Consequences(109)

On the way home Tony praised Claire for all she did and said. He also informed her he needed to be in New York the following week. It was up to her if she joined him; however, she may not realize Thursday, of next week, would be Thanksgiving. He couldn’t promise he would be back. He may have to stay until Friday. He’d like her to join him—if she was up to it.

Claire knew the intense therapy of the last two days had helped revitalize her. “I may need naps, but I want to go.”


During the week between the Simmons and New York, Claire made strides in her recovery. It was as if a black veil had been lifted. For weeks—even months—the entire world was gray. The release of suppressed emotions and Tony’s promise removed the veil. The trees were still leafless and the grass still lacked color, but the world was once again alive.

Instead of sleeping to get energy, Claire began moving. First, she walked around the house, then swam in the indoor pool, and enjoyed the hot tub. She even ventured to the theater room, and she made herself watch a movie. It was a musical, Hairspray with John Travolta. She smiled. It was her first trip to the theater room since Tony had taken her there.

Monday evening they flew to New York watching the sky grow dark as they headed east. Eric drove them directly to Tony’s apartment, and Jan waited for their arrival with dinner. From the spectacular view of the seventy-sixth floor, the city vibrantly glistened with lights and activity. They ate in the dining room and watched little cars drive on busy little streets far below.

That night, exhausted from traveling, they settled into Tony’s bed and he handed Claire a black velvet box. Her shoulders slumped. “Tony, please stop. No more black velvet boxes. I have plenty of jewelry. I love it all, but I don’t need it. I feel bad about you spending all this money on me.”

“Well, first, if you haven’t noticed, money isn’t an issue, and what good is money if it doesn’t buy the things I want? Besides, this is a special gift.”

Claire raised her eyebrows.

He continued, “Somehow, with all that’s happened in the past two months, I made an awful mistake”—she feared he was talking about the accident—“I realized it when I was getting your ID and credit card.”

Now she knew what he meant; he’d missed her birthday. “It’s all right. I’ve received plenty of gifts lately.” She tried to give him back the box.

“No!” he declared. “It’s not all right. You had a birthday, your twenty-seventh, on October 17.” He firmly, yet tenderly, held her hands with the box in them, while his tone softened. “The other gifts were because of your accomplishments”—and your guilt—Claire added mentally—“This one is for your birthday.”

She looked helplessly at the box. He continued, “Okay, I’m a cheapskate.” With a frisky grin he added, “I’m regifting—again.”

Looking at the box Claire pondered the possibilities of his regifting. Her eyes opened wide as she lifted the velvet lid to reveal her grandmother’s necklace. It looked perfect—absolutely no evidence of the accident it had endured. She beamed at Tony, closed the box, and put it on the bedside stand. Scooting close to him, she rested her head on his chest as her green eyes gleamed with moisture. “I think you’re doing a great job of enticing me to feeling better. I wonder sometimes how I got here.” The fatigue made her head pound. When she closed her eyes moisture escaped as tears onto Tony’s chest. Her shields were down and mask was gone. “I know I’m here because you own me and my debt. Sometimes I feel that way, but other times you make me feel special”—she nuzzled into his warm embrace. Her words slowed as fatigue prevailed—“I don’t know any more if you’re using me or if you care about me, but I know what I hope.”