Claire had been to her lake. That’s where she was—while he was in her suite. She was there, among the flowers and water and beach and trees and all of the things she talked about. She wasn’t plotting to leave him. She wasn’t basking in some sense of betrayal. No, she was finding solace like only she could. She’d tried to tell him, tried to explain—and what had he done?
His stomach heaved again and again. It was as if his body were trying to expel a part of himself—a part that was deep inside and needed to be gone, a part that Claire didn’t deserve.
With a pounding in his temples like he’d never before known, Tony laid his head on the cool porcelain and closed his eyes. Time passed—he didn’t know much, but eventually voices could be heard from beyond his cloud. Painstakingly, he rose and walked to Claire’s shower. Turning on the water, he disrobed. As the steam filled the bathroom, he stepped under the scalding spray. Liquid fire assaulted his skin. He didn’t turn down the temperature. No, Tony wanted the pain—he needed it, he deserved it. When his body adapted, he turned the temperature up. It wasn’t until he heard the knock at the door that he even considered the amount of time he’d stood helplessly accepting the spray’s punishment.
Stepping from the glass enclosure, he realized he’d not considered fresh clothes. It was then he heard the knock again accompanied by a voice. “Anton, I brought you some clothes. Dr. Leonard went downstairs to eat breakfast. If you’re done with your shower, let me give these to you and you can go down and join him. He’s finished his most recent examination.”
Tony leaned his head against the wall and exhaled. Thank God he had Catherine. He’d never felt so helpless. Maybe that was how she’d felt at one time; he didn’t know. He just knew that if it were not for her, he’d be in a jail cell, or out on bond. Either way, she was his rock and he was so thankful they’d supported one another.
When he opened the door slightly, he met Catherine’s gaze. “Thank you,” was all he could manage.
She didn’t respond, other than to nod. It was enough. He couldn’t have taken her gloating nor her telling him that he’d let the whole thing with Claire get out of hand. He knew that. He needed Catherine’s support, and seeing her steady steel expression, that was exactly what she offered.
Wiping the steam from Claire’s mirror, Tony’s reflection peered back at him. The unfamiliar image with reddened skin, cheeks and chin covered by a day’s beard growth, and tired eyes, wasn’t what taunted him. It was the tremendous invisible weight crushing his shoulders. The anxiety surrounding Claire’s recovery was more than psychological. It was physical, making standing difficult as his knees flexed. For a moment, Tony laid his head on the vanity and debated if he could go on. Then he remembered Claire’s fight—the fire he longed to see. The fire he knew was somewhere inside of her. If she could fight to get through this—no, as she fought to get through this—so would he. She needed him to be strong, needed him to be there for her—to help her. He wouldn’t let her down, not again. After a few minutes, Tony was down in the dining room, drinking a much-needed cup of coffee, and listening to Dr. Leonard.
Over the next days, Dr. Leonard moved onto the estate. Catherine gave him a bedroom near Claire’s, which served as his makeshift office. He told most of his staff that he’d taken an unexpected leave to look after an ailing family member, and another private practitioner graciously agreed to see his patients. Only one member of his staff was enlightened to his true endeavor. She was his trusted nurse and assistant. Both medical professionals agreed to total confidentiality; however, Dr. Leonard maintained his legal responsibilities. Although he didn’t come out and say it, Tony knew exactly what he meant: if he could prove that Claire had been harmed by someone on the estate, he would report it.
Dr. Leonard’s nurse didn’t stay at the estate, but she came and went with some frequency, bringing Dr. Leonard whatever he wanted from his office or from the hospital. She also assisted him with much of Claire’s care. She changed IV bags, gave medication, moved Claire so that she didn’t stay in one position too long, gave her bed baths, and changed her gown. At first, Dr. Leonard insisted on a hospital gown: it was easier access for his examinations, but Tony hated the sight of it. He immediately sent for nightgowns that buttoned up the front with long sleeves. Dr. Leonard could still have access for his exams, but Claire didn’t look as much like a patient.
Even without the MRI, the doctor concluded that Claire’s initial unconsciousness was due to a blow to her head. There was no way of knowing the cause of that blow, only that evidence suggested that it had occurred. He immediately put her on additional medication to reduce swelling of her brain. Her medication also included something to keep her sedated. The doctor explained that it was for the best.
Day after day, either Tony or Catherine sat by her side. They only left the room when Dr. Leonard or his nurse insisted. Even then, it was only for a short duration. The doctor couldn’t confirm that Claire could hear the world around her; nevertheless, Tony talked as much as he could. Everything felt wrong. Usually the suite was filled with the sound of Claire’s voice, and Tony found the silence deafening. Often he’d ask her to wake. “Claire, talk to us. Open your eyes.” Sometimes he’d read—usually things related to Rawlings Industries—but he continued to speak. The only time Tony allowed the blanket of quiet to cover the room was at night. He no longer slept with his head on her bed; instead, he had a large recliner brought to her bedside and slept there.
For over a week, Tony relinquished full control of Rawlings Industries to his vice president, Tim. Tony asked Patricia to not contact him, unless it was a dire emergency. He received emails, and those, too, he’d read aloud. That was how he’d learned that the New York negotiations had finally resulted in a deal. Truthfully, he wasn’t happy. It was that deal that took him out of Chicago; it was that deal that left Claire alone. It was that deal that Tony held responsible for the condition of the woman before him. Despite years of work and hundreds of thousands of dollars, Tony emailed Tim and told him to sell off the investment and securities firm and to do it as soon as possible. He didn’t care what happened to the damn employees, their pensions, their benefits, or anything else. Anthony Rawlings wanted the damn firm out from under the Rawlings umbrella.
As time passed, Claire’s bruises began to fade. Tony hoped and prayed that if the swelling on the outside was decreasing, that meant that the swelling on the inside was too. Claire’s IV now contained some kind of nutritional supplement. In essence, the nurse explained, Claire was being fed from the tube in her arm, and Tony hated it. Claire wasn’t that big to begin with; yet each day she seemed to shrink behind the nightgown and blankets. Multiple times a day he’d move her arms and legs as the nurse taught him to do. Each time he lifted her limbs, they felt lighter in his grasp. It was also during those times that he saw her otherwise covered bruises. The areas that used to be red first faded to blue/purple, and were turning green and yellow. Each time he was faced with these markings, Tony made himself see beyond the green discolorations. The only green he wanted to see was behind her lids.
Although, Dr. Leonard warned that she might not ever wake, Tony refused to believe that. Claire’s eyes would open and when they did, she’d be coherent. The possible traumatic brain injury that the nurse discussed was nonsense. Claire was too strong for that.