupulous this time. “Why, Mrs. Rawlings, I believe you’ve been known to be quite persuasive.”

The enlightening conversation was done. Claire had a lot to consider. She didn’t feel good about the probability of John being employed by Rawlings Industries; however, she’d been honest—both to Emily and Tony. That’s all she could do. Honesty was always the best policy—right?

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Part of the happiness of life consists not in fighting battles, but in avoiding them. A masterly retreat is in itself a victory.

—Norman Vincent Peale

Chapter Thirty-Four

‡

The New Year began, and the routines of the past year continued. Tony left in the morning for work—Claire stayed home swimming in the indoor pool, working out in the gym, reading books, watching movies, and waiting for his return. She still relied on Catherine to inform her each evening of Tony’s plans. One change was that if he were in town—he always came to her suite. She may even be asleep—but he slept with her. Another change was that he personally informed her of any events, gatherings, or activities they would attend as a couple. Claire felt this was an improvement from Catherine’s last-minute information.

Together they attended two formal events in January. The University of Iowa held a banquet, preceded by ****tails and hors d’oeuvres, to recognize platinum donors. Mr. Anthony Rawlings—of course—was one of them. They also attended a political fund-raiser for the Iowa City District Attorney’s Office where a speaker spoke about the role of private industry in the nation’s financial recovery. Claire played her part well. She remembered all the rules of her first outing at the symphony. Now, as Anthony Rawlings’s wife, she didn’t need to be the perfect companion—she needed to be the perfect wife. She projected the persona well—beautiful, polite, contented, and appreciative.

Claire had been a newlywed over a month, and most of that time was spent wandering around her home. The continual snow and cold even restricted her from getting outside into the woods. She wondered about Courtney or Sue. Perhaps they didn’t want to see her. She hadn’t seen or talked to anyone since Emily, January 1. The walls of her beautiful home were closing in upon her.

When Tony worked from home, Claire joined him in his office—it wasn’t a requirement. She thought of it as a getaway from her normal routine. He mostly worked from Iowa City, but he also went out of town a few times. He said he wanted her with him on these business trips, but things were too busy. There would be no time for social activities, and she’d be bored. He decided it was better for her to stay home.

Claire felt increasingly claustrophobic, and Tony seemed completely unaware of her plight. Claire decided perhaps this qualified as one of those I’m a busy man. If you want something, you need to ask me situations. One night after Tony returned from a short stay in Chicago and the two lay in his dark suite, Claire decided to ask, “I would like to go with you on your next business trip.”

“I told you—things are busy—you’d be bored.”

“I’m bored now. I’ve barely been out of this house since our honeymoon. I’m going crazy.” She expected some realization, an apology for being so involved in business that he’d neglected his wife, perhaps some sweeping request for forgiveness. That wasn’t what she received. Abruptly, he turned. With his face only inches from hers, she felt his warm breath on her skin.

“Really? You’re bored?”

Resiliently she answered, “I am.”

“And you didn’t catch the end of the conversation?”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t. I’ll stay out of your way, and we don’t need to go out on the town. I just want to get out of this house.”

“You’ve received many invitations for outings.” He remained too close.

“What? What kind of invitations? And why didn’t I know about them?”

Tony explained, “You didn’t know about them—because I chose not to pass them on to you”—Claire waited while he continued—“During our wedding preparations you were extremely busy, sometimes you weren’t home when I returned—I didn’t like that”—his cadence slowed—“besides, on New Year’s Eve, you seemed to have memory issues. I decided going out as Mrs. Rawlings alone, wasn’t something you’re ready to do.”

Claire felt the anger building within her chest and feared if she spoke, her words would fan her husband’s fury—not subdue it. Therefore, she concentrated on keeping her lips pressed together as he continued, “And, I like knowing you’re home, safe and out of trouble. I have too many things on my plate right now—I don’t need to worry about you having another accident.”

She had remained silent as long as she could. Claire asked assertively, “From whom?”

“Excuse me?” Tony understood her tone—he wanted clarification on her meaning.

“The invitations I’ve received—who are they from?”

“I believe your ability to understand has diminished with your memory. I said I chose not to forward them to you. I decided you will stay home, safe. Good night.” Tony lay back on his pillow.

She lay still for what seemed like hours. Finally, his breathing slowed and became rhythmic. For the first time since he’d proposed, she didn’t want to be with him. Claire decided since they were in his suite, she could go to hers. She waited until she felt certain he was asleep, and then gently lifted the covers. Feeling for her robe she heard his booming voice rip through the darkness. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m aware the conversation is done and that I have no control in my own activities. It’s all in your hands, but at this moment, I’m also aware you don’t consider me a spouse or a partner. I’m going to my suite to ponder this information.”

“No, you are not.” Without a doubt—a conclusive statement.

At a little over 6’4” Tony’s arm span was immense. Perhaps if she hadn’t been tying her robe and putting her feet into slippers, she might have had better balance. Nevertheless, in less than a second he grasped her arm and her world tilted. She was once again lying on his bed. The weight of his upper body pinned her to the mattress. Memories of their wedding pictures came to mind—she felt small and defenseless.

“Tony, remember your promise.” Her voice sounded falsely formidable.

“Which has always been contingent upon yours.” Her chest suddenly became heavy—not from the weight of his body—but from his words. He continued, “You’re right”—she didn’t speak, unsure of her correctness—“The conversation is done and I am in total control of your activities, including where you will sleep, and which invitations you’ll accept”—the tears began to pool in her eyes—“however, you’re also mistaken. I don’t consider you a spouse—I know you are my wife—you belong to me.”

Her shoulders ached from the pressure of his forearms. His words weren’t a revelation—Claire knew she was his possession. He continued moving closer with each word. “You are staying here tonight. You are not leaving me—my bed—or my presence”—the tears flowed—“Now it’s time for you to respond appropriately.” His weight shifted slightly.

Claire remembered times in the past when she hadn’t replied quickly enough or to his liking. She focused her energy on keeping her body from trembling; however, she couldn’t concentrate on that and tears—so, her words became muffled sobs. Swallowing hard, she tried to strengthen her voice. “I will not leave you.” “Even if I left your bed tonight,” “it would’ve only been because I’m upset,” “not because I want our marriage to be over.” She took a ragged breath—imagined his dark eyes—and thanked God the room was dark.

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“Continue.”

“I will not leave your bed. I’ve agreed in the past,” “I agree now and forever” “*****bmit to your authority.” “I’m sorry if I’ve given you cause to break your promise.”

Inhaling, she tried desperately to defuse his temper. “If you recall—this entire incident started because I asked to be with you when you went away. I don’t want to leave you—I want to be with you.”

“Your ability to respond appropriately has benefited you on multiple occasions.”

He released her shoulders and laid his head on his pillow. She stopped sniffling and tried to regulate her breathing.

“Now, take off that robe.” As she obeyed he added, “I believe we’ll experiment with some other forms of response.” He rolled back toward her. “However, you are my partner. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. So, perhaps you would rather go to sleep?”

Claire knew this was one of those offers you can’t refuse her grandmother used to talk about. She answered, “No—I’d rather respond to you.” She successfully avoided the trembling and almost stopped the tears. The end result was that her head pounded to the beat of her heart, currently too rapid.

“This time it’ll not be verbal.” His hands seized her petite frame as his domineering tone claimed her spirit. “As you may recall—this conversation is over.”

Claire closed her eyes and nodded. She did her best to ignore her headache and respond to her husband. Just before they drifted to sleep, Tony offered more information. “Courtney and Sue have called multiple times—I’ll think about their invitations. Emily has called and e-mailed. John called—he respectfully declined Tom’s offer. I believe Emily can wait.”

Claire’s heart sank. This new information no doubt influenced Tony’s temperament. She wanted to believe Tony’s offer to John was made in good faith based on John’s credentials. John’s refusal didn’t surprise Claire, though she was sure it did Tony. He didn’t often experience rejection. This wasn’t the first time she received the consequences of John’s actions.

What concerned Claire the most was her relationship with her sister, would she be allowed to speak to her or see her? She kissed Tony and sounded as compliant as she could muster. “Thank you, I would really like to see Courtney and Sue.” Claire wanted to move away from him—to the far side of the king-sized bed—or better—upstairs—but she rested her head on his chest. “I promise my memory is better.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He slowly embraced her shoulder as his voice softened. “I need to be in Phoenix next week. It’s been in the seventies there—perhaps you can join me.”

She nodded her head. “Thank you—I’d like that.” They fell asleep.

The next day, using Tony’s iPhone, Claire was allowed to call both Courtney and Sue. She didn’t utilize the speaker phone, and although present, Tony didn’t question the content. Both ladies wanted to catch up and hear all about married life. Claire said she would love to. She’d check her calendar and get back to them. She also apologized for not returning their calls sooner—things were just so busy.

Much earlier than normal, the sound of Tony’s alarm woke them on February 1. Their flight to Phoenix was leaving at 7:00 AM. The trip was only planned for one night, but Claire didn’t care. They were leaving the estate and that was enough to propel her from bed to the shower. She would stay at their apartment while Tony met with associates; if all went well they’d dine out tonight. He described this apartment as one of their smaller ones. As she showered, she wondered what small really meant.

Steam filled the bathroom with a muggy fog. She secured the luxurious lavender towel around her body as Tony entered. “We aren’t going to Phoenix.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Why? Did I do something?”

Tony hugged her warm body as water dripped from her hair onto her shoulders and the floor. “No. We can’t go anywhere. Eric just called. We should’ve looked out the window.”

He took her to the tall French doors leading to her balcony. When he moved the drapes she could only see white. At least 12” of new snow had fallen on the ground, trees, balcony rail, everywhere. With the ad***ion of the 8–10” of old snow, there was now almost two feet, and it continued to fall, accompanied by wind. Barely seeing beyond the balcony, she saw drifts transforming the backyard into an ocean of white waves. Heaven knows how deep the snow was in the bigger drifts. Claire sat on the bed with large droplets gliding down her back—discouraged—and sighed.

Sitting next to her, Tony rubbed her leg. “Think of it as a snow day. Didn’t you like those when you were a kid?”

“Yeah, because I didn’t want to go to school—but now I want to go.”

He hugged her shoulder. “You want to go to school?”

Exhaling loudly, she said, “I want to go anywhere.”

Tony lifted some of her hair. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll catch pneumonia if you try to go somewhere.”

She laid her head back on the bed, pressed her lips into a tight line, and looked up at the ceiling. If she opened her mouth she would scream. She was trapped!

Leaning over her, he grinned. “How about we celebrate our newfound free day?”

She knew what he was thinking, and she didn’t want to celebrate. Telling him no was supposed to be her option; however, it hadn’t been tested, and Claire didn’t think she was emotionally strong enough for the trial. Despondently, she asked, “How do you want to celebrate?”

Still leaning over her, he said, “How about you take me to your lake?”

“What?”—Claire’s thoughts spun—The lake would be frozen and was about five miles away. Would they freeze? It was out, out of the house!—“Are you serious?” Her eyes sparkled as she tried to read her husband’s expression.

“If it makes that spark come back to your emerald eyes—I’m serious”—he kissed her forehead—“We have boots, coats, and gloves, everything needed to ski. It was one of our honeymoon options. So let’s get you dry, us fed, bundled, and find this lake I’ve heard so much about.”

“It’s about five miles away. Don’t you need to talk to the Phoenix people, let them know what happened?”

“Are you trying to discourage me? I’ll contact the Phoenix office. We can communicate later in the day. It’s still very early there, and I know I’m older, but I really think I can make five miles”—he smiled with milk chocolate eyes—“Besides, we also have cross-country skis. Do you think you can get us there on skis?”

In the midst of a Midwest blizzard, Claire was filled with more warmth and excitement than she’d felt in sometime. Their discussion a week ago left her uneasy. She didn’t like the way he’d treated her, or the way it made her feel, but once it was done—she hesitated to revisit the subject. Now, he wanted to go to her lake. “I bet it’s prettier in the summer, but I’d love to get out. I know I can find it.”

They ate breakfast, and Catherine made them thermoses of coffee. She chided both of them for even thinking about going out in the snow; however, with Tony by her side Claire knew it didn’t matter. She was going to her lake, a place she hadn’t been since her accident.

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They dressed in layers, wrapping themselves head to toe, complete with hand and foot warmers, and were out of the house before 8:00 AM. The wind had subsided but the snow still fell.

It had been many years since Claire had cross-country skied; however, the motions swiftly returned as the long slender skis and poles allowed them to glide over the 20+” of snow. At first, she worried about navigation, but with most of the ground level obstacles covered—it wasn’t difficult. Skiing was much faster than walking. They reached the clearing in less than thirty minutes. Claire told Tony all about the flowers, butterflies, and animals present in the heat of the summer.

They wore tinted goggles to shield the brightness of the snow, but she sensed his serenity as he listened to her stories. They arrived at the lake shore approximately forty minutes later. Claire wasn’t cold. She was exhilarated from the fresh air, exercise, and scenery. Green leaves and blue waters were her preference, but the snow covered the evergreens and glistening ground were beautiful. The frozen lake, covered with peaks and valleys of drifts, reminded her of a large flat cake with vanilla frosting. She felt as warm as if it were August.

*

Tony was completely enthralled by the glistening vista before him. He’d never taken the time to experience his own property. It wasn’t something he cared about or gave much consideration—until now. As they stood and watched, three deer, one six-point buck and two does, galloped at full speed from left to right across the lake. Tony stared at Claire. If the deer could do it, they could too. Skiing on the lake was effortless compared to the woods: no hills, valleys, or trees—only open space. The wind and snow had ceased. The farther west they traveled, the more of the shoreline they could see. Everything looked virgin, completely unspoiled.

After the snow ceased, other animals ventured out of their warm homes. They saw foxes and multitudes of squirrels and birds. Tony said he thought all birds went south for the winter. Claire explained not all birds migrate. She told him that in Indiana the cardinal was omnipresent. She remembered always being excited to see one in winter, it looked so red and vibrant in contrast to the stark gray of winter. Tony continued to ask questions and listen to his wife.

It was almost one when they arrived back at the house. Catherine was elated to see them. She’d been worried. She promised she would send lunch, but first wanted them to get warm. Entering Tony’s suite they found his large fireplace roaring with flames and radiating tremendous heat. Claire laughed as Tony removed his ski hat. His hair was messier than she’d ever seen and his cheeks were pink and frigid. Her giddiness amused him. He offered to help remove her winter gear. It didn’t take long to realize Fiji had been a better honeymoon destination. Snow activities required too many clothes.

When their food arrived Tony covered Claire with a blanket from his bed. She lay on the rug in front of the fireplace with the soft down comforter and Tony wore only a pair of gym shorts as Cindy wheeled in their lunch. Cindy started to put the warm foods and drink on the table, when smiling at Claire, Tony told Cindy she could leave. Cindy thanked him and left the cart.

Claire smiled at her husband, bare chested, setting their lunch on the table. “Sometimes I think you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”

He poured two cups of coffee and carried them to his wife. Joining her under the comforter he prompted, “And other times?”

Answering honestly, she said, “Other times, I don’t like you.” He looked at her with astonishment. She kissed his lips. “Today is definitely a like day.”

His smile warmed her heart as he said, “I’m glad.”

*

While eating lunch Tony asked Claire about the don’t like days. She thought about playing it off, lying, or telling him she was joking. Then she decided to be truthful. “I love you—I really do. I sometimes feel like the luckiest woman on the planet, but other times I feel like a five-year-old.” She waited. Did he understand what she was trying to say? His eyes weren’t darkening; he was listening. “I know you may not think so, but I really don’t have any intention of causing you harm. Why would I? You told me your grandfather trusted the wrong people. Was your grandmother one of them?”

Tony seemed slightly shaken by the mention of his grandfather. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m going to assume she loved him and he loved her. If they didn’t they wouldn’t have married.” Tony nodded his understanding. Claire continued, “I realize there are people who may try to hurt you or your business, but I’m not one of them.” She wasn’t sure how she could explain her feelings to him. She looked directly into his eyes. The mention of his grandfather minutely darkened them. “I don’t have a problem with you being in control of our lives—I trust you. I just wish you trusted me, so I could feel like a wife instead of a child or a possession.”

She’d been happy, but this conversation was making her sad. “I’m sorry—I’m ruining this wonderful day.” She looked down at her lunch and her cold soup. Closing her eyes she heard his chair move. Claire didn’t want him to see the tears escaping her lids. She didn’t look up.

Anthony Rawlings gently took his wife’s hand and helped her rise from her chair, then tenderly lifted her chin. Seeing her tears, he said, “Claire, it seems to me that you apologize a lot.”

She started to say she was sorry, but snickered at herself instead.

“See? See that smile you have? You can’t, but I can. It’s beautiful, even with your hair a mess—which it is, and your smile, doesn’t stop at those perfect lips—it extends to your pink wind-burned cheeks—and most dramatically—it extends to your bright, emerald green eyes.” He was bending with his nose millimeters from hers. “I apologize for not causing that smile to come out more.”

Claire felt her resolve melt as her knees weakened. Thankfully, she was being supported by his strong, steady arms.

Tony continued, “You’re right about so many things. Listening to you talk today about the different trees—snow—a blizzard—animals—and birds—you know so many things I’ve never attempted to learn, and you know me better than anyone. I’ve tried to keep my past that—the past, but you’ve managed to take the bits and pieces I’ve offered over the course of a year and weave them together into some psychological basis for your comprehension of me. I must reluctantly admit you’re correct.” She wanted to say something, but he kissed her tenderly and continued, “You have not intentionally given me reason to do anything but trust you and yet, I know I have not always behaved well. This may come as a shock, but I have issues with control”—she couldn’t help but smile—“There’s that smile.”

Tony led her to the sofa in front of the fire. Wearing a soft bathrobe she sat in front of him and leaned her head on his t-shirt covered chest as they both faced the fire. The beat of his heart and the sound of his breathing echoed in her ears. The fire radiated warmth and his skin the aroma of exercise. She felt safe and secure—but at the same time—she had the feeling of living in a house of glass. The security could crash into broken pieces at any second. He asked her what she was thinking; she answered and he didn’t respond for a long period. She was apprehensive to turn and see into his eyes.

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Finally, he spoke again. “Perhaps I’m afraid of losing you, afraid if you truly know me you won’t want to stay with me.”

She wasn’t sure, but due to his voice and breathing, she wondered if he was having difficulty staying composed. She wanted to alleviate his discomfort, tell him it was okay—he didn’t need to say anything else. She didn’t turn around as she spoke, “Tony, I’m pretty sure I know you—I’m also sure I’m still here.”

“Because, you haven’t had the opportunity to leave.” His arms were tenderly wrapped around her.

She caressed them gently with her small hands. “No—not because of that—and not because of the gifts—or the trips—or the money—I’m still here because I made a commitment to you. I did that in Central Park and again in our home—because I love you and want to be with you.”

He hugged her. “Mrs. Rawlings—I love you too. I want to trust you more and be less controlling—what I don’t want is to ever hurt you like I did—if you’re kept safely away from the world, there’s less of a chance that anything will happen which could cause me to react as I did before.”

“I used to feel that way—like I wanted to stay here and not risk the chance of upsetting you. I do not want to upset you, but Tony—that isn’t a life. Having me home waiting for you because I have no choice—and having me home waiting for you—because I want to be—are two totally different things”—she waited but he didn’t respond, so she continued—“If you would trust me, I’ll do my best to follow your rules. I’ll discuss things with you prior to doing them. I’ll check with you before I go anywhere. I understand the importance of appearances and the significance of consequences. I don’t want to upset you—I do want the opportunity to upset you.” Claire decided this conversation was easier without looking into his eyes. She could imagine small black irises with large velvet borders; however, she was certain her imagination and reality differed.

“Tell me what you want. What freedoms have I taken, that you’d like returned?”

She told herself, here is your chance, respond appropriately. “I’d like access to my own invitations. I won’t accept or decline without speaking with you, but I would like the knowledge there are other people out there who care about me. I’d like to be able to speak to my sister without being afraid you won’t let me—or be upset by my conversation. I’d like the ability to leave the estate—just because, and again, it wouldn’t happen without your consent—but just to know I can”—she listened to his breathing, the only alteration occurred when she mentioned Emily—“And I’d like you to be able to contact me directly about our evening plans—not to be told by Catherine. It makes me feel juvenile.” She’d done what she could; she’d been as honest as she could. Now, she exhaled and relaxed against his sturdy chest. She couldn’t think of anything else to say—she’d wait.

The outdoor adventure was exhilarating—cold air, brilliant snow, and muscle exertion from skiing. The warming up process had been remarkable—crackling fire, soft rug, and tender lovemaking. The lunch was warm—soup, Panini, and hot coffee. Now they’d shared, talked, and been totally honest with one another. Feeling drained, Claire’s body melted against his. She waited for his response, knowing her fate didn’t rest in her own hands. She had no choice but to trust the man who had her wrapped affectionately in his arms. Closing her eyes she listened to his heart, his breathing, and drifted off to sleep.

Nobody can go back and start a new beginning but anyone can start today and make a new ending.

—Maria Robinson

Chapter Thirty-Five

‡

Grandma Nichols once said—the only constant in life is change. Claire prayed those changes would be good. After their heart-to-heart, she began to see small signs that gave her hope.

The afternoon of their talk, she awoke on the leather sofa in Tony’s suite. Hugging the warm comforter, she gazed around. The diminishing daylight accentuated by the glow of the crackling fire illuminated the room. She was alone. At first, she assumed her husband was in the adjoining bath or dressing room, but open doors and silence soon told her otherwise. This had never happened. His suite had technology. She’d seen him use it. The large framed screen could access the world at a click of a remote.

Tentatively, Claire rose and walked to his bureau. The top left drawer contained that key to accessibility. She didn’t want to point and click—she needed to know if she could. The internal monologue began Can Tony see me? He’d never talked about cameras in his suite. Did they exist? Is this a test? A trap? She asked for the ability to upset him. Claire decided she needed to know if she’d been granted that chance.

Her hand trembled as she gripped the slender handle. What if the drawer was locked or the remote was gone? Calling upon her courage and strength, she pulled. Through the darkness and into the ****rnous depth, she saw it—silver with black buttons. The remote was there, available to her. Emotions swept through her—relief—she was getting the chance she requested. Happiness—he was trusting her. Sadness—she couldn’t touch it. Fear—would he catch her? She listened for the sound of footsteps—or worse—doors opening. The only sound came from the fireplace. Claire carefully closed the drawer, walked back to the sofa, and collapsed onto the soft cushions. The flames flickered as the scene melted before her moistening eyes. She pulled her knees into her chest and watched the blaze before her. Fear and sadness pushed relief and happiness away. Summoning the happiness, she told herself—this was a good thing. She attempted to regain her composure before she left his suite.

About a week later, she sat perched on a high stool with her Gucci heeled boots teetering on a wooden rod, listening to her friend’s voice—more evidence of progress. Claire loved Courtney’s company. She could talk enough for the both of them—making Claire laugh in the process. Today, Courtney was talking about the Red Cross, the amazing job it did responding to natural disasters and helping the citizens of Iowa and the United States. She explained the financial problems facing the organization with donations decreasing and needs increasing. Courtney was the fund-raising chairman for the Quad City Chapter. She asked Claire to help with her committee, believing they had the connections to individuals and businesses who were surviving the economic slowdown. They could use those connections to help raise money. She asked Claire which fund-raisers she thought would be most profitable. They discussed the pros and cons of an auction—banquet—sports—tournament—or raffle—there were so many possibilities. Courtney wanted to exceed last year’s goal.

The pub where they sat was electric with energy. Located on the University of Iowa’s campus, its tables overflowed mostly with students coming and going. The hum of voices combined with the sound of moving chairs caused Claire’s toes to wiggle with excitement. She hadn’t been around this many people in so long. She longed to absorb all the vitality. Claire told Courtney with a degree in meteorology, the idea of assisting with a charity which aided with the disasters she used to forecast, appealed to her.

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Courtney gave her a folder of information. It contained a calendar of scheduled committee meetings and a list of committee members’ names, e-mail addresses, and telephone numbers. As Claire ate her salad, she scanned the contents. This volunteering would be more time consuming than she’d realized. That was great. Of course, she knew she would need to run it all by Tony, but how would it appear if Mrs. Anthony Rawlings wasn’t willing to help charities? Besides, he’d allowed this outing, knowing Courtney intention—more evidence.

Courtney stood to get them both more coffee, and Claire looked around the restaurant. She couldn’t believe her exhilaration at being out with a friend. Between Courtney and the surroundings she feared her chest would pop. The people at the other tables looked so carefree. They probably took their freedoms for granted—Claire knew she used to. Exhaling, she thought about her husband. He was trying to consider her requests. She smiled as she remembered him telling her to call Courtney.

Everything seemed normal as he entered her suite and talked about his day. It was as he entered the bathroom for a shower that his words stunned her. “Claire, I almost forgot, Courtney would like you to call her. My iPhone is on the bookcase. Her number is in the address book under Courtney S., help yourself.” Then he turned and closed the door. Claire stared. Was it really him? The other times she called from any phone he’d dialed. She worried perhaps she imagined the whole scene. Her legs wobbled as she walked toward his phone. Slowly, she picked it up and went through the address book. She scrolled until she saw Courtney S. There were many names. She continued to scroll and saw Emily V., John V., and John V. home. She scrolled back to Courtney S. and hit the dial icon. The screen indicated the call was in progress. It didn’t last long and Claire believed her clammy hands and shaking knees weren’t detectable on the other end. Most excitedly, she’d made a call which led to this lunch.

When Courtney returned, she set the mugs on the table. Their salads were gone and the Red Cross had been thoroughly discussed. It had been fun. Now they were having some more coffee and chatting before returning home. Gently, Courtney reached out and held Claire’s hand. Suddenly, Claire felt uneasy. With as much practice as she had maintaining eye contact in difficult situations—she looked away from her friend—Courtney’s pale blue eyes showed too much concern.

“I’m so glad you’ve agreed to help me,” Courtney spoke softly and slowly.

Claire’s uneasiness made her want to pull her hand away. Instead, she smiled. “I’m happy I can help you and others.”

“Claire, you don’t need to be perfect all the time. You don’t need to say everything perfectly, look perfect, and be perfect. Life isn’t a test you must continually pass”—Claire stared silently at her friend, afraid her voice might crack as the energy of the room evaporated—“I just want you to know, Brent and I have known Tony for a long time…”—Claire swallowed. She’d heard this speech from everyone who knew her husband and entitled it the Great Man Speech—usually accompanied by he works so hard—“And he can be a pompous—condescending—controlling ass.”

Claire’s eyes grew wide and her head dropped. She didn’t cry—she laughed—suddenly and uncontrollably—bordering on hysteria. It wasn’t good for appearances. Apparently, her laughter was contagious because Courtney started laughing, too. People looked at them. Fleetingly, Claire didn’t care. After a few moments, she regained enough composure to ask, “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

“Honey, you heard me. I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I said”—Courtney squeezed Claire’s hand again—“Don’t get me wrong, I love your husband, but, let me be honest, sometimes I hate him too”—Claire nodded—she completely understood—“It’s all right; however, it’s not all right for you to feel alone”—Claire listened—“Your husband loves you. I see it in his eyes when he looks at you. I’ve never seen him look at another woman the way he looks at you. He also has demons—ones I can’t even begin to understand—he also has serious issues with control. He can drive Brent crazy sometimes.”

Claire’s uneasiness returned. “Courtney, I think maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Tony would say we shouldn’t be having this conversation. What do you say?”

Claire didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted the conversation to end—it made her uncomfortable. The other part of her wanted to talk—to open up and feel connected to someone in this world—someone besides Tony. “I think maybe it would be better not to speak about Tony.”

“All right, I respect you. I respect you for marrying Tony and for your inability to talk”—Claire tried desperately to maintain her mask—“I’ve tried my very best to make you comfortable. I want you to feel relaxed with me.”

“I do Courtney. I consider you my friend.”

“Honey, I am your friend—you’re my friend—and Tony’s a dear friend, too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.”

“Thank you, but you don’t need to worry about me—I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I recognize fine, and sometimes when you’re with us, you are fine. Other times you only seem fine”—Claire didn’t know what to say—“It must be difficult *****ddenly be thrust into Tony’s world. He puts a lot of significance on appearance. Well, maybe he hasn’t mentioned that to you.” Courtney started to stand to leave.

Tears began to escape down Claire’s cheeks. Her voice was barely an audible whisper, “Courtney, please sit back down”—Courtney did—“If Tony knew we were having this conversation, I wouldn’t be able to have lunch with you again, and perhaps it could affect Brent’s job. I know they’re best friends, but with Tony, I’m not sure there are boundaries.” Courtney was at least twenty years Claire’s senior, yet she listened earnestly, recognizing the sincerity of the younger woman’s tone.

“So my intuitions aren’t unwarranted”—Claire shook her head and Courtney spoke softly—“Claire, are you all right?”

“Courtney, I think we need to go back to your SUV. I’m uncomfortable having this conversation and I’m definitely uncomfortable having it in a public place.”

They stood, put on their warm coats, gathered their purses, and walked to Courtney’s SUV. The break in the conversation and fresh cool air gave Claire time to regroup. Alarms sounded in her head. If she chose to continue this discussion she’d be breaking rules: number one, do as you’re told. She’d been told on multiple occasions the importance of appearances and not divulging private information. This was her first time out alone as Mrs. Anthony Rawlings—if she wanted to be involved with the Red Cross and wanted more freedoms. Breaking rules would not facilitate those goals. They walked to the car in silence.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Claire buckled her seat belt and straightened her posture. She knew what she would say, “Courtney, thank you for your support. You’re right. I’ve been overwhelmed by the responsibility of becoming Tony’s wife. He’s been supportive and understanding and is helping me recognize the significance of and the obligations accompanying that title. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you’re willing to help me, too.”

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Courtney understood—Claire had just ended the conversation. “I’m glad you’re feeling better about it. Just know that sometimes women pick up on things men don’t—even very observant men. I hope it’ll help you to know I’m quite perceptive, and I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

Claire thanked her again and asked her a question about the Red Cross. While driving, Courtney asked if Claire and Tony had special plans for Tony’s birthday, this weekend. Claire was taken aback. She didn’t know it was her husband’s birthday; however, he hadn’t known it was her birthday either.

“I don’t believe we do. Tony seems to be very low-key about birthdays.”

Courtney declared it was settled, they would do something together. She told Claire about a bar in Rock Island with live music, good food, and a fun atmosphere. Courtney thought it would be good for all of them. Claire promised to discuss it with Tony and let her know. They debated the best day; Tony’s birthday was on Saturday. Either Friday or Saturday would work for the Simmons. When Claire got out of the car she invited Courtney inside—Courtney declined.

Claire leaned over and hugged her. “Thank you for everything”—she looked directly into Courtney’s caring blue eyes—“I’m looking forward to helping you and you helping me.” She grabbed her Prada handbag and the charity information.

Catherine let her know Mr. Rawlings would be home for dinner in her suite at seven. Suite meant casual, but Claire decided she wanted to make the night special. She wanted him to know how grateful she was for the small freedom. She also knew she’d experienced an excellent opportunity to upset him and avoided it. She wouldn’t share that information—but in her mind it gave them more reason for celebration.

Tony was pleasantly surprised by Claire’s appreciation and enthusiasm. When she showed him the schedule of committee meetings he said it would be a week-by-week decision. Circumstances can change; however, he didn’t anticipate any glitches—she didn’t either.

During dinner she mentioned, “I learned a secret about you today.”

“I wasn’t aware I had any secrets from you.”

Claire smiled. “I learned Saturday is your birthday.”

His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. “I thought since I missed your special day—we could miss mine.”

“Well, Courtney thinks we should all go to the Rock Island Brew Company.”

“I know the place—I’ve been there.”

Claire waited for him to agree to the celebration. Finally, she asked, “I promised Courtney I’d get back to her about it, would you like to go Friday night or Saturday night?” His agitated expression made her uncomfortable. She realized this was a subject he didn’t want to continue. “Or, would you rather I told her we’ll celebrate on our own?”

“I will think about it and get back to Courtney”—the discussion was done and Claire didn’t know their plans.

The next evening Claire sat surrounded by papers when Tony entered her suite. Dressed and ready for dinner, she was completely absorbed in the financial information of the Iowa Red Cross. He looked at her mess and placed two large leather-bound photo albums on top of her papers. Claire looked at the albums and then at her husband. “Good evening, what are these?”

He bent to kiss her and the tips of his lips moved upward. “They’re proofs of the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” Quickly, forgetting the mounds of paper, she began looking through the albums. The only pictures she’d seen were the ones on New Year’s Eve. The first album began with prewedding poses. The estate, the men, the women, everything and everyone looked beautiful. Then ones of Claire and John prior to walking down the aisle. Tony watched as she turned each page, she was afraid to linger on the photos of John and Emily, she would look at them later. The next, were a series of Claire approaching Tony and him waiting. She had to admit—she looked beautiful. Tony added adjectives—stunning, amazing, gorgeous, and striking. They both appeared to be brimming with love and adoration. There were photos from multiple directions—some very artsy.

Their food arrived and they still had a full album to view. After dinner they spent the entire evening on the sofa in front of the fire, going over and over each photo. They talked about the people, decorations, and ceremony. There were numerous posed photos of the two of them in the grand hall and at the base of the stairs. She laughed at ones where the photographer put her up a few steps, trying to make her taller. “You know, if you’d married one of those models you dated they wouldn’t have had to do that.”

He kissed her tenderly and gazed at her with soft brown eyes. “I didn’t want to marry any of those women. I’ve never wanted to marry anyone but you.” He could melt her heart so easily.

The next photos were of the reception. They both agreed the guests seemed to enjoy themselves. Then pictures of them dancing—Claire remembered her overwhelming desire as Tony directed her around the floor. “I love watching your eyes sparkle as you look at these photos.” She told him how much she enjoyed their reception, especially the dancing. “Well, it won’t be the same, but we can try to relive that dancing on Saturday for my birthday.”

Claire smiled—they were going to celebrate. “I don’t know how I can possibly choose which pictures I like best.”

“Then don’t choose. You can have them all.” Placing one arm around her and flipping the pages back, and added, “This one of you on the stairs, with your gown all around you, I want that one—I want it enlarged over the grand fireplace in the sitting room.”

Claire wrinkled her nose. “That’s silly—I don’t want to see me great-big every day.”

“I don’t care. I do—and I will. Actually, I think I’ll contract an artist to paint it.” He leaned back and smiled. Claire just shook her head—stopping him from doing something he wanted to do was beyond her ability.

Next, she saw the family photo of her, Tony, and the Vandersols. “Tony, can we have copies of some of these made for Emily and sent to them?” She only said Emily on purpose—but the them should have been her.

He sighed. “Yes, that can be done.”

Claire knew she should drop the subject, but sometimes she couldn’t stop herself. “Has Emily tried to contact me anymore?”

“Yes.”

Claire didn’t reply. He knew what she wanted—if she persisted it would be arguing or pleading—if he changed his mind—he would let her know. Besides, they were having a nice evening with the wedding pictures; she directed the conversation back to the album. “Look at this picture of MaryAnn and Eli. They were hilarious!” The Vandersol conversation ended.

Trust not too much to appearance.

—Virgil

Chapter Thirty-Six

‡

The birthday was a success. Tony and Brent joked that with late-night partying they shouldn’t drive an hour home, so everyone rode together in the limousine. The Brew Company was vibrant with music resonating from multiple sections of the large warehouse style building. The main stage had a Tribute to Jazz performance. Courtney reserved a premium table and told the restaurant they were celebrating a birthday. The people at The Brew Company didn’t know his name, only that Tony was the guest of honor. Claire, Courtney, and Brent laughed as the singer acknowledged him with a ren***ion of Hey Big Spender and wrapped him in her feather boa. Watching Tony’s tolerance, Claire decided she could learn a lot from Courtney—he seemed to accept things from her Claire wouldn’t dare to attempt.

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A week later, Tony invited Claire to Chicago for two nights. Even though she needed to cancel a committee meeting, she wanted to go. It was even her idea to go to the spa and lighten her dark roots. Brent and David Field—whom Claire met what seemed like a lifetime ago—on her first trip to New York—were with them as they flew to Chicago. Claire sat on the sofa while the three men discussed their impending meetings. To pass the time, she looked through her purse and was pleased to have her new ID and cre*** card. Claire didn’t care about their money, but shopping was one of the few pass times Tony granted without hesitation.

Her old driver’s license was a Georgia—issued ID. She thought it was interesting to see the difference in different states licenses. She soon realized the variances didn’t stop with the issuing state—the new one contained her name, Claire Rawlings, and printed at the top was VALID IDENTIFICATION. Her Georgia ID had said VALID DRIVER’S LICENSE. She hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t something she should bring up with Brent and David present but decided it was worth discussing when they were alone.

Claire spent the afternoon at the spa lightening her hair and receiving a manicure and pedicure. When she arrived back at the apartment, Charles informed Mrs. Rawlings, Mr. Rawlings would be detained until after 9:00 PM. He could happily serve her dinner at a more appropriate hour. She declined, “Thank you, Charles; I’ll wait for Mr. Rawlings.”

While dining, Claire sensed Tony multitasking. He was eating and conversing with her, but his mind was elsewhere with Brent and David on some big deal. He talked about the next evening. Hopefully, they would be able to go out to dinner and perhaps to a show. It all depended on his meetings. Claire said it sounded great, but she understood if his work went late. She planned to spend the entire day shopping and knew they were scheduled to go home on Thursday.

As Claire contemplated the best way to bring up her question, Tony did it for her. “You’re going shopping tomorrow? Did you see your new ID and cre*** card? They should be in your wallet.”

“I did, and I was wondering why my new ID isn’t a driver’s license?”

Tony momentarily stopped eating and looked at Claire as if she’d asked why is the sky blue or why do birds fly? It seemed as though the only word missing from his next sentence was Duh. “Because you don’t drive.” His tone wasn’t cruel—perhaps cold.

She thought carefully about her response. “I haven’t driven since I’ve been with you—but I used to drive and enjoyed it.”

“You now have access to a driver. You didn’t before—correct?”

“Correct—however, you have a driver and you still drive. The Simmons’ have a driver and Courtney drives.”

Tony’s annoyance with this conversation came through loud and clear, his words were flat with restraint. “Claire, this is a ridiculous conversation. You have a driver or you’re with me. You have no need to drive.”

“Tony, you are obviously busy with work. We can discuss this later.”

*

Throughout the past year there were numerous instances when Tony purposely baited Claire. He liked to observe her reactions. Initially, it was done maliciously. It intrigued him to see how far he could push. Lately it had become a private game. He found her self-control and resilience incredibly ***y. The restraint she demonstrated to refrain from arguing, when clearly her body language screamed fight, was stimulating.

This evening Tony was not playing a game. His mind was set—Claire would not be driving. The fact they were even discussing the subject seemed absurd. “Let me help you—it has been a long day and this discussion is over. It does not need to be revisited.”

*

She thought about saying, “Fine—I’m going to bed.”

Before she could, he continued, “I would offer you the opportunity to decide on your own if it is worth continuing, but I have decided not to take that risk—it isn’t.”

Her chest expanded and contracted as she released a sigh. Looking at her husband, she kept her lips together and remained silent. He watched her neck stiffen and eyes flash. He waited. After a prolonged silence, confident of her compliance, he continued. “Now, tell me about your day at the spa.”

Claire did her best to feign enthusiasm and replied, “It was very nice. They always do a great job and make me feel special.” Thinking as opposed to how I’m feeling right now.

A wall of glass extended from ceiling to floor behind Tony. Through the night sky, Claire saw the head and tail lights of vehicles moving around the windy city. Somewhere deep in her soul she wondered will I ever drive again?

Chicago was uneventful. She shopped without accidentally providing an interview. They dined at a steak house not far from the Tower and went to the Cadillac Palace Theater for Les Miserables. Claire saw the same musical many years ago from the nosebleed section. It was one of her favorite live shows—a winner of seven Tony Awards—she didn’t mind seeing it again. It amazed her they could get such exceptional seats. The night before Tony didn’t know if they would be attending a show. Les Miserables had been sold out for months, yet they were seated in a premium box enjoying the outstanding performance.

Apparently, Tony’s dealings were successful because they and Brent were able to go back to Iowa as planned. David stayed behind to finalize some contracts. Reading her book, Claire observed Tony with Brent, sensing a difference from the accustomed friendly casual interaction. Watching and listening to them discuss business issues reminded her of Courtney’s comment, “He can drive Brent crazy sometimes.” She hadn’t seen it before, but understood it now.

Tony’s repertoire of personalities included an overpowering domineering force which apparently was reserved for those closest to him. Claire had plenty of personal experience with this personality, but she’d never had the opportunity to observe it directed at someone else. Today she witnessed Tony’s manipulative rule being unleashed on Brent—it wasn’t pretty. She understood how Brent could relay things to Courtney—because that’s what real couples do—and Courtney could hate and love Tony at the same time. Pretending to be absorbed in her book, Claire didn’t want to be included in the conversation, or for her presence to make Brent uncomfortable—it obviously wasn’t affecting Tony.

The last week of February, Claire and Tony prepared for an interview with Vanity Fair Magazine. Shelly, Tony’s publicist, made a point to come to their house and explain to Claire that this interview was important to Mr. Rawlings’s public relations. There were many speculations in the media about the two of them, their fast wedding, and lack of prenuptial agreement. This would be their way to shape and control the information. Claire thought it was a nice gesture. Truthfully, if Tony told her to do the interview, she would do it. What surprised Claire was the extent of planning and preparation which went into it.

Shelly agreed to Vanity Fair because of their willingness to work openly. They gave her a list of questions. She deleted, added, and tweaked them until both parties were satisfied. Then Tony and Claire were given the questions and time to work on their spontaneous answers. Next, with Shelly’s assistance, they practiced and modified their answers. She arranged for cosmetologists, beauticians, and clothing designers to assist them before the photo shoot. Shelly promised to be present throughout the entire interview and photo session. She would step in and stop any unapproved questions. This was better than Mr. or Mrs. Rawlings refusing to answer a question or appearing unaccommodating. The article would then be reviewed and approved prior to publication.

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Claire thought the whole thing was hilarious. Did all people go through this before an interview? There was a time in her life when she read a celebrity interview and assumed it was as it appeared. Being Mrs. Rawlings continued to teach her so much.

The day of the interview finally arrived. The people who came to make Claire and Tony beautiful arrived early, before 7:30 AM. By the time Shelly arrived they both looked like models. Just another day sitting around the house! Claire thought as she looked in the mirror at her professional make-up and styled hair.

Catherine assumed the challenge of the house-it sparkled. Even the weather received the perfection memo. Not realizing it was late February, the sun shone through a sapphire blue sky, and a fresh layer of snow blanketed the gray dingy ground, adding luster to the outdoors.

Anne Robinson, the reporter from Vanity Fair, arrived promptly at nine accompanied by a photography crew. The Rawlings were only introduced to the lead photographer, Shaun Stivert. The plan commenced with photos first, while Claire and Tony looked fresh and beautiful. Then they progressed to the interview. The whole process was more work than Claire imagined.

Shelly was true to her word and omnipresent. She didn’t hesitate to say, “No, I think this would be better,” or, “We went over this. You know that won’t be discussed today.” Claire studied her lines well, knowing what to say and how to say it. Tony practiced too. Claire thought they both sounded sincere and spontaneous. The Vanity Fair crew finally left after 1:00 PM with Shelly not far behind. Before she left, she said, “I think that went very well. I’ll let you know as soon as I have an approved copy.”

Once everyone was gone, Claire relished the quiet house again, while her head pounded behind her eyes. The headaches weren’t as frequent as they were right after her accident; however, when they struck they could be debilitating. Sleeping in a very dark room was the best remedy.

Following the interview Claire accompanied her husband to his office. He hoped to accomplish as much work as possible from home; driving into Iowa City would be counterproductive this late in the day. Claire closed her eyes and enjoyed the peacefulness as Cindy placed their food on the long shiny table. After pouring their coffee she asked if they needed anything else.

“No, you may go.” Tony replied before he turned to Claire and asked, “How do you think it went?”

She opened her eyes to focus. “I really think it went well. It was more draining than I expected. I can’t wait to see the final article.”

“Shelly said we should have a draft by next week. It’s supposed to be the cover story for the April publication, so it won’t hit the newsstands for a while.” Claire shook her head. She couldn’t believe her marriage would warrant a cover story for anything, much less Vanity Fair. The food and coffee helped her head, but she suspected it’d gone too far. A nap was the real remedy. Once they finished eating, Tony walked over toward his desk.

“Do you need me? I’d like to go upstairs. The morning wore me out,” Claire asked, as she stood to leave.

He picked up a manila folder and handed it to her. “I’d like you to stay here while you look at these.” She took the folder to the sofa and sat down. The content of the folder was a mystery. She suddenly had visions of Tony with the Mere***h Banks interview. Sometimes compartmentalized memories would sneak out.

She opened the folder to find over an inch thick stack of papers. They were printed e-mails. Her mind moved slowly, exhausted from the interview process and dulled from her headache. Confused, she asked, “What are these?”

“Your invitations.” Granting her another freedom—he watched as she read. She looked at the top e-mail:

To: Anthony Rawlings, [email protected] /* */

From: Courtney Simmons, [email protected] /* */

Date: February 25, 2011

Subject: For Claire, attachment

Please let Claire know that our meeting is scheduled for next Wednesday at noon, but I would like to get together before that so we can brainstorm. We need to get the fund-raising calendar set by the next meeting. Attached is a file she needs to review. If one of you could let me know when a good time to get together is I would appreciate it. —Courtney

(Paper clipped to the e-mail was a five-page report)

Claire didn’t know what to say, finally she weakly managed, “Thank you.” He didn’t reply, but watched and continued to evaluate her response. She went back to the stack. The e-mail under Courtney’s was from Emily. It too was dated February 25, 2011; however—it was a series of correspondences.

February 25, 2011

Hi, it is me again. I realize that Claire is busy with her new responsibilities, but I would like to talk to her. I’m usually home most evenings. It has been almost two months. I have sent many e-mails and tried numerous times to call. Thank you, Emily.

February 11, 2011

Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time.

Patricia M.

February 9, 2011

Hello, this is Emily Vandersol, again. Could you please inform Mrs. Rawlings that her sister would like to speak to her? Thank you.

February 2, 2011

Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time.

Patricia M.

February 1, 2011

Hello, Emily Vandersol here. I’m the sister of Mrs. Rawlings. I’m not sure who is replying to these e-mails. I have attempted to reach Mr. Rawlings to no avail. Please inform Mr. Rawlings or Mrs. Rawlings that my husband and I would like to talk with them. We would be happy to meet them if they plan a trip to New York, or a telephone call would be acceptable. I look forward to your response.

January 23, 2011

Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time.

Patricia M.

January 22, 2011

Hello, Anthony, are you receiving my e-mails? I know that you have learned of John’s decision. I would like to talk to you and Claire. We need to be sure this job thing doesn’t affect our family relationship. Let me talk to you about John and his reasoning. Please pass this on to Claire. I will be home all weekend, she can call anytime. Thanks. Em.

January 17, 2011

Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time.

Patricia M.

January 15, 2011

Hi, Anthony and Claire, I had hoped we could talk, but I haven’t been able to reach you. John is meeting with Tom on Monday. It would be nice if I could talk with Claire and settle a few things before John’s meeting. I hope you check your e-mails on the weekend. I will be waiting for your or Claire’s call. By the way, I saw some of your wedding photos in the grocery store this morning. You two looked wonderful. Please call.

January 4, 2011

Mrs. Rawlings is unable to respond to your request at this time.

Patricia M.

January 3, 2011

Hi, Anthony, I need to speak to Claire again. I’m not sure if she told you, but I brought up John’s job offer the other day. I’ve been thinking about it, and feel guilty. It wasn’t fair of me to talk to her about it. I know you all have a lot going on. John wanted to know if she had anything to do with your offer. I could tell she really didn’t know about it. I need to tell her I’m sorry for putting her in a difficult position. I appreciate what you are offering John. I am trying to stay out of his decision process. But I would like to talk to Claire some more; it was so nice to see more of her during the wedding. Please ask her to call me, and tell her I love her. The photos of you two on the news were amazing. Thanks again for the transportation and the stay in your home. It was beautiful. Thank you, Emily