Mr. Nathaniel Rawls spent a lot of time with his wife. It broke Marie’s heart, to see the look in his eyes as he attempted to make conversation. For the most part, Ms. Sharron was beyond speech. However, if her eyes saw the real world, which rarely occurred, they lit-up when she saw her husband or grandson. Marie learned early that Anton looked remarkably similar to Nathaniel as a young man.
When she was more lucid, Ms. Sharron enjoyed passing the hours looking through old photo albums. Marie learned a great deal about the Rawls’ family history from those albums.
Marie also researched dementia and Alzheimer’s disease and learned recalling memories from the ancient past was somehow easier than recent memories. That inability to recall recent events aided Marie’s monotonous dialogues. It wasn’t like she needed to talk about new things every day or every hour. Ms. Sharron likes the sound; content was unimportant.
There were only so many stories a twenty-three year old could tell. At first she talked about books and movies. For someone so young, her mature interests made good stories. She enjoyed foreign films and biographies. Marie found learning about people and why they did what they did, fascinating. Sometimes instead of telling stories, Marie would read aloud. The mansion had a large library. Marie could find book after book that filled her interests and needs. With time, she also talked about her past. It wasn’t like it mattered. Ms. Sharron couldn’t remember or repeat her sordid story.
The Rawls home was like nothing she’d ever seen, at least not in real life. When she applied for the position, she had no idea of the opulent lifestyle she would enter. And still, behind the gated drive, inside the stately walls, and amongst the luxurious furnishings, they were still just people. It took her a while to realize; but once she did, it made everything less awkward.
Even the great intimidating Nathaniel Rawls was in reality a man, as they say: who puts his pants on one leg at a time. Perhaps it’s the hours they’ve spent at Ms. Sharron’s side, but Marie actually enjoyed his company. And if she wasn’t imagining things, he appeared to enjoy hers. To allow Ms. Sharron the gift of their voices, they discussed unlimited subjects. At first it was superficial, he didn’t seem open to anything else, and Marie was too hurt by her own family to open up with another one. Then with time, they’d comment on books or movies or news. Marie didn’t know the protocol for a job such as hers, and without a doubt, she worked too well with Ms. Sharron for Nathaniel to call her out on her shortcomings.
The end result was a twenty-three-year-old woman who’d argue her points and opinions with a sixty plus year old CEO. She didn’t realize this was wrong. After all, he brought up the conversations, why wouldn’t she answer honestly.
She spent so much time sequestered with Ms. Sharron she didn’t know she was the only one who spoke to Mr. Nathaniel Rawls with such candor. The realization suddenly became apparent at a family dinner. Anton was home from Columbia University, and the mission was to appear as a family united. Conversely, Marie felt tension bubbling from every pore and rippling through the air, resulting in an undercurrent which swallowed everyone’s words and happiness.
Marie knew there were issues at Rawls Corporation. Sometime during their long conversations Nathanial spoke about decisions and risk taking. Marie increasingly admired Mr. Nathaniel’s business sense.
That dinner was a wake-up call. She hadn’t noticed the undercurrent in the beginning of her employment; there was too much to take in. But, this perfect family suffered from serious dysfunction.
Marie understood Alzheimer’s as a sad, degenerative disease. She also wondered if on some level Ms. Sharron wasn’t better off in her own world. The toxic quality of the one around her could cause anyone the desire to escape.
She also understood why Ms. Sharron saw the world as it had been, not as it was. The man who sat by her side, conversed with Marie, and religiously kissed his wife each morning and evening wasn’t the same man who presided over the family meal. What Marie didn’t understand, was why he wouldn’t share his caring side with the rest of his family.
As Ms. Sharron weakened, she no longer made it to the family dining room. Instead her meals were eaten in her suite. At first they were served on a small dining table within the large suite. With time, her eating became less regular. Many times, physical feeding was required. For some reason, she’d only accept this action from Marie or Nathaniel.
The other members of the family faithfully visited every day. Well, Samuel and Amanda did; Anton would when he was home. Marie didn’t blame the young man for staying away. Actually, she understood the need to distance oneself from certain people. And, while Sharron’s son and daughter-in-law were kind to her, they both treated Marie with a kind of superior disregard. Perhaps it was because of Ms. Sharron’s affinity for her. Marie wasn’t sure what she’d done to warrant their acrimony.
Attached to Mrs. Rawls large suite was a smaller one, where Marie resided. The job also included generous pay. However, with no definition of hours, she rarely had time to spend her new found wealth. Besides, she had all her needs met: a place to live and food to eat. With time, Nathaniel offered to purchase clothing. Marie declined. She had plenty of money in her account and didn’t want to take advantage.
One evening, following her refusal of his generosity, she entered her closet to a complete new wardrobe. That incident taught Marie the tenacity of Mr. Rawls’ resolve. If he wanted to do a kindness, he wouldn’t be stopped. Later she would learn the opposite was also true. If he had a score to even... there would be no holds barred.
Anyone can hide. Facing up to things, working through them,
that's what makes you strong.
― Sarah Dessen
Chapter 15
The water wasn’t colder or clearer in first class, nonetheless, it was refreshing. Claire thought about Phillip Roach sitting somewhere behind her, in economy. She’d seen him at the airport. The uneasy way he turned away, as she inclined her head in his direction, made her smile. Having Courtney and Brent’s support filled Claire with more resolve than she could imagine. The feeling of invincibility wouldn’t last forever, but she’d savor it for the time-being.
With her new found strength, Claire forced herself to concentrate on the stack of boxes in her closet. She should have immediately sent them back to Neiman Marcus. She should have called Tony, and said, “Thank you, but I’m busy.” Unfortunately, Claire didn’t do any of those things. Now, she had three days to prepare for a dinner with Anthony Rawlings.
Peering around the first class cabin, she took in the leather seats and heard the hushed voices, barely audible above the drone of the engines. Laying her head against the seat, she wondered how many of the women around her would consider an invitation from the great Anthony Rawlings an honor. Amused by the thought, she reminisced about a time when she didn’t know the name Anthony Rawlings. Unfortunately, she couldn’t allow the memory to linger. Claire knew his name, both current and birth. And most importantly, she knew she’d allowed too much time to pass, to cancel their date. Now, she needed to contrive a plan to control the evening.
Upon arriving home, Amber asked all about her trip. Claire told her about the reunion with her friend. Although she didn’t share the discovery of her saviors, she made no attempt to hide her joy at the way the week progressed.
Claire hesitated telling her friends about her impending reunion. She knew they wouldn’t be happy. On the plane, she decided to concentrate on the angle of learning more about Tony and getting clarification on his confessions. She couldn’t hide from him forever. Actually, she was no longer hidden. This reunion would take place. Claire needed their support to tilt the odds in her favor.
When Amber retired, prior to Claire’s announcement, Harry smiled and asked, “So are you tired from your trip, or would you like to go next door for another video game lesson?”
Throughout her vacation Claire spent some time thinking about their last gaming lesson. Truthfully, she wasn’t looking for a romantic interest. It was e
ven difficult to image herself with anyone but Tony. Yet, as they sat a week ago, side by side, holding the newfangled controllers and laughing at her avatar’s jerky movements, she sensed a mutual admiration. It showed in his soft blue eyes and his encouragement and support. There was no domination or instruction. After her recent loneliness, Harry’s comfort was refreshing and so different than anything with Tony. The light-heartedness, warmth and mutual appreciation allowed her to lower her guard. When he gently eased his arm around her waist, she was only mildly surprised. Instantly, Claire realized she didn’t want to protest. Therefore, when his lips neared hers, she’d intended to submit willingly. But, before she could he stopped.
Claire opened her eyes unsure of what happened. His honest and even timid expression reflected in his words, “Claire, are you sure you’re all right with this?”
His unexpected need for permission flooded her with admiration. Claire didn’t answer, she wasn’t sure if she could trust her voice. Instead she nodded and leaned toward him.
Harry pressed forward and their lips united. She felt his warm chest against her breasts. It had been so long, she unconsciously molded against him.
They didn’t take it beyond kissing and caressing. However, multiple times throughout her vacation the memories of that gaming session infiltrated her thoughts. Lying in the sun she’d suddenly remember his strong arms, unruly hair, or the scent of his aftershave, and uncontrollably she’d feel a tightening somewhere deep inside. It was an old feeling. However, having it brought about by a new source was surprisingly refreshing.
Now, he was asking if she wanted to play video games. She knew he didn’t mean video games. With a twinkle in her eyes she answered, “I don’t know, do you think I still need lessons?”
Harry glanced toward his sister’s room. Turning back to Claire he whispered, “No, I don’t think you need lessons at all. Maybe we could just play?”
“Hmm now that’s an offer a girl can’t refuse.”
He took her hand and led her toward the door.
She’d been in Harry’s condominium many times. Though smaller than Amber’s, the one bedroom unit was equally lavish in design with quality craftsmanship, wooden floors, handcrafted woodwork, granite counters, and ornamental lighting. Nevertheless, what continued to bring a smile to Claire’s face was his amusingly eclectic decor. While obviously equipped by a man, technology was the main focus. Couches, chairs, and tables were secondary to large screens, speakers, and surround sound. All he needed was a pool table in the dining room to have an official bachelor pad. The first time Claire entered his condominium, she half expected to turn the corner and find one, or perhaps foosball, but surprisingly he did indeed have a real dining room table.
“Would you like anything to drink? I have some Cabernet.” Harry asked as they passed the threshold, into his abode. Claire noticed the low set, indirect lighting. She smirked, wondering if she were indeed that predicable.
“Sure. Do you want me to get the PS3 out?” Claire asked with a grin to her voice.
“Unless, you want to practice your skills on the Wii? It does requires more hands-on, you know, use of your entire body.”
“I’ve never played that.”
He was calling from the kitchen. Claire could hear the pop of the cork. “I bet with a little help, you’ll catch on fast.”
Harry entered the living room and handed her a goblet. Smiling, he leaned in for a kiss.
She absorbed his warm smile and willingly accepted his puckered lips. “Can we talk before we try the Wii?”
“We can do whatever you want.” Harry sat on the sofa.
Claire eased herself a few feet away and turned toward his handsome gaze. She never expected this to be so difficult. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you about a delivery that came just before I left on my trip.”
Harry sat his glass on the coffee table and asked, “Delivery? Did you receive more flowers?”
“Not flowers...” Claire went on to tell him about the note and the clothes. She watched as tension tightened his neck muscles. For someone who was mostly calm, the subject of Anthony Rawlings, in more than an abstract sense, initiated obvious unease.
“And you plan to go on this outing? You plan to get into this car he’s sending?”
“Well, I’ve given that some thought. You see, he still doesn’t know I have his private cell number. So, I’ve decided to call him, but not until Wednesday afternoon. Then I’ll inform him of a change of plans.”
Harry picked up his glass and listened while Claire explained her ideas. She would tell Tony that since she knows the area she made reservations at a nearby restaurant. And, she’d meet him there at seven. She wasn’t sure how it would go, but she wanted the ability to leave of her own free will.
“If I ask you, will you tell me something about your relationship with him?”
Claire sipped her wine, “I don’t know. It’s difficult for me to discuss.” She looked at the man only feet away. She entered his condo willing to take their relationship farther. Did she honestly feel better sharing her body, than her memories? He patiently waited, finally she exhaled, “What do you want to know?”
Harry scooted closer, removed the glass of wine from her hand and placed it on the table. She waited for his question. Instead, he leaned down, his lips brushed her neck and he gently kissed that spot between her neck and shoulder. The round scooped neckline of her shirt exposed the sensitive site. Shivering at the light touch of his lips to her skin, tingles descended toward her arms, to her fingers, and down her legs, all the way to her toes.
Claire gasped as she inclined her head, granting him greater access. Before she realized, she was sandwiched between him and his leather sofa. His lips were no longer brushing her skin; they were connecting her lips and skin with a new found urgency. Her body arched as his hands roamed over her tight t-shirt and caressed her lacy bra covered breasts. When her mind caught-up to their actions or more accurately her reactions, she whispered, “I thought you wanted to ask me questions.”
He supported his head, near her face and looked down into her beautiful gaze, “I needed to know if I could ask.” He gently kissed her lips, “Right now, I’d rather do something else.”
Claire smiled and purred, “Good, there’re better things to do right now.” She arched her back, feeling her nipples rub against the weight of his chest and nuzzled his neck. The aroma of his aftershave combined with the stubble on his neck electrified desires she’d compartmentalized away.
There was no question, those desires weren’t gone. They spilled out with a vengeance.
*****
As the airliner taxied to the San Jose gate, Sophia summoned her brightest smile. It wasn’t too difficult. After nearly two weeks of separation, she was truly excited to see her husband. Without fail, they’d spoken every day. Unquestionably, that wasn’t the same as being together. She longed to feel his embrace and taste his lips.
Sophia consulted the screen of her iPhone and retrieved an email she’d received earlier in the day. It wasn’t from Derek, but from Danny, Derek’s new personal assistant. Sophia wondered if the term Personal Assistant was manufactured so men wouldn’t feel awkward being identified as secretaries. Danny not only handled Derek’s business at work, he’d assisted Derek with apartment hunting and learning the area.
The email said Derek would be waiting for her in Terminal B near baggage claim. She felt her anticipation rise as she stood to exit the plane.
With all of Sophia’s experience with international travel, San Jose’s small easy to maneuver airport made locating her desired destination simple. She did however, have trouble locating her husband.
A gentleman in a chauffer’s uniform stood near the baggage carousel. Subconsciously Sophia read his sign: Mrs. Derek Burke.
After three years of marriage she should recognize her name. However, momentarily it confused her. First, she expected Derek. And second, her name was Sophia Burke. Other than on guest books at weddings and
funerals, she’s never referred to herself as Mrs. Derek Burke. The sensation of the shutters came back. The clamor of voices dissipated as she listened to the rusty hinges creak. What happened to Sophia Rossi Burke? She wondered.
Sophia sat in the back seat of a company limousine, while the chauffer drove her to Shedis-tics. In an effort to remain calm, she peered through the tinted windows at the unfamiliar terrain. Occasionally she’d see the mountains Derek promised. Admittedly, she enjoyed their blue hue.
Apparently, Derek had an unexpected web conference he couldn’t miss. He was very sorry. The apology came through loud and clear -- on a text message. He promised a better reunion, once they made their way to their new home.
The limousine pulled into a generous semi-circular drive with a large fountain surrounding the Shedis-tics sign. Tall palm trees intermingled with soft pines created a landscaped barrier to the road. The multi-leveled glass building was more spread out than office buildings on the East coast. The building was actually a complex of interconnected glass and mirrored structures.
The car stopped, the driver opened Sophia’s door, and she thanked him for the ride. “What about my luggage?” She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to take it into Derek’s office.
“Mrs. Burke, I believe I am to wait for you. We will leave it in the car until I hear otherwise.”
Sophia agreed, all the while questioning her own ability to make decisions. Why would the driver be waiting if she were leaving with Derek? Tentatively she entered the glass building.