Chapter Fourteen
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Wednesday arrived sooner than Claire hoped. Since the discovery of her lake oasis, she spent every day there and returned to the house by 6:00 PM, as promised. Truly, the first night was close. She even needed to run part of the way, but she made it. Now, she knew the way and knew each direction took an hour and forty-five minutes to walk.
As the week progressed, Claire took more supplies: a blanket, a book, and her lunch with water to drink. She even started wearing her bathing suit under her shorts so she could sunbathe on the shore. The bathing suit was a lot like underwear. This rebellious act brought a smile to her face.
Nearing the lake, she began to recognize the sights, sounds, and scents—a clean fresh aroma penetrating 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’d felt as low as she had felt since her arrival—actually—in her entire life. She wanted out and would have been willing to die to accomplish that goal—if only the means had been present.
Now, she was thankful that they weren’t. When he returned, he’d be the same, but she would be different. He hurt her—not just physically—but also emotionally—down to her core. Since her arrival, he humiliated her routinely and seemed to enjoy humiliating her. Forcing her to 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 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, birds sing, and waves lap the shore. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she also knew the routine. There would be breaks when he needed to travel and hopefully be gone—faraway for long periods of time. She would live for those breaks, until the time came when her debt was paid and she’d be the one to leave.
It didn’t surprise Claire that Catherine didn’t know the time of his arrival. It was part of his game—a test to learn if she’d read his note—if she’d be prepared. Claire knew what she needed to do. When he arrived she planned to be ready, and she was.
Wednesday afternoon, Claire ate lunch in her suite and sat on the sofa reading a book, a crime novel—except it was funny—the fifth in a series. She didn’t know for sure how many there were—but she enjoyed reading them. Since she didn’t know when he would arrive, she didn’t want to risk being away from her suite. Claire painstakingly chose her attire: white capris, a black and white top which accentuated her figure, and black sandals with a shorter heel. Since March, her hair had lightened and grown quite long. She styled it half up and half down, with the ends curled, and her make-up was flawless. If he didn’t show up until later, she had another outfit prepared. Claire planned to meet him head-on. The miserable wretched woman he left was gone.
The door opened without warning. Claire’s heart skipped a beat, but she controlled her breathing, and remained still. She appeared relaxed as she looked up from her book. Tony walked in and greeted her, “Good afternoon, Claire.”
Slowly, she placed her bookmark in her book, laid the book on the end table, and stood. Her smile radiated as pleasant a welcome as she could muster. Her mask was not only on—but polished. “Good afternoon, Anthony”—their eyes met—“It’s nice to have you home. How was your trip?”
She didn’t walk toward him, but stood straight, tall, and defiant. He stepped forward. As their proximity decreased, he watched for her reaction. With their bodies nearly touching he looked down into her eyes. She stood her ground, smiling, waiting for his reply. She knew asking for a verbal answer to her question wasn’t a good idea, so she remained silent and maintained eye contact.
“My trip was long. I’m pleased with your greeting. Does this mean your temper tantrum, from before my trip, has reached its conclusion?”
She could smell his cologne and feared if she inhaled too deeply, their chests would touch. “Yes, I believe it has. I apologize for my behavior. It was childish and unnecessary.”
*
He grinned, trying to decipher if her words were sincere or if she was playing him. His tone and words tried to enlist her motivation. “As I recall, a great deal of your behavior was far from childish”—he paused—no reaction—“but my memory could be failing me, it has been a long trip. I know how we could find out”—another pause—no reaction—“or review?”
Claire didn’t react. She didn’t take his bait. Instead, she responded, “You’re right, it was very adult. I’d be glad to do whatever it is you tell me to do again. I believe I have a debt to repay; my goal is to make that happen sooner rather than later. Fulfilling my contract is the means to that end.”
He pulled her against him and looked down into her eyes. He saw a fire, one which ten days ago had been dowsed with tears. She smiled, said all the right things, but her eyes were fighting. He bent down and kissed her. It started slowly, but soon became hard and forceful. She hesitated for only a split second and responded with equal force. Tony hadn’t intended for their reunion to go this direction. He’d expected someone different.
About 6:30 PM he used his cell phone to call the kitchen and have dinner brought to her suite. The flight was long. By 9:30 PM he was sound asleep in her bed.
*
For a few moments she sat up in bed and watched him. She still loathed him, but Claire felt she’d won this battle. She stood strong and quieted the fury in his approach. She gave in without incidence, making him less aggressive. The final outcome would be similar no matter the mode, but this way it happened—without violence and without video replay. To Claire that was a victory. She read her book for a few hours before joining him in sleep.
The next morning when she awoke, he was gone. She knew the tedious schedule of her daily duties had resumed. She didn’t mope. Instead, she headed to the exercise room and worked out, back to her suite and showered, then ate breakfast and learned of Tony’s location. Today, he was at the office, not home. She sighed with relief. That meant she had until 5:00 PM to do whatever she wanted. Already 10:00 AM, traveling to and from the lake, a three-and-a-half-hour journey, would monopolize her day. She would need to get up earlier on days she wanted to go there. Perhaps, that would be something she did on days he was out of town. Claire would miss her lake, but she was determined she wouldn’t risk losing her piece of paradise. She’d wait until a better time to go. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t go into the woods for a walk. So she did. Just get away from the cameras felt liberating.
She spent at the pool, returned to her suite, showered, and was ready for instructions by 5:00 PM. Catherine brought word: Mr. Rawlings would be home and they would dine in the dining room at 7:00 PM. Claire didn’t need Catherine’s help with appropriate clothing—dining room meant formal. She knew how to follow the rules.
At 6:45 PM Claire went down to the sitting room and waited for dinner. A little after 7:00 PM Tony joined her. “Good evening, Claire.”
“Good evening, Anthony.” They walked to the dining room.
“I went to your suite expecting to find you there.”
“I apologize. I was told dinner would be in the dining room at 7:00 PM, I didn’t want to be late.” She emphasized her obedience to his rules. Tony pulled out a chair, she sat. She couldn’t help notice his eyes—black as night. She knew her impudence had an effect on him, and she needed to be cautious. She was walking a slim hazardous line.
“Your punctuality is dutifully noted. It seems my absence has helped you remember who’s in charge and what guidelines you are to follow.”
“Yes, your absence was advantageous on many counts.” She placed the napkin on her lap. Tony’s eyes were piercing. After a prolonged silence, Claire decided to lighten the mood. “I believe it helped me recognize I owe you much, not just the money to repay my debt, but the confidence you’ve shown in me.” He was listening, “The confidence to trust me with your intimate beliefs”—she paused and waited. He didn’t comment—“I will not betray that confidence.”
Cindy and Carlos entered the dining room, placed plates with food, and poured water and tea. Claire and Tony remained silent until after the staff exited.
“Claire, if you’re sincere, you never cease to amaze me. If, however, you’re playing me—you will regret it.” His eyes were intense, probing for answers to her motivation.
“Tony, what would I gain by playing you? I’m aware my present, future, and release are solely in your hands. I’m sorry for my behavior before you left.” She was pretty sure she sounded earnest.
Tony seemed satisfied. He didn’t tell her it was all right, instead he changed the subject, and they ate. After dinner they went out to the gardens for a stroll. It was there he asked about her hikes in the woods. How far did she walk? Where did she go? How long was she gone? Claire didn’t want to tell him about the lake, but she was afraid to lie. He saw on the video surveillance she left the yard at one time and didn’t return until another.
She told him about the multiple clearings, insects, flowers, and animals—and the lake. He seemed surprised. He said he’d seen it years ago on his flyovers, but it had to be six or seven miles from the house. Suddenly, she worried. “Is it still on your land?”
Appreciating her concern, he told her yes, she’d stayed on his land. While they conversed, his eyes lightened. He reached into his breast pocket and brought out a black velvet box. “I found these for you in Italy. I thought they made a nice complement to your necklace.”
Claire opened the box. Inside, she discovered a pair of pearl earrings. The large cream colored pearls were almost identical in size and color to the one on her grandmother’s necklace; however, they were offset by white gold circles. They were pretty—but different. Claire tried to understand his meaning.
Tony explained, “Your necklace is a cross, which is an X on its side. Now your earrings are O’s—X’s and O’s.” He smiled.
It wasn’t as if she suddenly liked him, she didn’t; however, she appreciated the thought he put into his gift. It was a sweet and unexpected gesture. “Thank you, Tony. It was very kind of you to think of me during your busy trip.”
They made it through this storm. Leaving wasn’t an option, but they seemed to reach an understanding. Tony knew he was in control. He didn’t need to prove it. Claire knew she was in control of her actions, she could choose to fight or complain. Her plan was for self-preservation until she was free. This had been a good old-fashioned thunderstorm—loud and boisterous but no real damage.
Days passed and turned into weeks. It was the end of August and Claire’s schedule remained constant. The only variable was Tony’s work location. Before he left for Europe, he offered Eric for her use. Since his return he hadn’t mentioned her leaving the property. She hadn’t been off the estate since New York and that was a month ago. Truthfully, she didn’t miss the cities—she missed the lake. She kept praying for him to be called away for a few days; it didn’t happen.
Something else that hadn’t happened since Tony’s return was his threat of video screening. Other than the first night back, trying to bait her, he hadn’t mentioned the videos. It was as if they no longer existed. Claire knew that wasn’t true, but the illusion helped her compartmentalize.
Sundays usually involved staying at home, in his office, her suite, at the pool, anywhere that allowed for relaxation. Tony often needed to read or talk to Brent Simmons about something, but he slated Sundays for his time to do as he pleased. It was Sunday, August 29 when Claire decided to ask Tony for a favor.
He told her once that if she wanted something, she needed to ask. They were lounging at the pool, enjoying the last few days of the season when she asked, “Tony, I have a favor to ask of you.”
He lay on a lounge chair, his dark hair soft and wavy after drying in the sun, relaxing following a recent encounter in the pool. His swim trunks revealed his firm, defined, tanned body. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses and he didn’t move; however, he replied, “Go ahead.”
“I’d like to call my sister.”
Slowly, he sat, removed his sunglasses, and shot his piercing eyes her direction. “I believe this has been discussed, and you know my decision. I’ve determined it’s better if you don’t have contact with your family.”
Although it was meant as a final statement, she persisted. “I remember you saying that; however, a lot of time has passed. I won’t say anything you don’t want me to say”—she could sense Tony was becoming more irritated, but she bravely added more information—“her birthday is August 31.”
He took a breath, exhaled, and lay back down. Claire waited, he didn’t answer. Putting her head back on the chair, she contemplated how she should revisit the subject without being disrespectful of his answer—or lack thereof.
*
Tony closed his eyes against the sunlight. He thought about the framed pictures hidden in the closet in his suite—the ones from Claire’s Atlanta apartment. He’d wondered how long it would take for her to ask to contact her family. It took five months. No doubt, if the means had been available she’d have contacted them sooner.
If her family consisted of poor farmers from Indiana, the call wouldn’t be much of a risk. Actually, Tony wasn’t concerned about her sister. It was her brother-in-law, John Vandersol, an accomplished attorney that was a potential threat. From humble beginnings, utilizing his intelligence and intuition, he had become an associate at a top-notch law firm in Albany, New York. This was a firm that rarely hired outside of Ivy League schools. The man was even under early consideration for partnership. Tony didn’t feel comfortable with Claire having contact with him.
As far as Tony was concerned, the past five months had taken favorable, unexpected turns. Claire’s behavior was a pleasant surprise, much better than he’d anticipated while planning her acquisition. Truthfully, while wanting to keep her and use her for himself, he hadn’t been sure it would work. Plan B had always been and supposedly still was still an option, but now that she’d been seen with him in public, it would be difficult to remain completely detached. He didn’t want the addition of Emily, and especially John Vandersol, to upset his perfect equation.
While Tony contemplated, a rush of fury swept his consciousness. He realized she was questioning—no, arguing—his decision. Not only was she arguing, but he was considering her request. It was the damned pictures, in the stupid frames. A small part of him cared that he’d taken all that away from her. That hadn’t bothered him five months ago. It had actually been quite the coup, but now…hell, it was just one call. Maybe if he could control the content. Reassuring himself—of course he could control the content—he controlled her. He could control a telephone call. Tony decided first he would see how badly she wanted to make this call. He would stand back and watch, see how far Claire would push, observing her resolve in the face of much adversity, as she attempted to manipulate him. Yeah, no lie, that courage turned him on. Finally, he said, “I’ll think about it.”
He didn’t bring up the subject again on Sunday. Monday came and went, they spent time together but he didn’t bring up her request. Tuesday was Emily’s birthday. He could sense Claire’s impatience. Her self-control since Sunday was impressive. He wondered if she would just abandon the idea if he didn’t bring it up.
*
Claire wasn’t sure if Tony thought that by avoiding the subject she would forget her own sister’s birthday—she didn’t. She’d been good and hadn’t pushed. She rationalized—he’s busy—maybe he forgot. She decided to wait through dinner, if he didn’t mention it, she’d bring it up.
They ate on the back patio with a slight breeze blowing her hair. The evenings were becoming increasingly cool and Claire regretted not bringing a sweater or light jacket to dinner. When they’d finished eating, Tony began to stand. Claire bit her lip and spoke, “Tony, today is Emily’s birthday.” She’d created an illusion of equality in her mind and didn’t want to beg.
He resumed sitting and leaned into Claire, his voice sounded threatening—slow and deliberate. “So you’ve decided this subject is worth risking reprimand? I believe my last answer was I would think about it.”
Claire swallowed with her head high and looked directly into his dark eyes. “Yes, I feel talking to Emily on her birthday is worth the punishment you believe I deserve for pursuing the subject.” Tony didn’t speak but intently maintained their gaze. She waited for his response. Finally, she spoke again, “Tony, may I please call my sister for her birthday?”
“I have her telephone number in my office. You may call her from there.” Claire’s heart jumped and her eyes sparkled. She started to stand but he indicated for her to remain seated. “First, I will define the rules of this call”—she nodded and listened—“you will speak to her on a speaker phone, with me present. Before you call, we will discuss the limitations of your discussion.” She hated his tone, the one he used when he felt the need to show his authority, but his words were saying she could talk to Emily. The rest didn’t matter.
Claire replied, “I understand. Thank you, Tony.”
Walking down the marble corridor toward Tony’s office Claire thought about her sister. They hadn’t spoken in over five months. She fought the incredible urge to run the length of the corridor and grab his telephone. Once in his office, Tony instructed her to sit near his desk. She could see the phone—the anticipation was agony. He sat back in his leather chair and proclaimed, “Do not tell Emily or John that you have been or are living in my home. You may mention that you live and work in Iowa, near the Quad Cities, if you are pressed. I recommend you keep the conversation focused on Emily and avoid discussing yourself. If she brings it up you may admit to accompanying me to various events. Let me emphasize, any subject of you or me is not to be initiated by you. If the subject of getting together comes up—be evasive. The shorter the conversation is the better the chance you won’t make a mistake”—to emphasize her compliance, he added—“disobeying these rules is not an option—the consequence will not be pleasant. Do you have any questions? Do you understand my rules? Are you ready to call?”
“I don’t have any questions. Tony, I promise I understand the rules, and oh, yes, I’m ready!”
He removed a piece of paper from the top drawer of his desk and dialed the phone. Then, as if just occurring to him, he added, “There’s a block on this line. My number will not appear on their caller ID.” He hit the speaker button. Claire’s heart leapt as she heard Emily’s line ring.
It rang and rang until John’s voice came over the speaker, but it wasn’t really him. It was their voicemail. Her heart sank. Looking to Tony she asked, “May I leave a message?” He nodded as John’s voice continued. “May I tell her I’ll try to reach her again?”
The recording beeped. Finally, Tony nodded.
Keeping her tone as light as possible, considering the disappointment of reaching their voicemail, Claire said, “Hi Emily and John, it’s Claire. I wanted to call and wish Emily a happy birthday. I’m sorry I missed you. I hope you’re having a great day. Things are very busy, but I’ll try to reach you again, happy birthday!—”
Tony hit disconnect. Claire didn’t want to stop talking. She lowered her head and felt the tears. Resolved to accept the outcome, she looked up into Tony’s gaze. “Thank you for allowing me to make that call. Do you need me right now or may I go to my room?”
“You may leave.”
Dejectedly, she rose.
Tony continued, “I’ll be up to join you later. I have some work to complete first.” Claire verbally acknowledged his plans and continued to walk toward the grand double doors. As she reached for the handle, he continued, his initial authoritative tone mellowed, “Claire, New York is an hour later than Iowa. Perhaps they went out to dinner and a movie. You can try again later.”
She didn’t turn back around. She didn’t want him to see the tears cascading down her cheeks. Though fighting sobs, she feigned resolve and articulated, “Thank you.”
As she stepped into the cool corridor and closed the door to his office, Claire melted onto the marble floor. The staggering disappointment momentarily debilitated her. Eventually, her resolve grew—she regained composure—and obediently walked to her suite. Truthfully, she appreciated his offer.
About nine in Iowa, they went back to his office to try again. To expedite the process, Claire looked to Tony and proclaimed she remembered the rules and wouldn’t fail. Through the speaker, the phone began to ring. It only rang once when the voice of a woman on the other end answered, “Claire, is that you?”
Claire’s heart soared. “Yes, Emily, it’s me. Happy birthday, sis!”
Emily’s voice hadn’t changed. Claire heard the excitement of their reunion coming through the speaker. “Thank you. Hearing from you is the best birthday gift ever. Where are you? Are you all right? Why haven’t you called us?”
Claire looked from the phone to Tony and then back to the phone. Tony’s eyes spoke volumes. “Hey, slow down. I have a new job that keeps me very busy, but I couldn’t miss talking to you on your special day. How are you doing? How is John? How is his law firm?” She’d done it. She succeeded in getting Emily to talk about them.
Emily said she was fine. School had recently started, and she thought this was going to be a good class. John was fine, just very busy. The law firm was good, he was an associate now and the more hours he billed the better chance he had of making partner. Claire could have spoken with her for hours. They had so much catching up to do. Instead, Claire apologized and told her she needed to run. She loved her and please give John her love. Emily said, “I would, honey, but John is right here, and he’d love to talk with you!”
Claire looked at Tony. His eyes darkened as his head slowly shook.
Claire replied, “I’d really like to, but I really need to run. Have a great birthday. Bye.” Again, Tony pressed disconnect.
Claire stared at the telephone for the longest time. This was one of those junctures. She could be sad the conversation was short or she could choose to be happy there had been a conversation. She decided to pick B.
Standing to leave Tony’s office, she looked up to see him leaning back in his chair. His eyes devoured her as he unbuckled his belt. With sickening comprehension Claire understood, in his mind he’d shown a kindness, now he expected gratitude—quid pro quo.
If life were predictable it would cease to be life and be without flavor.
—Eleanor Roosevelt