Текст книги "Consequences"
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
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Текущая страница: 30 (всего у книги 36 страниц)
Once alone, Tony assumed his alternate persona. “Tomorrow evening we will be in an overtly public arena. It wasn’t long ago that a glitch occurred in a setting such as this.” She didn’t want to hear him.
“Tony, please don’t start this again.” The flight, wine, and aching head contributed to Claire’s irritability. Her insolent retort stunned him momentarily. Recovery didn’t take long. As she carried clothes to the dresser, he seized her arm and turned her to face him.
“Claire, I do not appreciate your flippant attitude. There will be many more journalists present than you have ever been exposed to at one time.”
His grip hurt. She looked directly into his eyes and stood tall as he glowered over her. “I assure you my attitude is not flippant. It is just that you are increasingly repetitive. I know the speech and I know—” She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence. It was the first strike since her accident. She remained standing but temporarily dazed by disbelief more than pain.
He spoke again as if he hadn’t just shattered his promise and her security. Her house of glass now lay in a pile of shards. “You have a responsibility and I expect you to behave appropriately.” He let go of her arm, walked to the suitcase, and pulled out Claire’s hiking boots. “By the way, would you like to know why these are packed?”
Her mind wheeled as he changed subjects. She was having difficulty keeping up. Refusing to cry, she exhaled and took the bait. “Why do I have my hiking boots?”
“As a surprise for your birthday, I made reservations for Sunday and Monday night in the presidential suite of a very exclusive hotel inside Yosemite. I thought you would enjoy the Sierra Nevada Mountains and National Park. After last year, I didn’t want to miss celebrating your birthday.” His tone became stern. “However, instead of surprising you like I hoped, our romantic birthday getaway now rests in your hands.”
Claire tried to follow his words, her hands? What did he mean?
“If your memory isn’t failing, if you can remember my concerns and rules, and if you can obey the few requests I have made, then we will be able to keep the plans for your birthday. If, however, you are unable to handle your responsibilities I will have no choice but to cancel the reservations and we will concentrate on ways to help facilitate your memory for the future.” He stared at his wife as she sank to the edge of the bed. “What is your choice? You want to be a partner. Tell me what you want to do, go to Yosemite or go home and review appropriate behavior?” This was another of those offers you can’t refuse type questions.
God she hated the dance. A blow to the cheek one minute and discussing a romantic getaway the next. It was the one step forward, two steps back waltz, she wanted to scream. Sitting on the side of the bed, she allowed herself tears and swallowed. Her voice revealed her distress, yet she tried to sound composed. “I’ve never been to Yosemite. I’ve heard it is beautiful. That sounds like a wonderful birthday.”
Unmoved by her tears he stood waiting for a response to his question. Seeing her husband’s stare, feeling a too-familiar twinge of panic, Claire realized she hadn’t answered his question. “I’d like to go to Yosemite. I’ll do as you say.”
He moved closer, took her hands, and helped her stand. Their chests touched as she looked up at his still too-dark eyes. She didn’t look away. “Claire, I do not want to break my promise, but at the risk of sounding repetitive, public failure is not an option.”
“I understand. I’m sorry for making you break your promise. I will do better.”
That night while lying in bed next to his sleeping wife, Tony remembered a scene from his childhood. It was one of many that shaped so many of his decisions.
His grandfather’s booming voice, “Boy, you will not be joining us at dinner this evening.” Surprised. he noticed the absence of his place setting. Tony asked why. His grandfather didn’t speak but removed a letter from the breast pocket of his jacket. Tony retrieved the letter and unfolded the page. It was his grades from the last semester of classes. He’d taken seventeen credit hours, a very full load for a freshman. There were five A’s and one B+, in Calculus. That seemed good to him. He remembered still not comprehending his grandfather’s tone. “You plan to succeed in this world, boy?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Then don’t let this happen again, failure has consequences. Perhaps some time alone eating in your suite will help you remember that perfection is the minimum requirement for success.” His grandfather then turned his eyes away and took a drink of his wine.
“Nathaniel, perhaps he did his—” His grandfather’s dark eyes stopped his grandmother’s plea. She looked down at her plate. The subject was closed. Tony looked at his parents, they too were looking down.
He remembered walking out of that dining room vowing to make him proud, it wasn’t easy. But today he believed that he had seized the opportunities and created others. If his grandfather were alive, which he should be, Tony believed he would be proud.
The following morning, Tony left the apartment early to golf with friends. During her morning shower Claire noticed tenderness on her right arm. While drying she noticed a large purple hand print. Claire’s concern wasn’t that she endured her husband’s wrath, it was that the physical evidence was visible. She felt relieved to find that Catherine packed blouses with sleeves. She rationalized that if the purple bruise was seen it would break multiple rules: appearances and private information. Most importantly, Tony wouldn’t be happy. Thinking ahead, Claire checked her party dress, sleeveless.
Once the ladies were all together, Claire summoned her brightest smile and asked, “So is anyone up for a little shopping on Rodeo Drive? I think a new dress for the party is in order!” It didn’t take much convincing to entice the others to join her on three blocks of the most famous and expensive shopping in America.
Apparently, her mask wasn’t without cracks. Courtney tried on multiple occasions to isolate Claire and ask her what was happening, she said she felt something amiss. Claire smiled brightly and looked her friend in the eye. “It’s just newlywed stuff. We’re both new at this marriage thing. We’re working on it.” Sensing Courtney’s disbelief Claire continued, “Really, everything is fine.”
Tony mentioned that Claire’s shopping talents had improved, he was right. She found two dresses that her friends adored, one from Armani and the other Gucci from Saks. Of course, each needed shoes and a bag. She reasoned, two would allow Tony to make the final decision. Claire laid the dresses on the bed, with their shoes and handbags, and enthusiastically asked Tony which one he wanted her to wear. He liked that she shopped with her friends. The reason was never questioned. However, a decision would be difficult without a fashion show. Claire obliged. Tony chose the Gucci deep-blue long-sleeved classic wrap dress. He particularly liked the ease at which it unwrapped.
The six of them arrived at the party to a crowd of celebrities and press. Claire stayed by her husband’s side as they chatted with people she’d only seen on screen. She was surprised how normal they seemed. Perhaps a few were boorish or narcissistic, but as a whole they were unpretentious and humble and treated Tony with respect. Claire didn’t realize until listening to his conversations that he also capitalized in forms of entertainment: television stations, news stations, and movie studios. This connection was the impetus for his friendship with Eli. She’d thought they made unlikely friends. Now it made sense.
Claire hadn’t anticipated the grandeur of Eli and MaryAnn’s home. Bev’s design house had been instrumental in the decor. Every inch screamed California: open spaces, stunning views, clean lines, and affluence. Being built into a cliff with a spectacular ocean view, Claire wondered if they ever worried about earthquakes. She decided not to ask.
Aside from a few excursions with Courtney or MaryAnn, who was determined to introduce her to the Hollywood “A” crowd, Claire stayed dutifully at Tony’s elbow. He amiably included her in his conversations and introduced her to everyone. Anthony Rawlings and his bride, how cute they were, still honeymooners and inseparable, it was the talk of the party.
Following a Sunday brunch with their friends, Tony and Claire flew to Fresno. He arranged for a rental car. She wondered how many people rented cars valued at over $100,000. He said it wasn’t quite the Maserati Gran Turismo, but he liked driving the Corvette ZR1. The man that delivered it claimed it could go from 0 to 100 mph in seven seconds. Claire said, “Seriously, I believe him. We don’t need to test it.”
Yosemite was as beautiful as she’d heard. The famous stone mountains, waterfalls, lakes, and giant sequoias thrilled her. Her love of nature overpowered her recent unsettled sentiment toward her husband. With the stunning surroundings and his amorous temperament, she could forget his other persona. Or at least, she could compartmentalize it away and focus on this Tony.
On her birthday after climbing a steep trail to the base of Nevada Falls, Tony surprised Claire with a picnic lunch he’d hidden in a backpack, complete with blanket and bottle of wine. She wanted to hate him, his behavior and rules. At times she could. But other times he could be so romantic, tender, and affectionate.
After eating he handed her a burgundy velvet box. “Happy birthday, Claire.” Displaying his devilish grin, “I remembered, no black velvet boxes.”
She shook her head, thinking, Damn, he’s good. She accepted the box and opened it to discover a stunning pair of diamond stud earrings. She had a fleeting memory of earrings long ago. Her parents gave her diamond stud earrings for her high school graduation. They weren’t near as big or impressive. She wondered where they were. “Thank you, Tony, they’re amazing.” Her words were sincere and appreciative. The diamonds glistened in the rays of sunlight. They were truly the prettiest diamond earrings she’d ever seen. The only prettier diamond would be the one on her left hand.
Tony tenderly kissed her. “Happy birthday, love. I am glad we are here.” So was she.
On Tuesday afternoon Tony’s plane and Eric waited for them in Fresno. They arrived home late Tuesday night. The time difference worked better traveling west. Although the clock read after ten, Claire decided to press her luck. “Tony, I’ve had a wonderful birthday. Yosemite was beautiful and my earrings are stunning.” She wore the earrings, her journey necklace, and her new diamond watch from Europe. “I have one more birthday request.”
He hugged her close. “And that would be?”
The past few days had been good. She momentarily hesitated, but decided to proceed. “I would like to talk to my sister.” She looked up into his eyes, what color were they?
He sighed. “Let’s go to the office and call before I change my mind.”
She lifted herself on her toes and kissed him. “Thank you.” She was barely able to contain her excitement at the ability to call. The fact it was on speaker was expected. When Emily answered, she sounded sleepy. Claire apologized, told her she had just gotten home from out of town, and wanted to call. Emily quickly recovered. They chatted for nearly fifteen minutes before Claire realized her time had expired. Claire apologized for not calling sooner. Things were so busy with the auction. She told Emily about the Hollywood party and about Tony’s surprise birthday trip.
Emily thanked them for the donation to the school district. It’d been made anonymously, but she guessed it was from them. She also told Claire that she was worried about John. As the deadline approached he spent too much time at the office. He was currently there even though it was after eleven. He would probably be gone before Emily woke in the morning. Apparently, some auditor reviewed their information: their hours worked, hours billed, fees recovered, etc. John hadn’t disclosed everything to Emily, but she had a bad feeling. Something didn’t feel right. She promised to keep Claire informed if she got the chance to talk to her. Claire told her she would try. She said goodbye and Tony hit the disconnect button.
Hugging her husband she whispered, “It’s been a great birthday. I might not be as tired as I thought.” Both of their smiles were genuine.
Perspective is the most important thing to have in life. —Lauren Graham
Chapter 44
Claire straightened the three stacks of papers. She once again had a voice in her e-mails. Besides the “Patricia, respond” and “Ask Tony” piles, she sometimes made a “Correspondence” pile, her written answer to someone’s correspondence, or like today, an unsolicited outgoing e-mail. Sometimes they were sent as she wrote them; other times they made changes. It was all part of the deliberation and negotiation process. Today’s unsolicited e-mail was to Emily. It’d been written and rewritten about six times. Pacing around the suite, she wondered if she worded it well and, more importantly, if Tony would allow her to send it. John’s deadline was November 1; today was the fourth, and she still hadn’t heard anything. Claire was hopeful that the note could be sent; after all, Tony was the one that suggested she call on the first. She, of course, jumped at the chance; but no one answered. The last two nights she continued to try, still no answer. She was worried.
With her revelation that her subconscious and conscious were sharing the same concerns and her newfound time around the house, Claire practiced self-therapy sessions continually. Perhaps her concern about John was a defense mechanism, worrying about someone else for a change. Mostly she concerned herself with the man she’d married. The loving persona was back in many ways, complimentary, caring, and compassionate. Control was always an issue. He expected obedience and submission. As long as she complied, no consequences occurred. She spent endless hours spinning that into a positive paradigm. If it were truly positive, would spinning it take hours?
Having little else to do she dressed for dinner and read a book while awaiting Tony’s arrival. He was expected home at seven, but he surprised her by entering her suite about five thirty. She smiled but immediately recognized something amiss in his expression. Her heart raced, wondering, What have I done?
He didn’t speak, put some papers on the sofa, and knelt before her. The papers reminded her of Meredith’s interview, but he wasn’t enraged. Distressed would be a better assessment. “Tony, what is it?” He was as shaken as she’d ever seen him. He lowered his head to her lap. Lifting his face, she said, “Seriously, you’re scaring me. What’s the matter?”
“I came home as soon as I saw the news release. I knew you would want to know. You probably don’t believe me, but I am sorry.”
Claire looked into his eyes, sincerity. With trembling hands she reached for the papers. She had no idea what she was about to read, but it didn’t take a psychic to know it was bad.
Tragic Accident Claims the Life of Young Gaming Phenomenon Simon Johnson, 28, of Palo Alto, California died Wednesday, November 3, 2011, after a tragic accident.
Claire put the papers down and ran to the bathroom. She was suddenly ill. She hadn’t seen him in eight years, hadn’t consciously thought of him. Now he was gone.
Vomiting caused her to tremble. She turned to see Tony standing in the doorway, watching his wife. She sank to the floor not knowing what he would say or do regarding her response. He probably would think it inappropriate. She didn’t care, unexpectedly too weak to defend herself. The cool bathroom tile soothed her pounding head, she wept. Claire’s eyes closed as she surrendered to whatever was coming her way.
Tony knelt down, helped her up, carried her back to the suite, and gently laid her on the sofa. He then sat with her head on his lap. They didn’t speak for a long time. Claire cried. She cried for Simon, not a lost love. She was married to someone else. She cried for a life lost too young. The article said he was twenty-eight. She was twenty-eight. That was too young to die.
Finally, she managed, “How did he die?”
“The article said his plane went down in a remote area over the mountains.” The sobs resounded. “The authorities found the crash site, no survivors. It came across my news feed and I rushed home.”
Claire regained enough composure to sit. “He was a friend. I’m not upset because he and I were involved. He was just too young to die.”
Tenderly hugging her, he said, “I really understand. I overreacted before.” He gently moved her hair away from her face. “It said he was recently engaged.” That news restarted Claire’s tears. She wanted him to be married and loved by someone. When she calmed, he brought her tissues and she read the rest of the news release:
Officials found the crash site of Mr. Johnson’s personal aircraft in the upper elevations of the Sierra Nevada Mountain range. Mr. Johnson’s flight plan indicated that he was on his way home to Palo Alto after a meeting with investors in the Los Angeles area. Mr. Simon Johnson, self-made millionaire, is best known for his gaming creations. His creative start occurred with Shedis-tics, a Rawlings Industries subsidiary in Northern California. Mr. Johnson began his own gaming company, Si-Jo, in 2005. Mr. Johnson, originally from Indiana, was scheduled to wed Ms. Amber McCoy of Palo Alto, California on April 21, 2012. Information regarding services has yet to be released by family.
Claire put down the pages and laid her head on Tony’s chest. He put his arms around her and she drifted between sobbing, crying, and dreaming. When she awoke, her head pounded and her eyes ached swollen and tender. Tony was still there, holding her. She got up and went to the bathroom, washed her face, and came back out. “I think I am done. Thank you for being so understanding.”
He motioned for her to return to the sofa. She did. He put his arm around her. “Did you know he worked for one of my companies?”
“He told me that in Chicago, saying how strange fate can be. He said he wanted to thank you for the great start.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t have the chance.” Tony didn’t respond. What could he say?
The next day, Tony worked from home.
Claire rested on the sunporch, feeling her emotions teetering between sad and empty. Despite the recent drop in temperature, merciful sunshine made the porch comfortable. The trees were bare and the grass resumed its winter gray cast. She thought how the entire situation seemed unreal and wondered about Amber McCoy and Simon’s parents. She couldn’t imagine what they were going through.
Hoping the sunlight would improve her mood, she lay on the loveseat and contemplated life and death. Death seemed peaceful and predictable. She hadn’t thought that way for over a year. Tony found her staring into space and spoke sympathetically. “There is a private memorial for Simon on Sunday in Madison, Indiana.” Claire turned to her husband. Her makeup was done and her hair styled, but her eyelids were swollen and her eyes seemed distant.
“Okay.” She weighed his words. “We should send flowers.”
“No, we should attend.”
Claire sat straight. “No! We shouldn’t. Tony, I have not been to a funeral since my parents died. I can’t go to Simon’s.” Her eyes brimmed again with moisture.
For the second time in two days he knelt before his wife. His tone was incredibly sweet and supportive. “I have his parents’ number. I really think you should call. I am not telling you to, I am saying it would be a good idea. The service is private. If they invite you or us, we should attend.” Claire was shaking her head no. Speaking without crying wasn’t an option. He handed her the telephone number, kissed her gently, and went back to his office.
It may have been half an hour. It may have been three hours. Time had temporarily lost its meaning. Eventually Claire knocked on his office door. Together they made the call. The person that answered hesitated before putting Mrs. Johnson on the line. “This is a difficult time. May I ask who’s calling?”
“My name is Claire, Claire Rawlings.” She remembered that Simon had a younger sister and wondered if that was who was speaking. The voice asked her to hold. Soon Simon’s mother was on the line. “Mrs. Johnson, I’m not sure if you remember me.” She said she did and thanked Claire for calling. Claire offered their condolences. Mrs. Johnson invited them both to the memorial service. Claire had prayed she wouldn’t extend an invitation.
Before the conversation ended, Mrs. Johnson added, “Simon and I were very close. I know how much you meant to him. If possible, could you and Mr. Rawlings arrive early?”
Claire looked at Tony, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. “If you would like us to, we will.”
“Thank you. The service will begin at two but the family is having a private viewing at noon. I would appreciate it if you and Mr. Rawlings could arrive at one.” Claire said they would and Tony hung up.
The flight to Louisville, Kentucky was quiet. Incredibly supportive, Tony didn’t work or read his laptop or do anything that was not directed toward Claire. It added to her discomfort. A driver took them from Louisville to Madison, a small quaint town on the Ohio River. It was the first time Claire had been in Indiana in years. The funeral home resembled a colonial mansion, brick with large white pillars. They arrived early and sat in the car. The entire scenario was unnerving. Claire knew she was fidgeting. Finally, Tony grabbed her hand and squeezed. Claire exhaled and looked at her husband. Astounded by his sensitivity considering this was Simon, she vocalized her thoughts without considering the ramifications. “Why are you being so supportive?”
Perhaps doing the same, “Because I wasn’t able to support you when your parents died.”
Shaken by his quick response, “What? I don’t understand.”
He held her hands. “Claire, you had to go through your parents’ death alone. Emily had John but you didn’t have anyone. You said you haven’t been to a funeral since then. I couldn’t comfort you then, please let me do it now.” She did. Not because he wanted her to, but because she needed him to. She wanted the feeling of love and support he described. She melted into his embrace. When the time came, they walked into the funeral home hand in hand.
Claire recognized Mrs. Johnson immediately, a lovely blond-haired woman with Simon’s big blue eyes. Realistically she wasn’t much older than Tony. Claire tried to act resolved, but her emotions were too fresh, too near the surface. The two women embraced and wept. Mrs. Johnson then directed them to a private room, where they were joined by Simon’s father, sister, and another woman. Claire assumed the slender pretty brunette with brown puffy eyes was Amber.
Being incredibly resilient, Mrs. Johnson asked them to sit and spoke. “Thank you for coming today, Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings, I know Simon would be pleased.”
They both acknowledged her with pleasantries. Claire immediately added, “Please call me Claire.”
“Claire, Simon told me he spoke with you a few months ago. I asked you here early because I wanted to let you know how important that was for him.” She held Claire’s hand. Claire nodded as Mrs. Johnson continued. “You had no way of knowing how much and how long he pined for you. There was a time he believed that if he left you alone until you achieved your career you would be ready to see him again. But seeing you, talking to you, learning that you aren’t what they say . . . well, just learning you are still the Claire he remembered, and most importantly that you are happy. He was finally able to move on.” Claire listened, both with concern for Simon’s mother and Tony. “This is Amber. They were recently engaged.” Claire and Tony both said hello to her. “Simon loved Amber very much, but he had to let you go. I want you to know, you will always be special to our family because our son loved you.” Claire’s chest heaved as she silently wept. Tony comforted her. “You had no way of knowing his feelings, he didn’t convey them. Don’t ever think we have ill feelings toward you. How could anyone hold something against someone when they didn’t even know it was happening?” She squeezed Claire’s hands. “I just thought you should know the importance of your short talk. He walked away knowing you were happily married, he knew he could move on. Thank you.”
Claire tried to smile. “I’m thankful we had the opportunity to talk.” And for the first time, she truly was.
Then Mrs. Johnson addressed Tony. “Mr. Rawlings, God is so funny.”
Tony replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“Mr. Rawlings, if there was one man my son idealized besides his father it was you.” Tony’s eyes reflected the appreciation she sent his way. “He received his start at his dream job in one of your companies. When he first started working there, you made a few visits to their office. You probably don’t remember, but on one occasion you spoke to Simon about one of his projects, he talked about it for months. He aspired to be like you. Now you and Claire are happily married, I just think God has a sense of humor.” She looked lovingly at both of them, introduced them to the rest of the family, and added, “Please sit up toward the front, it would mean a lot to Simon and it means a lot to me.” They did.
Throughout the memorial Tony held Claire’s hand. Later when she tried, she couldn’t remember the service. Between Mrs. Johnson’s words and memories of her parents’ funeral her energy went to appearing composed, fighting the pounding in her head, and not fainting.
On the flight home she thought about Mrs. Johnson’s words, Simon aspired to be Tony. She thought about her assessment of Tony: ruining lives with his business decisions. Maybe there was more to her husband. If Simon aspired to be Tony, maybe there was something there to aspire to. With her head on his lap, she looked up at him and recognized his expression: thoughts in a million different places. She watched his strong jaw that clenched and unclenched, his dark brown eyes, furrowed brow, and perfectly combed hair. Maybe he helped lives too, Mrs. Johnson believed he did. Claire just needed a different perspective.
Grandma Nichols said, “Sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees.” Perhaps she was too close. She knew him, intimately knew his flaws, maybe he was a different man from a distance. The voices in her head debated. People thought Tony a kind, wonderful, generous, benevolent businessman. She knew he could be loving, tender, sensual, and lavish. She also knew a side of him that didn’t fit either description.
He absently stared into space, stroking her blonde hair. She appreciated his efforts over the last few days, he was trying. She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes.
Tony remembered her expression during the funeral, so much overwhelming grief. That kind of emotion was only visible with the loss of someone you love dearly. Of course, she lost two someones. He remembered the church overflowing with people. Even though his death was not in the line of duty, Officer Jordon Nichols received full police honors. There were uniformed cops everywhere. And apparently Shirley Nichols had many bereaved friends and students. Blending into the crowd wasn’t difficult. Now as he stroked her silky hair he believed his plan took a turn that day. Originally he had different designs, but watching her flanked by her sister he knew he had to know her. Actually, reminiscing he knew before then that he didn’t want anyone else knowing her.
The internship was an easy ploy to rid her of Simon. Watching the sadness from Claire and his family today, there was a part of Tony that hated what happened. But it was Simon’s fault. He should have just left Claire alone, but no. His actions in Chicago resulted in the consequences today in Madison.
He beheld her sleeping face on his leg. That day so many years ago she’d been all alone. Today he did what he wanted to do then. It was him, not Emily, not John. She needed him. This wasn’t an occasion for smiles, but knowing she was asleep, he grinned.
As they landed in Iowa he gently woke his wife. It was only about six in the evening but the sky was dark and spitting snow. They hurried from the plane to the warm waiting car. Tony asked Claire a question, “Where would you like to go for our anniversary?”
“Some place sunny and warm.” The desire she didn’t say aloud: alone.
