Courage isn't having the strength to go on - it is going on when you don't have strength.

—Napoleon Bonaparte

Chapter 43

Somewhere, Claire heard knocking, was it real, or was it in her dream? She tried to analyze, but she couldn’t; she couldn’t distance herself from the warmth and pleasure cocooning her body. She floated on the softest sheets, upon a bed of perfect firmness. Somewhere between sleep and awake, the knocking stopped, replaced by her name.

“Claire – Claire, you need to wake. We’re supposed to be to Tim and Sue’s in an hour.” Tony spoke from the moment he entered the suite. He didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, although that impression was paramount in his mind. She looked so peaceful, sleeping on this bed, in this suite. With all his might, Tony wanted to reconnect the electronic lock and keep Claire there forever.

He couldn’t succumb to his thoughts. If Claire were ever to be his, she needed to want to be here. If he were to stop her stupid articles from appearing, he needed to tread lightly. The fact she was here was, in itself, a miracle. Approaching the bed, her serene expression transfixed him. Hoping not to startle her, he spoke louder, “Claire? Claire?” Partially out of necessity; but, more out of desire, Tony touched her exposed skin, “Claire?”

She began to stir. His fingers caressed the light blue satin bra straps, visible above the blankets on her exposed shoulders. The allure of moving the covers and discovering the remainder of her attire was almost irresistible. Tony wondered if she could possibly be wearing matching light blue panties.

Her blissful nap slipped away. Slowly she opened her eyes to his voice. Suddenly, they opened wide. Claire abruptly sat, pulling the blankets around her body. “Tony!” Claire pulled the covers higher, “what are you doing in here? You promised.”

He chuckled at her modesty, “I promised a lock. The door wasn’t locked. I knocked, multiple times. You must have been very tired.”

Her panic diminished at his casual tone, “I think I was. I have that jittery just awakened feeling.” She laid her head back onto the pillow, and her long chestnut hair fell in waves around her face. The late afternoon sunlight shimmered off of her emerald eyes. “What time is it?”

“Six thirty and we need to be to Tim and Sue’s in an hour.” Tony remained motionless, grinning at Claire.

“Well, if you’re going to stand there, go find me a robe so I can get ready.”

He didn’t speak but walked slowly into the dressing room. Claire’s eyebrows rose and lips pursed into a straight line, when he emerged holding a black silk transparent negligee cover. The smirk on his face revealed his attempt at humor. Her only response was a slow shake of her head. With a feigned pout he reentered the dressing room and returned again with a long pink cashmere robe.

“That’s better. Now if you don’t mind?”

Tony gallantly turned away as Claire covered herself with the robe. “Don’t you think this is a bit ridiculous?” He asked. “We were married.”

“No, I don’t,” she answered. After securing the robe Claire said, “You may turn around now.” When he did, she couldn’t help notice the twinkle in his soft suede eyes.

 “I thought we could talk about tonight.”

She looked up to his still amused expression. “Not now. I need to get ready. We can talk in the car. If you leave me alone, I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

Mockingly, he bowed, blew her a kiss, and left the room. Instinctively, she listened to the door close. Upon hearing the normal sounds associated with the mechanisms of a latching door knob, Claire walked into the attached bathroom. It was exactly the same: white tile, chrome fixtures, and glass shower. The only change was the color of the towels, now copper, matching the walls in the bedroom.

Thirty minutes hour later, Claire descended the grand staircase to see Tony casually leaning against one of the grand doors, with his hands in the pockets of his navy slacks. She noticed his white “v” neck shirt and unbuttoned sports coat. Her choice of slacks and blouse would blend perfectly.

Claire tried to ignore his non-wavering gaze as she made her way to the foyer. Once her heeled sandals touched the marble floor he straightened and said, “You look amazing – as usual. Is that an outfit you brought or one from the closet?”

“One I brought. The closet seems silly. I’m leaving in three days.”

“You refused to take a credit card to shop. So I hired someone to shop for you. You may decide to wear some of those clothes to our public functions.”

Claire shook her head as she stopped before him. “Tony, I’m not falling into that same trap. I don’t want the media accusing me of reconciling with you for your money.”

“Tonight there won’t be media, just friends.”

Claire exhaled, and her shoulders slumped.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“Are you sure they want me there? I would rather face the media than your friends considering what they think I did.” That was another of Claire’s prepared speeches. She’d thought about saying after what you made it look like I did or after what you did, but she believed she’d found the best wording.

Tony grasped her hand. “I promise. I’ve spoken to everyone, most in person. Mary Ann and Eli I spoke to on the phone.”

“And they ...”

“And they understand. I was distraught, but we are reconciling.”

Claire closed her eyes. Why was she forced to face these people as the villain? Wasn’t she the victim, the heroine? Exhaling, she allowed Tony to lead her through the grand doors, down the steps, to the bricks below. Waiting for them on the circular drive was a Lexus LFA. The silver car reminded Claire of the Batmobile. Tony opened the passenger door and she eased herself into the low seat. The red and black interior included a very impressive dashboard. As Tony settled himself into the driver’s seat, his broad smile and shimmering eyes held her gaze. Without a doubt, Tony loved his cars. She got the distinct impression this vehicle could go very fast.

“This is a very nice car. Would you mind not going too fast?”

“It can do zero to sixty in three point six seconds.”

“I believe you. Do you remember my reaction to the bacon the other day?”

Tony frowned, “Yes, are you still not well?”

“I‘m not back to myself.”

He scowled, “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

Claire looked through the windshield as Tony put the Batmobile in drive and eased down the driveway. “I have an appointment in a few weeks.” That was true. She did. It was her four week obstetrical visit. According to Dr. Sizemore, she would be seen every four weeks until week twenty eight. Then the appointments would be every two weeks, eventually every week. Of course, she didn’t say any of that to Tony. Instead she prayed her stomach would not revolt against the low riding Batmobile.

As they passed the impressive double gates, thoughts of that fateful day and her drive away from this place, infiltrated her mind. She stared at the blue skies, as the road before them wound and twisted though fields and forests. Claire closed her eyes and laid her head against the headrest. They would be there soon. Please let me keep Catherine’s snack down. She silently prayed.

Tony turned down the radio. As the volume decreased so did his smile. It was barely visible when he said, “We need to discuss tonight and your behavior.”

Claire opened her eyes and peered to her left. She wasn’t alone she told herself. (Maybe her greatest ally came in a pawn or bishop, but nonetheless, she had allies!). “Tony, I wouldn’t be here, of my own free will, if I didn’t completely comprehend my behavior. Don’t patronize me. I’ve done this dance before.”