Текст книги "Consequences"
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
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Текущая страница: 26 (всего у книги 36 страниц)
VF: So you did not mind not being involved in the planning?
“If all his decisions are as amazing as our honeymoon, I do not mind at all.” He kissed her cheek.
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget
what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Anthony added, “I have had many years of living on my own, making my own decisions, and doing everything for my benefit. I have learned that people remember most how you make them feel. I try to work my business with that in mind. When I negotiate with someone, they will forget what I say or what I do, but they will not forget how I make them feel. Do they feel important to the deal? Do they feel central to the transaction? I wanted our honeymoon to be special because it would benefit me.” His smile looked mischievous to this reporter. “However, I wanted it to be special so that Claire would feel special and know how important she is to me.” He no doubt had her full attention during his statement, and this reporter would guess during their stay in paradise.
Mr. Rawlings seems to have the gift of making everyone feel special. Claire agreed he has made her feel special since they first met.
VF:VanityFair would like to thank you for taking the time to allow us into your home. Now is it true you have other homes besides this one?
Anthony answered, “Due to my multiple business sites and intensive travel schedule we do own a few apartments here and there. It makes traveling much easier.” (Insert text box of real estate holdings of Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Rawlings.)
VF: Mr. Rawlings, your answer about “we” owning brings VF to another more controversial subject. May I ask about the debate regarding the lack of a prenuptial agreement prior to your marriage?
“I would prefer you didn’t. However, the only way to stop the rumors is to address them. First let me say there was no debate. We did not consider a prenuptial agreement, much less debate one.” Taking his wife’s hand in his, he continued, “I am elated to have the world get to know my wife. Mrs. Claire Rawlings is an amazing woman. She did not know who I was when we met. She has told me exactly what she thinks of me or of my actions and not always in a complimentary manner. She did not anticipate a marriage proposal on that cold,” he smiled at Claire, “night in Central Park. I trust her implicitly. I have worked my entire life to build a business empire. It means nothing without someone with whom to share. I did not feel it was fair to ask her to sign something that would restrict her partnership with me in any way. She is my wife and I am her husband. It may not be PC to say this today, but we believe in forever, in trust, and in love. A piece of paper is not going to matter when we are old and gray. We decided together that our commitment to one another is stronger than any legal agreement.” Mrs. Rawlings squeezed his hand. “Like it is said in a movie, she completes me.”
VF: Thank you again for the brief glimpse into your life. Below is a quote that was recited during your wedding ceremony. To our readers, it was meant as a dual statement to both of them, from each of them.
I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am
when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have
made of yourself, but for what you are making of me.
I love you for the part of me that you bring out.
–Roy Croft
(Photo collage at the end includes photos of home: grand hall, sitting room, library, office, dining room, recreation room, exercise room, theater room, and indoor pool. Also included are wedding photos: of ceremony, reception, with cake, talking with guests, and dancing. There are a few of Fiji, the private island where the couple stayed, the beach, infinity pool, lounging decks, and outdoor shower.)
Claire read the copy and imagined the photos that would be inserted. It truly appeared perfect.
Three days later, on the eighteenth of March, Tony surprised Claire with a long weekend getaway to Lake Tahoe. The beautiful snowy mountains filled with skiing, roaring fires, and hot coffee made for a great escape. The ski resort, literally a mile above sea level, had crystal-clear air that permeated deep into their lungs. The mountains provided the most amazing skiing with over a hundred inches of base and freshly fallen powder. The tall majestic evergreens bowed to the weight of the snow that layered each branch. Their small private chalet held amazing views, warm fires, and no cook. For the first time in a year, despite limited supplies Claire managed to keep them from starving. With the intensity of their exercise, both indoors and out, she was pleased he liked her cooking. A while ago she’d heard some advice. Eating is important to keep up their strength.
Warm, naked, and covered with a soft blanket, she rested her head against his chest. Claire contemplated the significance of this weekend as they rested in the afterglow of their love and the glow of fireplace. Three hundred and sixty-six days ago she’d been a different person in a different life. It wasn’t that her life now was bad. It was just that the transition had been unplanned, unwanted, and well, brutal. She needed to hear her husband’s answer to the question that lingered in her mind. “Tony, why are we here this weekend?”
They both watched the crackling blaze, his strong arms encircled her petite body, and he took a deep breath and replied, “I didn’t want you home in your suite this weekend. I wanted you outside in fresh air.” He felt her chest lift then drop and heard the soft sniffles. Damn, the crying was what he’d been trying to avoid. Nuzzling his face in her hair, he kissed her head. “If it hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t be here now. There is a reason for everything.”
He tenderly turned her to face him and then rolled her over onto her back. Her blonde hair fanned out onto the rug like a halo. He looked down at her angelic face. Even with the moisture, her eyes were stunning. The tears only made the green more intense in the firelight. Tony couldn’t help himself, she was beautiful and he wanted her. His bare chest pushed against her supple breasts. He caressed her pink cheeks and her soft shoulders as he looked into her eyes. “I’m not sorry that we are together, but I am so sorry when I think about . . . remember the things I—”
Claire stopped him. Shaking her head no, she put her hand to his mouth. He stopped talking and kissed her hand, gently sucking the tips of her fingers. “Please, Tony. Don’t. I don’t want to remember or think about that.” Her voice sounded amazingly steady despite the tears that now streamed from the corners of her eyes. “I want to think about now.”
“But you should know—”
“All I know is that I love you today. I hated you then. It is too much of a contrast for my mind to accept. I want to concentrate on today.”
“I love you today too. Tell me what I can do to help. Claire, anything you want, it is yours.”
He couldn’t take away her memories. That was what she wanted more than anything. “I want you. I want you to love me and fill me with so many good memories that I don’t have room for the others.” She kissed her husband. “Tony, fill me completely.”
Claire wasn’t thinking. Her body was in control; more accurately, out of control, moving in sync with desire. She didn’t think, because she feared if she did it would be about the past and not the present. Instead, she surrendered her body and her mind to her husband. There was a time she’d tried to keep her mind, but no longer. He possessed them both.
His lips found her soft skin and watched as her eyes responded. He wanted to see the spark, to have it be there. Briefly he thought about the saying the end justifies the means. If that were true, then he wasn’t sorry. In his arms, beneath his body, responding to his touch, was the woman he’d watched for so long. He suckled her hard nipples, and she moaned deeply, wanting—no, needing him. At that moment and time, sorry was not at all what he was feeling.
Nothing improves memory more than trying to forget. —Unknown author
Chapter 38
It was happening again. The satin sheets dripped with sweat as Claire gasped for breath. Trembling, she concentrated on inhaling and exhaling, convincing herself that she could breathe. This was only a dream or a nightmare. Once over, she never remembered the scenes, just the terrible feeling of helplessness. It always ended when she heard the beep and woke. It was the same damn beep she’d heard when she first arrived. It meant her suite was locked. When the dreams first started, she could roll over, find her sleeping husband, curl up next to him, and fall back to sleep. Now regulating her breathing, she knew that wasn’t possible. Like so many times before, she needed to get out of bed and complete her new routine.
The steady breathing from a few feet away told Claire that Tony was sleeping peacefully. Quietly, she lifted the covers and eased out of bed. Her hands shook as she tied her robe and tiptoed to the hallway door. “This is dumb,” she whispered as her feet crossed the lush carpet. However, it was now her reality. She knew sleep wouldn’t be possible without completing this new drill. Gripping the metal lever, she pulled, and the door easily opened. She closed it and went to the balcony. Moving the draperies aside, the French door opened without hesitation. The rush of fresh air filled the room and her lungs. She walked through the opening, gently closing the door behind her.
Her perspiration-drenched body relished the cool night breeze. Standing at the rail, she inhaled the spring air and lifted her hair to dry the perspiration from her neck. It wasn’t that she wanted to remember the feelings of a year ago. Truly she didn’t. When she stepped onto a patio, terrace, or into the backyard and memories would start to surface, she could stop them. It was at night while she slept that the compartmentalization of her interment would come rushing back. Then in the minutes or hours that followed, she would attempt to calm her lingering fear. It was the one she tried to keep away, the terror that at any moment, without warning, history could repeat itself. The sickening realization that she would be completely helpless to stop it was what robbed her of sleep.
The cool cement under her feet brought her back to present. She shivered, pulled her cashmere robe tighter, and wished that she’d grabbed slippers. But the trembling wasn’t caused by the cold. She knew it was her dream. Looking up she noticed the clear black velvet sky peppered with stars. Absentmindedly, she thought, That’s why the temperature dropped.
Sighing, she fell into a chair. This knowledge would never matter again. Her job was her name, Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, meteorology was gone—forever. She’d left the suite in such a panic she hadn’t looked at the clock. It really didn’t matter, sleep was out of reach. Pulling her legs into her chest and covering them with her soft robe she began her mental therapy session. Her still rapid heart rate told her that tonight it would last hours instead of minutes.
Self-therapy consisted of a mental list of reasons that her nightmares were ridiculous and she had no basis for her fears. Claire believed that if she could convince her conscious self, her subconscious self would be forced to agree. When she allowed her mind to go back to the spring of a year ago she could rationalize that now her life was significantly dissimilar. She now had more liberties than she’d experienced since her arrival.
Tony stayed true to his word about her e-mails. He even decided that she needed her own address, [email protected]. This made printing easier. He was also correct about the numerous requests for interviews, money, and endorsements she received daily from people she’d never met. Having Patricia respond to those requests was easy. She also received personal e-mails. And now she had a voice in the responses. Overall, when asked Tony agreed to requests regarding Courtney, Sue, Bev, or MaryAnn. If he had other plans for the day in question, this occurred from time to time, his plans trumped. But the act of requesting was the crucial portion of her negotiations. If she wanted to reply to someone or to go somewhere, as he had said many months ago, she simply needed to ask. She’d become accustomed to this component. It was a daily reminder of Tony’s authority.
Regarding that authority, it did not assert itself as it had a year ago. She reasoned that perhaps it was because her behavior didn’t warrant that type of implementation. No matter the cause, life was undeniably better.
Watching the moonlight on the budding trees, Claire reminded herself of the outings that she’d recently enjoyed. They’d included lunches in Iowa City, Red Cross meetings in Davenport, and shopping in Chicago. A few weeks ago MaryAnn suggested a catch-up day in New York as she and Eli were there for business. Tony reviewed all of the e-mails before Claire and she didn’t expect permission to spend the day in New York, but she asked. Surprisingly he acquiesced. Smiling and feeling her pulse slow, she remembered him offering a company jet and flying off to a beautiful April day in NYC. All of the women had a marvelous time and she made it home before seven. He was home first, but she was home for dinner. He wasn’t unhappy.
Calming, she listened to the voice in her head and the gentle breeze that blew her hair, remembering a recent unexpected freedom. Secretly coveting the chestnut hair that kept trying to return, she informed Tony that she needed an appointment to maintain her blonde. He said they had no overnight plans in the near future, so she should just go. If he had the private plane she could take one of the company jets, just plan to be home before dinner. Shocked, she remembered questioning, “Are you saying I can go by myself?”
“My dear Claire, is there any reason you should not?”
She assured him there was not. He or Patricia arranged the appointment, and Claire went to the airport and boarded a company jet by herself. She landed in Chicago, took a waiting cab to the Trump Tower, where she spent the rest of the morning being pampered. Then she ate lunch and shopped for a few hours and came home. Blushing in the cool night air she thought about being back in her suite before six and how she did her best to show her husband the meaning of a statement she’d made months earlier: coming home to a wife who wants to be home is better than coming home to a wife that has to be home. He caught on pretty quick, the first indication was the spark in her emerald eyes and the next clue involved a black satin robe and a warm waiting bath. Truth be told, she couldn’t remember eating dinner at all that night.
Claire’s eyelids reminded her that she should be sleeping. Slipping back into her suite and under the warm blankets, she thought about the man lying next to her. He continued to be a paradox. The man Claire met when she first arrived hadn’t shown his personality since her accident. She knew he was still here, that knowledge alone was motivation to obey his rules. She’d been told too many times that his promise to keep that personality away was contingent on her ability to behave appropriately. The stress of that reality and unpredictability loomed omnipresent.
The man who worked to court her, to convince her that she was important, desirable, and loved still existed in a muted form. He was still attentive, present, and always sexual, but he was busy with work and often preoccupied. That was understandable. He was a successful man with many fires to tend.
It was his need for complete supremacy over every aspect of her life that felt stifling and unbearable. Claire theorized that this was the cause of the suffocation that usually accompanied her nightmares. He had companies, peoples’ jobs and livelihoods on his list of responsibilities. The fact that he controlled her comings, goings, e-mails, hair, and often attire seemed ridiculous.
Attempting to stop the rise in blood pressure, she reminded herself that no matter what, she loved him. He could infuriate her one moment, making her feel less than human. And the next, he could make her feel like the world spun only because she mattered to him. It was just that those two contradictory emotions could come too close together and in any order. As Claire reminisced she recognized that similar to a year ago, her mood, liberties, and sense of self-worth seemed to have a common denominator, Anthony Rawlings.
As that realization struck, he rolled toward her, wrapped her in his arms; and though still sleeping, murmured, “My love, you’re so cold. Come closer.” She melted against his warm chest. At this moment in time, he made her feel safe and loved. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
As the spring blossomed into summer, their biggest source of dissension continued to be her family. Though she loved to hear from Emily, seeing her name on an e-mail made her stomach turn. It almost always came accompanied by dark penetrating eyes. She would sometimes choose to have Patricia reply instead of herself. There were days and circumstances when the communication wasn’t worth the conflict. It depended on Emily’s words, some motivated Claire’s determination more than others. Her calls with Emily were always monitored. It was a reality she didn’t dispute. If she did, it would result in loss of all communication. He didn’t need to spell that out for her. She knew it as well as she knew that her freedoms lay vulnerable to his whims.
Since the call following the interview, Claire spoke with Emily about every three to four weeks. She heard from Emily at least once a week via e-mail. After Claire had her own e-mail address, Emily’s notes were more informative. Claire would hand-write her response. It was then approved and sent by Patricia. If Emily questioned Claire’s ability to do anything, she would profess her freedoms as Tony evaluated every word.
That same Tony was the one that surprised Claire with the long weekend at Lake Tahoe. And over Memorial Day weekend he arranged for a getaway to San Francisco. While there they met Eli and MaryAnn for dinner at an exclusive nightclub with a glorious view of the bay and bridge. The next day, after a romantic drive down Highway One in a leased convertible, they strolled hand in hand on the beach at Big Sur. The force and spray of the waves pounding the huge rocks along the ocean shore astonished Claire. It wasn’t like the Gulf of Mexico or even the tranquil waters of Fiji. Instead, it reminded her of the beach scenes in movies. During these excursions he made her feel like a star. Their final day in San Francisco they went sightseeing, no trip to Alcatraz was planned or even discussed.
He also had a two-week business trip to Europe planned for the end of July. This time he wanted her with him. Uncharacteristically he asked her to help make the sightseeing plans. They would visit Italy, Switzerland, and France. He had meetings but promised free time for his wife. Claire spent hours in their library looking at books on destinations, museums, and points of interest. The Internet would have been easier but she found incredible pictures and information in the resource books.
The work with the Red Cross slowed. Their calendar was planned and their goal set. It was now a matter of implementation. Courtney had other members on her committee. They divided the events: Claire was chairman of a silent auction scheduled for October. She drafted letters requesting donations, and Patricia sent them out to prominent associates of Mr. Rawlings. The letters requested donations from Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. Tony had already brought many positive responses home. Claire secured a ballroom in Bettendorf, where the auction would be held simultaneously with a wine-tasting event. She even arranged for the wine and catering to be donated, believing that a little wine might help increase bids. Courtney seemed genuinely pleased and appreciative of Claire’s help.
The summer heat created the climate Claire enjoyed the most. She contentedly spent many of her days at home by the pool or at her lake. When summer began Tony hesitated to approve her journeys to the lake. He’d been there. He knew how far it was from the house. What if a real accident occurred? At first, she relented to his decision but then she decided it was worth the struggle. Her lake had been her refuge. Determinedly, one Sunday in early June, she pursued the liberty to hike. Tony finally acquiesced, saying he wanted to be mad but it was the memory of her excitement during their February visit that made him relent.
She asked him to join her. He had other plans for their day, but agreed. They brought a blanket, a picnic packed by Catherine, and water. When they reached the shore Tony seemed to understand why she loved the site. It was nothing like it had been in February. The colors of the summer starkly contrasted the whiteness of their last visit. Though not big, the lake sparkled and glittered with hues of blue created by the reflection of the sapphire sky. The trees surrounding the lake were lush, full, and green.
The ones in the woods had been also, creating a maze that Tony hoped Claire could truly navigate. He listened to the sounds of the lake shore. In forty-six years he’d never stopped to listen to waves lap the earth. The consistent beat, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, combined with the gentle breeze of the trees soothed him in a way he couldn’t describe. He laid out the blanket on the shore under the shade of a tree and invited Claire to join him. She unpacked their lunch and they sat in silence.
At first, Claire worried, believing he might be upset by her impudence. Then she stopped worrying and looked at him, really looked at his face, he was peaceful. She thought about who she saw: Anthony Rawlings, multibillionaire tycoon and entrepreneur, a man in complete control of everyone and everything. Claire hoped that perhaps she was witnessing this lofty man seeing himself as part of a grand picture. Maybe for the first time he wasn’t seeing himself as the center. Not wanting to break the spell, she let him sit undisturbed.
Sometime later, Claire had lost track of time, Tony finally spoke. “This is beautiful. This is here on our property and I have never seen it, not like this.” The sun sparkled and shone as prisms of light and color danced off the water. Having taken the sandwiches out of the basket, Claire broke off a piece of bread and threw it into the water. Tony laughed as minnows swam to devour their newfound feast. She smiled at her husband. Her smile radiated into her eyes, she could feel it. His chocolate eyes looked from the water to her. He leaned toward her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For showing me what I have been missing. I have been so goal oriented, so driven, I have missed so much.” She scooted closer and offered him his sandwich. “I’m really not hungry yet, are you?” His hands were exploring her collar bone, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms.
“I think I can wait.”
The hours of daylight had almost reached their peak. The summer solstice was near. Between exploring the lake, shore, wildlife, and one another, they found themselves still on the shore as the sun began to set. It was all right. Claire knew that this time there would be no punishment or accident when she arrived home. This time she was safe. They sat and watched the crimson ball as it bled a cherry glow across the sky, slowly fading behind the line of shadowed trees at the far end of the lake.
