Consequences(207)

Before they left the conference hall, Courtney spoke ecstatically about Claire’s ability. “This turned out so well! I just can’t believe the final figures. Honey, together we are going to raise money for every organization west of the Mississippi.”

Although she felt uneasy regarding her future philanthropic activities, Claire hugged her friend and wore her smile. “Oh goodness, we’ll have to see.”

“Well, enjoy this success for a little while, because I have plans!” Courtney’s enthusiasm was contagious. Claire smiled and nodded her head.

Mrs. Rawlings’ more recent hostess duties aided her efforts. She shrewdly mentioned the auction, both for donations and possible attendance, whenever possible. She found it interesting how Tony’s business associates were willing to participate in one or both when personally approached. The fact that they were in her home, eating her food, and receiving her attention didn’t hinder her efforts. The current president of the Red Cross of the Greater Quad Cities thanked Mrs. Rawlings and Mrs. Simmons profusely.

Many of Tony’s associates, from out of town, attended the event. Claire hadn’t realized when she invited them that this had an additional impact on the Quad Cities. These important people needed places to stay and food to eat while in Bettendorf. According to Courtney, the media estimated their event reaped over a quarter of a million dollars windfall to the Quad Cities. Claire hadn’t seen the coverage. She didn’t like television, and any other form of communication was still forbidden.

As a matter of fact, since the Chicago Symposium, Claire had lost many of her newfound freedoms. She still saw e-mails, but only after responses had been sent. No longer a freedom—they were merely a blatant illustration of what was now prohibited.

During the final preparations of the auction, it was undeniable that Claire and Courtney needed to communicate and see each other; however, contact and endeavors with others had dramatically decreased. Tony decided Claire needed time to decide what was really important to her.


The night in Chicago was reminiscent of her first encounters at the estate. Tony was excessively domineering, controlling, and demanding. Even the sadistic, cruel sexual tendencies, from before her accident, reappeared. Once back at the apartment, Claire tried to reason with him. “Please think about what you’re doing.” It was as if his black eyes couldn’t register her voice. She pleaded, “Tony, remember your promise; I’m your wife. Think about what you’re asking me to do.”

Unaffected, his demands continued, “You are my wife; however, I’m not asking.”

When she awoke the next morning, feeling the too familiar aches from a year before, she dreaded his presence. Lying silently, she listened for his breathing. Relieved, she heard the sound of his shower in the adjoining room. Slowly, she sat up and thought about her options. Up until seeing Simon, things were progressing well. Even in Italy when she broke his rule, he responded with kindness—not cruelty—yet on this morning as she listened to the running water, Claire debated leaving him—the apartment—everything.


She didn’t know how. Where could she possibly go, where he couldn’t find her? She fell back against the soft pillows and allowed herself a few tears. Momentarily, she had difficulty filling her lungs with a sufficient amount of air and remembered her nightmares. This wasn’t a dream or a nightmare—it was her reality. Although she didn’t want to see or talk to him, she recognized the helplessness surging through her veins. Her only way forward was through the man in the next room. Slowly, she eased back the blankets, squared her shoulders, and walked toward the mirror. The steely determination propelling her feet didn’t come from courage—more from a sense of powerless necessity. The reflection before her had been worse—it’d been much worse—yet seeing the red and blue markings made her stomach twist. She reached for her robe and covered the evidence.