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Consequences

Page 32

by Aleatha Romig


  Claire looked at all the clothes Catherine packed. She literally spent her days in bath robes, bathing suits, beach covers, and a sundress for dinner. There was no need to wear clothes or any occasion to do so. Actually, they spent a great deal of their time without any clothing. Situations wouldn’t usually start that way: a swim in the lagoon, sunbathing on the beach, or a night swim in the pool; but more often than not concluded that way.

  The sun brought back Claire’s bronze skin from summer. It started to subside with the beginning of autumn. Her accident had accelerated the process, leaving her complexion pale. Tony told her she looked beautiful, the fair complexion made her eyes standout, the emerald green more intense. Seeing herself now, she believed the tanned skin with the blonde hair looked healthier. Her eyes still looked prominent. If she needed to be blonde, she liked herself better with a tan. Unlike her tan during the summer, this one lacked lines.

  Other than the staff, Tony and Claire didn’t see anyone during the entire ten-day stay. They were completely secluded and tucked away from the world. Christmas came and went. They wished each other a merry one but there were no evergreens or snow. To Claire that was wonderful. She would take warmth and sunshine over cold and snow anytime. Besides, there had been plenty of decorations at home for the wedding. Tony apologized for not having a gift for her on Christmas morning. She told him it made her happy. He had given her too many gifts; besides, the honeymoon was her gift and she loved it. She repeatedly explained that she didn’t care about monetary things. The more she protested the more Tony pointed out the advantages. He wanted her to realize she had it all and the ability to get anything else. The world was hers for the asking.

  The tropical climate was well known for its fruit, and the chefs had it available at all times. There were papayas, pineapples, bananas, avocados, pears, mangoes, and limes. They prepared them in salads, side dishes, entrees, and constantly available fresh. Together they learned how incredibly sensual fruit could be.

  Tony would tease Claire’s lips with the sweet aromatic juice of a freshly cut pineapple or papaya. Gently placing it on her tongue, she would close her lips to suck the juice from his fingertips. Often as the fragrant fruit passed her lips, the juices dripped down her chin, where Tony would attempt to remove the sugary nectar with his tongue. At times he’d accidentally drop the sticky fruit and it would fall on Claire’s breasts or stomach. He’d then eat it directly from her bare skin. The result was sultry and exhilarating. The outdoor shower was an excellent steamy setting to wash away the tacky, clammy sweet liquids. However, it always began a new adventure.

  On more than one occasion he tested her endurance. His encouragement was always gentle, affectionate, and sensual. At times his physical touch caused such erotic convulsions that she felt she would never experience such a high again. And then she would. Claire contemplated Emily’s question the night before her wedding. If he was this unquenchable at forty-five, she shuddered to think what he would have been like at twenty-five.

  He mentioned on multiple occasions that he was thrilled to have Claire as his wife, but with this title came responsibility. She had done well most of the time in the past. Now it’s different. She’s no longer an enigma, no longer a rumor, she was Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. Her actions, words, and appearance reflect directly upon him. He loved her and wanted her as happy as she was here in paradise, but the real world was coming. He wanted her prepared.

  For ten days of complete togetherness, no possible threat of the outside world, chance of public failure, opportunity for breaking rules, and risk of negative consequences, Claire enjoyed the chocolate hue of Tony’s eyes. She could give herself and keep him satisfied. She found a place of contentment with her situation and happiness in her decisions.

  Sometimes while lounging she would think about the out Tony offered in Central Park. She wondered would she have been happier? Where would she be? And the biggest unanswered question, would he really have let her go? Then she would open her eyes and see a lush tropical paradise, incredibly handsome generous husband, and recognize that her decisions led her to this consequence. She could live with that.

  Thursday afternoon, December 30, Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings rejoined Eric at Tony’s plane in Nadi. This time they traveled back in time, arriving back in Iowa City Thursday night. Glistening under a blanket of white snow, the house looked regal as they approached. The decorations were gone, but the houselights shone upon the brick and river stone facade. It was magnificent and welcoming. Paradise had been just that, but now they were home.

  There is a wisdom of the head, and a wisdom of the heart.

  —Charles Dickens

  Chapter 32

  Samuel believed it a farce, the nightly meal with everyone present, his parents, wife, and son. Yes, they lived in the same house, but the formal meals seemed overkill. It reminded him of the TV show Dallas with Nathaniel reigning as omnipotent patriarch.

  Amanda looked to her husband as the dinner concluded. Samuel leaned over and affectionately kissed his wife’s cheek. “I need to speak to my father for a few minutes. I’ll be upstairs in a little while.”

  She smiled. “All right. I’ll be waiting.” But her eyes questioned her husband.

  “I won’t be long.” Then whispering, “I’ll fill you in later, I promise.” Amanda’s eyes smiled as she looked into Samuel’s face. She knew the rules. You don’t question anything in front of Nathaniel. Dealing with her father-in-law was worth it, she adored her husband.

  “Anton and I will be upstairs.”

  Their son, home from boarding school, watched his parents. “I’ll be up in a minute, Mother. I need to do something.” Amanda smiled at her husband and son. Anton had grown so much during the past semester. Only fifteen, he stood half a foot taller than her. And his eyes could shine, but she saw his grandfather’s darkness too. More than anything she wanted to keep that darkness away.

  “All right, maybe we can watch a movie when we all get to our suites? I have some new videos.” Amanda began the ascent up the grand stairs.

  Samuel straightened his neck and walked down the corridor toward his father’s office. The double doors stood as a barrier to the inflexible man within. Inhaling deeply he formed a fist. Respectfully, he knocked on the grand double doors. He listened for the words from within. “Come in.” This wasn’t going to go well. His father knew his displeasure with the recent direction of Rawls Corp. Now the recent positive slant and the unexpected shareholder acceptance were too much. These ideas from Jared Clawson had to stop.

  One idea reaped Rawls millions. The next cost them millions. Currently, the balance sheet was in their favor, but the risks and the possible legal repercussions weren’t worth the benefits. Stepping into the large office, Samuel silently prayed that he would be able to make his father see his point of view.

  The man behind the desk sat bold and defiant. “I wondered how long it would take you to confront me.”

  “I didn’t think we needed an audience.” Samuel closed the double doors, unaware that they were slightly ajar.

  “Always worried about others’ opinion.” Nathaniel grinned. “Obviously a trait you received from your mother. I don’t give a damn what others think.”

  “Perhaps you should.”

  “Speak your mind.”

  “You know my thoughts. You need to get rid of Jared Clawson. You need to stop these alternative means of financial gain.”

  Nathaniel laughed deep and low. “I need?”

  “Father, I’m sorry, maybe need isn’t the best word. You should.”

  “You are sorry? You are a weak piece of shit!” Nathaniel stood and walked around his grand desk, facing his son. “Didn’t you learn anything? Don’t apologize! Apologies are for cowards, they make you appear weak.”

  Standing tall, Samuel continued his mission. “This situation is getting out of hand.”

  Nathaniel laughed again. “Out of hand, like we are making millions upon millions. And this is bad?”

&nbs
p; “We were doing well before, and it was legal.”

  “So what part of these monies don’t you like? Your wife is enjoying the money and your son is enjoying the best education. You, your wife, your son will never know what it is like to be without. Tell me again what you don’t like.”

  “I believe they would’ve been happy with our earnings before. Amanda and Anton do not need excess. Neither do I.” Samuel watched his father turn back toward his plush leather chair. “Neither does Mother.”

  Changing directions, Nathaniel abruptly turned and struck his son’s left cheek. “Don’t you ever tell me what your mother wants. You have no idea what she’s been through. You have never lived as we did. Money is good for one thing, it buys what you need, what you want. And because of my decisions you and Anton will never worry about money. Do not ever tell me what to do with my business, and don’t apologize. I raised you better than that!”

  He knew there wasn’t an answer for his father. Samuel turned to walk away.

  “Where are you going, boy?”

  “I am going upstairs to my wife. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “You are going upstairs, to the upper level of my house. No. I don’t have a problem. Do you?”

  “No, Father, I do not.” Samuel exited the office and briefly saw Anton’s face. The teenager had witnessed the entire scene. Samuel hoped that when they entered their suite they could talk about it. His son would know that discussion was welcome.

  God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom

  to know the difference.

  —Reinhold Niebuhr

  Chapter 33

  The view through the windshield of Tony’s new Mercedes-Benz CLS-Class Coupe reminded Claire of space movies. The snowflakes were stars being passed at warp speed. The snow, wind, and subfreezing temperature accentuated the reality that they were no longer in paradise. She settled into the heated seat, rubbed her leather gloved hands, and watched the snow covered terrain. The glistening sparkles would’ve been pretty if not for the blowing and accumulation. Tony didn’t mind. He was enjoying his new car, which had arrived at the estate while they were gone. To Claire’s relief, it handled amazingly well on snow.

  Although almost eight at night, she felt as though she was finally waking, the jet lag was difficult to navigate. Both she and Tony slept late following their arrival back to reality. Now as they headed to Tom and Bev’s for a New Year’s Eve celebration, she thought about their return.

  When they entered the estate, Catherine’s welcoming smile was the best sight Claire could imagine. They immediately embraced. The peaceful stillness of the mansion, barren of decorations and workers, was comforting. She and Tony ate a light dinner and fell sound to sleep.

  It was this morning, while more awake, that they discussed their bedroom situation. Now that they’re married, should they move into one room? When Tony asked her opinion, a benchmark moment, she replied she liked maintaining two rooms. The most important thing was that they sleep together, the location was irrelevant. Claire told him she liked her suite. Truth be told, she did. Yes, she knew it had surveillance and memories, but it was also where she felt safe and at home. Maybe she’d come to terms with the recordings. She felt . . . well, secure. If Tony could watch her every move, he wouldn’t question her actions. She also mentioned, “Besides, my suite doesn’t match yours in terms of technology.” His had the big multifaceted screen and God knows what else. “And you wouldn’t be able to access all your stock market data from here.”

  Since their big storm last summer Claire hadn’t been required or asked to watch any more videos, but she believed Tony did. She also believed that he could access anything he wanted from his office, bedroom, movie theater, or anywhere else he chose. This hadn’t been confirmed, but somehow she suspected it to be true.

  His reply was why even now as they drove Claire was still stewing. “I think that sounds reasonable, I don’t believe we will be running out of room anytime soon.” As Claire watched, the honeymoon hue of Tony’s eyes was overtaken by darkness. “However, regarding the technology you mentioned, I believe it would be prudent to maintain the past restrictions involving my office and bedroom. I do not think you need unsupervised access to computers, Internet, or telephones.”

  “Tony, I am your wife. What do you think I will do?”

  “I think that it is best to avoid possible glitches.” He lifted her chin. “Do you agree, or would you like to discuss it further?” He’d closed the conversation.

  Claire stared into his eyes, squared her shoulders, and straightened her neck. “I agree. Excuse me. I need to take a shower.” He released her chin and she walked away. She’d learned months ago she didn’t like glitches, and pursuing a closed conversation wasn’t prudent. However, every bone in her body wanted to pursue it. She really didn’t care about the technology. She didn’t want to access it. Claire wanted the ability to access it!

  Ten hours later, as they rode to Tom and Bev’s party, she contemplated the closed conversation. Now that she was Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, didn’t that give her some kind of clout? Some perks? Could she possibly revisit the subject without fear of retaliation? As she debated this internally and watched the glistening flakes sparkle in the illumination of the Mercedes’ beams, she wondered if her life had changed. She was Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, but was that really different from being Ms. Claire Nichols?

  “Do you agree?” Tony’s question pulled Claire from her thoughts.

  “I am sorry. I didn’t hear your question.”

  “I asked if you would prefer the view in Fiji over this frozen splendor of Iowa.”

  Claire laughed. “I don’t think you need to ask, do you?”

  “Probably not, but I am trying to get you to talk.”

  “I’m talking.”

  “Yes, you are. But you haven’t really been talking since this morning. Would you like to discuss it before we get to Tom’s?”

  Claire thought about the question. Yes, she wanted to revisit the subject, but should she? “I don’t know.” Her feet were cold and the fashionable boots weren’t helping. She tried to get them under the blow of the Mercedes’ heater. “If I say yes, am I opening a closed subject?”

  Tony appreciated the fact his wife was thinking this through. “Yes, I guess you are. Is it worth it to you?”

  The interior of the car was warm, yet Claire pushed her gloved hands deeper into the pockets of her fur jacket and considered the implications. Did she really care anymore about technology? Was it worth pushing this discussion? She knew immediately the answer was no. “I think my decision is to not reopen the conversation. However, I want you to know it isn’t the technology I long for. It is the ability to access it.”

  Tony smirked. “Claire, your talents were wasted in meteorology. You would’ve made a wonderful businesswoman. You just said you didn’t want to pursue the subject, yet you managed to enlighten me about your motivation. I am, once again, impressed.”

  This didn’t help her disposition. The snow was coming at the windshield with enough velocity to make her feel as though they were flying thought space at hyperspeed. Her lips pressed tightly into a line. Finally, she asked, “What kind of response do you expect?”

  “Honest, as always.”

  “Okay. Seriously, who do I have left to contact? I don’t understand why you feel the restrictions are still necessary. God knows I know the rules.” The branches of the pines lay low with inches of heavy accumulating snow. Keeping her gaze to her right, Claire could see them through the side window. They were nearing the Millers’ home and the sound of soft music filled the air. Tony didn’t respond. After all, this discussion was closed. The familiar feeling of powerlessness filled Claire’s chest. She wanted the conversation to end. “I love you. I will do whatever you want or expect of me. I admit I’m not pleased by your verdict, but I’m okay. Let’s spend tonight with our friends and welcome the New Year.” At
least she’d explained her view. That was something.

  The Millers’ home was magnificent. Beverly had fantastic taste in decor. It was ultramodern yet amazingly inviting. The unique style was a combination of stone, brick, and wood, accentuated with glass and chrome. Despite the numerous windows, the house was warm. They could watch the snow and wind and stay snug inside. Perhaps it was the fire in the fireplace or the wine in their glasses, but the gathering radiated warmth.

  Their friends happily celebrated their return. They wanted to know all about the honeymoon. Claire told them that it had been wonderful. Tony had literally taken her to paradise. Everyone told Tony and Claire how wonderful their wedding was. They were a beautiful couple. Sue mentioned how beautiful their pictures were in the press release. Claire hadn’t thought about press coverage until that moment.

  “I haven’t seen the released pictures. Do you have copies?” Bev said she didn’t but would be glad to pull them up online. Glancing at her husband, he didn’t speak, but his eyes did. Claire knew she shouldn’t, but she agreed. “Thank you, I would love to see them.”

  Instead of bringing out a computer, Bev removed a remote from a drawer and pointed it at the large television on the wall. The New Year’s countdown from Time Square changed to a homepage. Bev entered “Anthony Rawlings” into the search engine. Nine months ago, the procedure would’ve seemed mundane, but now it fascinated Claire. She would’ve loved to take the time to read the multitude of pages that appeared as options. Bev reduced the search by entering “wedding.” Claire briefly saw an accompanying article; but within seconds, Bev clicked, and the pictures appeared on the screen. Claire stared. There they were in their wedding attire. There were three different pictures: a head shot, a full-length frontal view, and one of them dancing. Everyone watched Claire as she beheld herself on the screen. She looked at Tony and herself. They looked like models. Tony was tall, handsome, and buff, dark hair, dark eyes, and tuxedo contrasting dramatically with Claire. She looked petite, blonde, and striking. Her hair was so light she assumed some of her friends from before may not recognize her. Next to Tony, she seemed small. Tony had been right about her eyes. In the head shot, her green eyes shined vividly. She’d seen her dress in the mirror. But seeing it on the television screen and looking at it from afar, it was obviously eye-catching, elegant, and spectacular. She smiled. It had been a good choice.

 

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