The scent of autumn filled the air, thick, poignant, fresh, and spicy. After yesterday’s wind and rain the air was still, the remaining leaves didn’t rustle, and the lake was calm. The water resembled a giant mirror. The colorful trees on the shoreline reflected on the water. Claire wished she had a camera. The simplistic beauty made a picture-perfect postcard.
The sounds of nature were everywhere: bees or yellow jackets buzzed in the autumn sunshine, birds sang, and forest rodents scurried through the fallen leaves. She watched as ducks swam on the beautiful smooth lake, leaving wakes as their trail. Some floated near the shore, occasionally dipping their heads under the water, filling their stomachs for their flight south. September was almost half done, she would head south too if she could. Hopefully she would be going to Atlanta before long.
When Claire dressed, she put on jeans, a workout T-shirt, and a jacket. Now that the sun glowed high and strong, the warmth allowed her to remove the jacket. By late afternoon she even took off her boots, rolled up her jeans, and waded into the water. Part of her understood the possibility that she may not make it back to the lake before winter. She wanted to experience as much of it as she could. Of course, she hoped that her debt would be paid soon. More realistically she recognized that her duties now included travel. If she were expected to accompany Tony out of town, she wouldn’t be home to explore.
The cold water made her feet tingle. She watched her brightly polished toes as she stepped on pebbles and her toes squished in the underwater terra. When she stood still the minnows swarmed, investigating the bright red toenails. Some even nibbled at her toes, it tickled.
Claire ate her lunch midafternoon, but her stomach told her she needed dinner soon. Finding some coffee in the thermos, no longer warm, she pretended it was a frappuccino without the crushed ice. It helped to fill the void until she reached the promise of Catherine’s dinner.
The daylight hours were decreasing and before she knew it the sky began to redden. Glancing at her watch, it was after seven; she wondered where the day had gone as the most beautiful scene unfolded before her eyes. Sitting on the shore she watched the sky as the sun settled over the lake. She couldn’t make herself get up and go back to the house as the lovely postcard picture transformed into a stunning explosion of crimson. The setting sun caused the few cumuliform clouds to change from white to gray to pink, and then to a vibrant red. The radiance beamed onto the leaves, altering their color. The scene continued to improve in brilliance. The beauty continued to grow. Claire sat patiently and watched with a new sense of contentment.
Once the sun reached the line of trees at the far end of the lake, the darkness quickly extended over the land. Claire remembered Catherine, she would be worried. The idea of walking back in the dark woods should have frightened her, but it didn’t. She knew her way back. In the daylight it took her an hour and forty-five minutes to reach the house or an hour to reach the clearing.
When she stepped into the clearing the illumination from the moon allowed her to see her watch, eight thirty. She wasn’t making bad time but it would be almost nine-thirty before she reached home. The air had cooled but still tasted fresh and clean, she inhaled and set off as fast as she could. Direction wasn’t the issue, it was safety. The ground not only had limbs and roots as obstacles, but the rain had left muddy areas that made her slip. One time her left foot slid making her right knee muddy.
When she stepped into the backyard her eyes focused on her watch, it was nine thirty-five. The last leg of her trip took longer than normal. Her stomach growled for dinner, but her first priority was removing the muddy boots, jeans, and taking a shower or a nice bath. She left the boots on the back stoop.
The carpeted floor of the southeast corridor felt soft under her feet compared to the hiking boots. It also quieted her steps. As she opened the door to her suite, her thoughts ran between removing her muddy jeans and a warm shower. Although the room was dark, navigation was easy. She even considered leaving the light off. Then she remembered Catherine. Turning on the light would let her know she’d returned. As she reached for the light switch she sensed his presence. Before she could speak an arm come down over her neck and her head turned sharply upward as her ponytail was pulled back. It all happened so fast, she gasped.
His fierce voice in the darkness was unmistakable, “Where the fuck have you been?”
She tried to respond but the arm around her neck restricted her air intake. She couldn’t breathe, much less speak. He let go of her momentarily while he spun her around. Now she faced him. His hands gripped her shoulders with a force she never experienced. His warm breath hit her face with each word. “I asked you a question. Where the fuck have you been?”
She coughed at the sudden intake of oxygen and tried to respond, “Tony, I didn’t think you were coming home until tomorrow.”
That wasn’t an answer to his question. Although the lights were still off, her eyes adjusted quickly as the bright moonlight streamed through the unblocked windows. With diminished light, distinguishing color is difficult, but Claire didn’t need to see color to know his eyes contained none. He released the grip on her shoulder with his right hand and struck her. His left hand stopped her from falling. He supported her only to confront her again.
“I have asked you a question twice. I will not ask again.” And his hand contacted her cheek again, harder this time.
“Tony, please stop.” She gasped for breath as her temple and cheek stung. “I was hiking in the woods.”
He let go of her shoulders, shoving her onto the sofa. He followed her and loomed over her body as she lay against the cushions. “Do you expect me to believe you were in the woods until this time of night?”
She tried to explain, “I was in the woods. The sun was setting. It was so beautiful.” Her words came in gasps.
Finally, he yelled, “Shut the fuck up! You were out there because you knew I was coming home and you didn’t want to face me after what you did.”
Claire’s mind spun. She didn’t know what she had done. “I don’t know what you mean. You told me you were coming home on Saturday, this is still Friday. I haven’t done anything.”
Tony slapped her again and called her a liar. Then he walked over to the light switch and turned it on. Claire watched him. His suit coat was gone and his shirt and slacks looked wrinkled. His chest visibly expanded and contracted with labored breaths and his eyes were not only black but violent. In the past he’d been upset, but in control. Tonight his self-control was replaced with rage. She knew he’d passed some invisible threshold. Claire just didn’t know why, but the reason scared the hell out of her. He walked to her dining table and picked up some papers.
“Then tell me, tell me how this is a misunderstanding.” He shook the pages in his hand while his words came too close together. “I jumped to conclusions last time. Tell me how I am doing that now.”
Claire feared talking, but she did. “Tony, I am sorry. I really don’t know what you are talking about.” He threw the pages at her, they scattered on the floor near her feet. When he didn’t move, she bent down to pick them up. Her vision now blurry from tears, she tried desperately to blink and focus on the pages.
They were typed, from the Internet. The last two pages contained pictures: pictures of the two of them at the symphony, at some event she couldn’t distinguish, in New York, and walking down the street in Chicago, arm in arm. Then there were pictures of Claire, in college, with friends and one of her and Meredith sitting at a table talking.
The breath in her chest suddenly dissipated. Her eyes focused on the words: “Questions Answered—the Mystery Woman in Anthony Rawlings’s Life Agrees to a One on One Interview.”
Claire’s eyes grew wide and immediately overflowed with a flood of tears. She couldn’t believe what she read. Oh my god! She didn’t agree to an interview. She wouldn’t do that!
“Tony, oh my god, I did not agree to an interview.”
“So you are telling me that the picture of you talking to this woman is a print shop fabrication and this is a colossal misunderstanding?” He pointed to the picture as he stood over Claire. His closeness filled her with dread. It was her talking to Meredith, but it wasn’t an interview.