Back in her suite, Claire checked her phone. Of course, she had multiple text messages from her sister. The main request was for a call. Claire didn’t want to call. She would willingly text, but she didn’t want to hear Emily’s voice or lectures. However, Claire worried, if she only sent a text, Emily would suspect Tony’s manipulation.
Dreading the conversation, Claire hit call. Emily answered on the first ring. “Claire, are you all right?” Claire assured her sister she was fine. She still had her ticket to return to California on Sunday and those plans haven’t changed. Claire promised to be careful and politely hung-up before Emily’s words became too annoying.
After sending text messages to Amber and Harry, Claire climbed into the beautiful four poster bed, settled into the soft sheets, and slipped away. The memories of her lake and their afternoon floated through her subconscious. Being alone, she didn’t try to subdue the smile that continually crept onto her face.
Her dream didn’t make sense... when she drifted to sleep she was in the copper colored suite, yet as she looked around the walls were once again a rich beige and heavy golden draperies covered the windows. Claire reached for her cellphone but it was missing. Easing herself from the warm covers she searched for her iPad. It was no longer on the table. She saw the television, but instinctively knew the channels were limited. Her breathing quickened as she paced the confines of the luxurious room. No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t fill her lungs with adequate oxygen. The beautiful walls were closing in around her. She needed air, fresh air. Quickly she moved to the heavy golden drapes and exposed the tall French doors of her balcony. When the lever refused to budge, her heart rate quickened. Why wouldn’t the doors open? The condensation on the small panes indicated cold on the other side. She peered through the small windows and registered the scene outside. The green leaves and vibrant colors were gone. In their place she saw skeletons of bare trees and visions of black and white. Inches of snow sat undisturbed on the rail of the balcony.
Claire’s knees became weak. If it were winter, where was her baby? Claire’s hand moved to her midsection finding her flat stomach. She wasn’t visibly pregnant, so their child must be born. Claire scanned the suite for a crib, nothing. She ran to the hallway door. The lever wouldn’t move. No! She was locked in! Where was her baby? Tears of panic rushed from her eyes as she beat upon the door. Panic filled her voice as she screamed at the top of her lungs. This was no longer her nightmare; it was her child’s too.
“Ms. Claire, Ms. Claire, you are having a dream.” Catherine’s words quieted the screams which summoned Catherine to Claire’s suite. She’d heard Claire’s panicked screams from down the hall.
Claire opened her eyes to Catherine’s concerned gaze. “Oh, Catherine – I was dreaming. It wasn’t real, was it?”
“Yes, you were dreaming. Thankfully, your door wasn’t locked. I am here for you. Everything is all right. Whatever it was, it was just a dream.”
Claire allowed Catherine to embrace her before lying back upon the soft pillow. Trembling slightly she scanned the suite. The copper walls were back. Her stomach twisted as tears escaped her eyes. “Catherine, did you ever want to be a mother?”
The older woman straightened her back, “Why are you asking?”
Claire struggled to sit up. Her heartbeat beginning to calm, “I got the feeling yesterday when I told you that I’ve thought of you in that way, that it made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”
Catherine’s expression mellowed, “Don’t be sorry. I took it as a compliment.”
Claire smiled, “Good, that’s how it was intended.”
“Yes -- is the answer to your question. However, I’ve come to realize some people are not meant to be parents. There are better people to raise children.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Some people have made too many poor choices to subject a child to their views.”
Claire asked earnestly, “So you think a person’s past would influence their ability to parent?”
“Of course, how could it not? Some people do not deserve to influence a child. Take Mr. Rawlings for example. He is the way he is in part due to the environment in which he was raised.”
“What were his parents like?”
“You need to ask him that question. I believe he could have done much better.”
Claire pondered Catherine’s words and asked, “What about his grandparents?”