realize the consequence of their napkin agreement.
As Claire lay on the sofa recalling the events that led her to this place and this situation, she couldn’t recall traveling. She remembered a car but couldn’t recall any other part of this house. She couldn’t remember any other memories of Atlanta. That time, 1:15 a.m. was her last conscious memory of her life.
From the other windows near the bed, she could see only trees. She must be at the end of the dwelling because she couldn’t see more of the house. Her windows were far from the ground. Even if they opened, she would break something from this height. Day after day, the sky would lighten to shades of gray and then darken too soon, keeping track of the days became difficult.
Wondering where she was, Claire told herself that when Catherine returned she would ask about their location. Catherine didn’t come, the young non-English speaking man did. Day after day, no one came to talk to her. The food came and the room was cleaned. Clothes were miraculously washed and returned to her closet or drawers, but no person was ever seen. She was alone. The isolation was hell. It may not leave physical markings, but it was a neater form of Anthony’s abuse.
Claire was never a TV watcher, and the TV in her suite didn’t receive many stations. However, she did check the news each morning to learn what day it was. They had begun to blend. On April 2, she finally heard a repeated knock at the door.
The past thirteen days hadn’t been a total loss. After two or three, Claire realized the weather channel would do local weather. The first time she sat to watch, she was stunned. The midnight announcer, Shelby, graduated from Valparaiso the year before her. Claire watched in disbelief. How could Shelby be on the Weather Channel and she be held prisoner in a house in Iowa? The local weather came from Iowa City, Iowa.
She discovered her windows faced southeast. The sun shone on a few of the thirteen days of her seclusion. The hours of sunshine grew in length by minutes each day, but it still looked cold. With the insulated windows and warm fireplace, Claire’s only knowledge of outdoor temperature remained Shelby and her coanchors.
As a means of escape, Claire turned to reading. The built-in bookcases were filled with current bestsellers. There were series and individual books. She loved to read when she was a child, but life had become too busy. That didn’t seem to be a problem any longer.
She also discovered a small refrigerator that was always stocked with water and fruit. No one ever asked what she wanted to eat. Truly she wasn’t hungry considering she didn’t do anything to build an appetite. She showered, dressed, and primped a little. The rebellion seemed meaningless with no one to rebel against. One sign of progress, the bruises faded from red, to blue, to purple, to green, and now a very indistinct yellow.
The knock came again. Food usually entered after the first knock, this person was waiting for an invitation. She didn’t think it was Anthony, he didn’t knock. Could it be Catherine? Slowly, Claire approached the door.
“Yes? Who’s there?” The anticipation of actually hearing a voice respond to her was stimulating.
Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to burning metal. It strengthens, tempers, intensifies, but never destroys it.
—Unknown
Chapter 5
“Ms. Claire, may I come in?”
Claire’s heart leaped. The woman she barely knew was the one person Claire prayed would come to her each of the last thirteen days. Excited to use her voice again, she said, “Yes, Catherine, please come in.” It wasn’t as though Claire could open the door from her side.
Claire heard the beep. Catherine opened the door and smiled sadly at Claire. Claire wanted to hug her, but something in Catherine’s eyes said, “No, not now. I was not able to come up here before.” It was as if she spoke, yet her lips never moved.
“Ms. Claire, you seem . . . well rested. I have a message for you.” Claire nodded, anticipating the message from Anthony. “Mr. Rawlings will be coming to see you tonight. He will be late in the city. He said to expect him between nine and ten.”
Claire looked at the clock near the bed. It was only 4:35 p.m. “Okay.” She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t exactly refuse his entering. He didn’t ask, only proclaimed. “Will we be dining?”