Experience: is the most brutal of teachers.
But you learn, my god, do you learn.
—C. S. Lewis
Chapter 19
Claire woke Thursday morning to the unfamiliar sound of rain. With the dryness of the summer, she questioned the pitter-patter at first. But as her mind cleared, the noise made sense. Going directly to the window, she saw droplets on the window, gray clouds and puddles on the ground below. She was so excited about the lake but didn’t want to walk five miles each direction in the rain and mud. The disappointment overwhelmed her. How could it rain on the one day she wanted sun? With Tony gone, the day dragged on endlessly.
Friday morning, she lay in bed and listened for the sound of rain. Straining her ears, she only heard silence. Tentatively looking out the window, Claire beheld the crystal clear blue sky. It was as though the rain washed the dust and dryness of the summer away. Everything looked fresh and clean. The bright early morning sunshine glistened on the moist leaves.
Wearing her robe, she went out onto the balcony and immediately realized the drop in temperature. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and gazed out over the polychromatic woods. The crisp autumn fragrance penetrated deep into her lungs. It would be muddy, but she didn’t care. She would wear an older pair of shoes and make her way to her lake.
Getting ready that morning, her reflection caught her by surprise. The new lighter hair made her skin tone lighter and her eyes appear deeper green. It wasn’t as if she suddenly looked like Marilyn Monroe, but her reflection looked more blonde than ever before. Claire wasn’t sure what she thought of her new look, but she did know that Tony wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. So she pulled it back in a ponytail.
While dressing, Claire realized she didn’t own anything old as in old shoes. Everything was new or at least looked new. The clothes that had been in her closet almost six months ago were gone, now too large. Whether she shopped or not, her wardrobe never waned. Currently, sweaters and jackets multiplied while she slept. Luckily, her feet weren’t changing size, so the hiking boots she requested months ago were waiting and ready. She decided she would just clean them when she got home.
Catherine didn’t approve of Claire’s plan. The ground would be muddy and slippery. What if she fell and twisted something? Claire promised she would be safe. She told Catherine it had been so long since she hiked in the woods. She wanted to stay out as long as possible. Claire said she would return, she simply didn’t know when. Catherine promised dinner upon her arrival, no matter how late. She also provided Claire with a packed lunch complete with water bottles and a thermos of warm coffee. It was after ten when she left the backyard.
It had been almost a month but Claire knew each turn to find her lake. At almost noon she reached her destination. The shore looked exactly like she remembered, except now the trees surrounding the lake were multicolored with rich vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges. Green was definitely the minority. Certain varieties of deciduous trees were completely bare. She suddenly wondered what made some trees lose their leaves earlier than others. She had some research to do.
The scent of autumn filled the air, thick, poignant, fresh, and spicy. After yesterday’s wind and rain the air was still, the remaining leaves didn’t rustle, and the lake was calm. The water resembled a giant mirror. The colorful trees on the shoreline reflected on the water. Claire wished she had a camera. The simplistic beauty made a picture-perfect postcard.
The sounds of nature were everywhere: bees or yellow jackets buzzed in the autumn sunshine, birds sang, and forest rodents scurried through the fallen leaves. She watched as ducks swam on the beautiful smooth lake, leaving wakes as their trail. Some floated near the shore, occasionally dipping their heads under the water, filling their stomachs for their flight south. September was almost half done, she would head south too if she could. Hopefully she would be going to Atlanta before long.
When Claire dressed, she put on jeans, a workout T-shirt, and a jacket. Now that the sun glowed high and strong, the warmth allowed her to remove the jacket. By late afternoon she even took off her boots, rolled up her jeans, and waded into the water. Part of her understood the possibility that she may not make it back to the lake before winter. She wanted to experience as much of it as she could. Of course, she hoped that her debt would be paid soon. More realistically she recognized that her duties now included travel. If she were expected to accompany Tony out of town, she wouldn’t be home to explore.
The cold water made her feet tingle. She watched her brightly polished toes as she stepped on pebbles and her toes squished in the underwater terra. When she stood still the minnows swarmed, investigating the bright red toenails. Some even nibbled at her toes, it tickled.
Claire ate her lunch midafternoon, but her stomach told her she needed dinner soon. Finding some coffee in the thermos, no longer warm, she pretended it was a frappuccino without the crushed ice. It helped to fill the void until she reached the promise of Catherine’s dinner.
The daylight hours were decreasing and before she knew it the sky began to redden. Glancing at her watch, it was after seven; she wondered where the day had gone as the most beautiful scene unfolded before her eyes. Sitting on the shore she watched the sky as the sun settled over the lake. She couldn’t make herself get up and go back to the house as the lovely postcard picture transformed into a stunning explosion of crimson. The setting sun caused the few cumuliform clouds to change from white to gray to pink, and then to a vibrant red. The radiance beamed onto the leaves, altering their color. The scene continued to improve in brilliance. The beauty continued to grow. Claire sat patiently and watched with a new sense of contentment.
Once the sun reached the line of trees at the far end of the lake, the darkness quickly extended over the land. Claire remembered Catherine, she would be worried. The idea of walking back in the dark woods should have frightened her, but it didn’t. She knew her way back. In the daylight it took her an hour and forty-five minutes to reach the house or an hour to reach the clearing.
When she stepped into the clearing the illumination from the moon allowed her to see her watch, eight thirty. She wasn’t making bad time but it would be almost nine-thirty before she reached home. The air had cooled but still tasted fresh and clean, she inhaled and set off as fast as she could. Direction wasn’t the issue, it was safety. The ground not only had limbs and roots as obstacles, but the rain had left muddy areas that made her slip. One time her left foot slid making her right knee muddy.
When she stepped into the backyard her eyes focused on her watch, it was nine thirty-five. The last leg of her trip took longer than normal. Her stomach growled for dinner, but her first priority was removing the muddy boots, jeans, and taking a shower or a nice bath. She left the boots on the back stoop.
The carpeted floor of the southeast corridor felt soft under her feet compared to the hiking boots. It also quieted her steps. As she opened the door to her suite, her thoughts ran between removing her muddy jeans and a warm shower. Although the room was dark, navigation was easy. She even considered leaving the light off. Then she remembered Catherine. Turning on the light would let her know she’d returned. As she reached for the light switch she sensed his presence. Before she could speak an arm come down over her neck and her head turned sharply upward as her ponytail was pulled back. It all happened so fast, she gasped.
His fierce voice in the darkness was unmistakable, “Where the fuck have you been?”
She tried to respond but the arm around her neck restricted her air intake. She couldn’t breathe, much less speak. He let go of her momentarily while he spun her around. Now she faced him. His hands gripped her shoulders with a force she never experienced. His warm breath hit her face with each word. “I asked you a question. Where the fuck have you been?”
She coughed at the sudden intake of oxygen and tried to respond, “Tony, I didn’t think you were coming home until tomorrow.”
That wasn’t an answer to his question. Alt
hough the lights were still off, her eyes adjusted quickly as the bright moonlight streamed through the unblocked windows. With diminished light, distinguishing color is difficult, but Claire didn’t need to see color to know his eyes contained none. He released the grip on her shoulder with his right hand and struck her. His left hand stopped her from falling. He supported her only to confront her again.
“I have asked you a question twice. I will not ask again.” And his hand contacted her cheek again, harder this time.
“Tony, please stop.” She gasped for breath as her temple and cheek stung. “I was hiking in the woods.”
He let go of her shoulders, shoving her onto the sofa. He followed her and loomed over her body as she lay against the cushions. “Do you expect me to believe you were in the woods until this time of night?”
She tried to explain, “I was in the woods. The sun was setting. It was so beautiful.” Her words came in gasps.
Finally, he yelled, “Shut the fuck up! You were out there because you knew I was coming home and you didn’t want to face me after what you did.”
Claire’s mind spun. She didn’t know what she had done. “I don’t know what you mean. You told me you were coming home on Saturday, this is still Friday. I haven’t done anything.”
Tony slapped her again and called her a liar. Then he walked over to the light switch and turned it on. Claire watched him. His suit coat was gone and his shirt and slacks looked wrinkled. His chest visibly expanded and contracted with labored breaths and his eyes were not only black but violent. In the past he’d been upset, but in control. Tonight his self-control was replaced with rage. She knew he’d passed some invisible threshold. Claire just didn’t know why, but the reason scared the hell out of her. He walked to her dining table and picked up some papers.
“Then tell me, tell me how this is a misunderstanding.” He shook the pages in his hand while his words came too close together. “I jumped to conclusions last time. Tell me how I am doing that now.”
Claire feared talking, but she did. “Tony, I am sorry. I really don’t know what you are talking about.” He threw the pages at her, they scattered on the floor near her feet. When he didn’t move, she bent down to pick them up. Her vision now blurry from tears, she tried desperately to blink and focus on the pages.
They were typed, from the Internet. The last two pages contained pictures: pictures of the two of them at the symphony, at some event she couldn’t distinguish, in New York, and walking down the street in Chicago, arm in arm. Then there were pictures of Claire, in college, with friends and one of her and Meredith sitting at a table talking.
The breath in her chest suddenly dissipated. Her eyes focused on the words: “Questions Answered—the Mystery Woman in Anthony Rawlings’s Life Agrees to a One on One Interview.”
Claire’s eyes grew wide and immediately overflowed with a flood of tears. She couldn’t believe what she read. Oh my god! She didn’t agree to an interview. She wouldn’t do that!
“Tony, oh my god, I did not agree to an interview.”
“So you are telling me that the picture of you talking to this woman is a print shop fabrication and this is a colossal misunderstanding?” He pointed to the picture as he stood over Claire. His closeness filled her with dread. It was her talking to Meredith, but it wasn’t an interview.
“It is me, but—” His hands picked her off the sofa and pinned her against a wall. “I wasn’t giving an interview.” She hit the wall with enough force for a picture to fall. His grip hurt her arms, she could taste the salt of her tears, and her ears reverberated with his booming voice and rang from his repeated slaps.
His face descended upon hers. “Then what in the hell are you doing?” He shook her again. “Claire, I put my trust in you! You told me I could trust you and I believed you. I sent you to a spa day. This is how you thank me? By breaking all my rules, by public failure?” he dropped her to the floor like a rag doll.
Claire scurried to pick up the papers. She wanted to know what the article said. “What is this?”
“It is an exclusive Internet release of an upcoming story. It will run simultaneously in People and Rolling Stone.” He hovered over her and then turned abruptly away. He went to the bookshelf, picked up a book, and threw it into the fireplace. He tried to gain control of his anger and of himself. “Shelly, my publicist found it today and immediately forwarded a copy to me. I flew home as soon as I could.” She wondered how long he’d been waiting and brewing in her suite. She desperately tried to read.
Well, you believe you know Anthony Rawlings, forty-five, self-made billionaire? Or maybe you would like to know him? You may be too late. Since May of 2010 Anthony has been seen out on the town with the same mystery woman. Up until now we have not known much about Anthony’s special woman. That is until she agreed to sit down with old friend and freelance writer Meredith Banks. The woman in Anthony Rawlings’s life is Claire Nichols, twenty-six. She is originally from Fishers, Indiana, just outside of Indianapolis.
Claire graduated from Valparaiso University, Valparaiso, Indiana in 2006. She has a bachelor’s degree in meteorology. Ms. Nichols and Meredith were in the same sorority from 2003 through 2006. It is believed that this long-time friendship is why Claire finally agreed to sit down and discuss her relationship with one of the world’s top bachelors.
Claire looked up from the page in her hand. Tony sat on the sofa and watched her reaction as she sat on the floor and read. Her whole body trembled as nausea erupted in her empty stomach.
“Tony, I did go to school with Meredith, she did come up to me the other day and started talking. I didn’t know she was a reporter. I wasn’t giving an interview. I didn’t say anything about you. Your name was never mentioned!”
He didn’t speak. Instead, he nodded toward the pages and she continued to read.
Anthony Rawlings has long been seen as a wonderful catch for that one deserving woman. He dated such women as supermodel Cynthia Simmons and recording artist Julia Owens. However, none of his previous relationships lasted very long. That is until now, now that Rawlings and Nichols have been together. These two were first seen together in late May (see picture) at the Quad City Symphony not far from the large wooded estate of Anthony Rawlings. And since that time, they have been spotted by curious onlookers at various charity events, as well as taking on two of the nation’s biggest cities, New York (see picture) and Chicago (see picture).
The question all eligible bachelorettes are asking, why Claire? What makes her the woman for a man like Anthony Rawlings? Perhaps it is her youth, her beauty, or her style. Obviously, from her college days to present, she has found her flair!
While Claire would neither confirm nor deny that she and Anthony Rawlings were involved. She didn’t deny living in the Iowa City area. Could that address perhaps be the same as Mr. Rawlings’s?
Social Security records indicate that Ms. Nichols’ only employment has been as a bartender since losing her job in 2009 at WKPZ in Atlanta, Georgia. WKPZ was purchased by TTT-TV, resulting in the layoff of many employees. Yet despite this loss of employment Ms. Nichols was seen shopping in Chicago at such stores as Saks Fifth Avenue, Anne Fontaine, Cartier, Giorgio Armani, and Louis Vuitton. It was also rumored that Ms. Nichols spent the better part of the day enjoying all the comforts money could buy at one of the most exclusive day spas in Chicago.
Claire used to spend her days in Chicago (see picture) with many different men from Valparaiso University. Now it seems she is enjoying the better life with only one man. (see picture). The two of them walking arm in arm on their way to the theater. The performers will be happy to know that Claire and Anthony enjoyed the performance of “Wicked.”
The final bit of evidence confirming their involvement came when Ms. Claire Nichols was ushered to the eighty-ninth floor of Trump Tower, the private city dwelling belonging to none other than Mr. Anthony Rawlings.
Emily Vandersol, twenty-nine, sister and only living relative of Ms. Nichols was asked about
her knowledge of Claire and Anthony’s relationship. Mrs. Vandersol informed Ms. Banks that she recently spoke to Claire and she sounded well. There hadn’t been any mention of Anthony Rawlings during their conversation. Mrs. Vandersol had no further comment.
Sorry, ladies, it seems that Ms. Claire Nichols is holding on to Anthony Rawlings. What will she tell us about this private man? We are anxiously waiting to learn.
Byline: Meredith Banks
Claire held the papers even though she finished the article. She desperately searched for something to say, some explanation. Finally, she set the pages on the floor but she didn’t look up. She knew there was nothing to say. The article hadn’t revealed any information, although the sensational title alluded it would. Tony knew that, he flew all the way home. He obviously read the article multiple times.
It was her in the picture. She was talking to Meredith. It wasn’t what it seemed, but in her head she could hear him, she could hear his voice. Now she could hear him getting up and walking toward her.
“Appearances, Claire, how many times have I told you? Appearances mean everything. There is a picture right here of you sitting with her, the author. It doesn’t matter if what she writes is accurate, it is believable because she is seen talking to you.” He wasn’t yelling, he’d regained some control, yet the aura of rage remained. Claire didn’t want to look into his black eyes even though she could feel them staring at her.
“Get up.” She knew that she should, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t, her body was paralyzed with fear. She had no defense and had disobeyed his rules. His volume increased, “Claire, get up!”