Consequences(63)

There was a knock on her door. Claire called for the person to come in.

Catherine’s expression matched the concern in her voice, “Ms. Claire, could you please explain to me what Cindy is asking?”

Claire told Catherine about her plans to explore, how she didn’t want to return for lunch, and she knew Catherine wouldn’t want her to skip a meal. Therefore, she would need a packed lunch and some water bottles.

Catherine seemed apprehensive. “I’m sorry, but what if you didn’t come back?”

Although that sounded wonderful, Claire was surprised by Catherine’s concern. “Catherine, I have no intention of that. First, I wouldn’t do that to you. I can only imagine Mr. Rawlings’s reaction if I didn’t return, and second, his reaction. I can truthfully say—if I left—I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life”—which, she didn’t say audibly, she believed deep in her soul, might not be very long—“I just want to explore and be outside, away from everything. Mr. Rawlings has given me permission to go into the woods. I’ve done it before. I just want to be out longer, without concern for curfews. Besides, we both know this conversation is being recorded. I promise to return. If I don’t, he’ll see I lied. You just believed me.” Claire reached for Catherine’s hand. “I promise I’ll be back.”

There was a spark in Claire’s green eyes—the same eyes which, only yesterday, were red, swollen, and lifeless—Catherine told Claire she would have her lunch and water packed in a few minutes, but asked that she be back by 6:00 PM for dinner. Claire promised she would. As soon as Catherine left the room, Claire went to the dressing table and found her watch. She didn’t want to disappoint her.

That morning, Claire abandoned her strategy of dissecting the woods. She remembered the large clearing with the flowers and headed in that direction. In the past, she only went as far as the clearing, today she planned to go beyond it. She found the clearing right where she thought it would be. The heat of the summer transformed the green grass into long brown straw, only the weeds were green. Claire didn’t mind, the weeds had pretty, colorful flowers. Unlike Tony’s flowers, which were sentenced to his yard, gardens, or clay pots, these flowers grew free wherever they wanted. Furthermore, weeds were survivors. When all else died, the weeds remained. Yes, Claire liked weeds.

She glanced at her watch. She’d reached the clearing by 10:00 AM.

When she left the house there was a slight chill, so she brought a sweatshirt. With steadily increasing temperatures, now it’s only purpose was to sit upon. She laid it out in the middle of the clearing and sat. A faint breeze blew her hair and caused the leaves of the trees to rustle. Even though it was only the beginning of August, due to the recent dryness, the leaves were beginning to change.

That bothered her. She moved—or was brought—to Iowa in March. At that time, the leaves hadn’t formed, and now they were beginning to change. Time slipped away from her, and she couldn’t hold on. It made her think of a soap opera her mother used to watch. The opening said something like, “Sands through the hour glass…”

She laid her head on the hard ground and gazed at the open sky. There were a few white fluffy clouds. The expanse of the sky glowed blue and clear. The longer she lay immobile, the more she blended into the surroundings. First, she noticed the butterflies which fluttered just above the grass. Then, she saw the chipmunks. One would run around a tree, the next would run up the tree, chasing and being chased. Eventually, she sat up, opened one of her water bottles, and continued to sit and contemplate.