Authors: Aleatha Romig
Claire hugged the small bag. All of her
possessions in the entire world were contained within the small
nylon bag. Along with the items from her cell, Claire’s bag held
the blue cashmere sweater and the jewelry she’d been wearing upon
her arrest. At twenty-nine, it seemed like such a small
accumulation. “I do. I didn’t realize the identification card would
work outside of prison.”
As Jane turned the Toyota south onto highway
235, she inhaled deeply and breached the uncomfortable subject.
“Claire, I need to tell you something. The petition for your pardon
wasn’t my idea.”
The trance holding Claire Nichols' thoughts
captive released its hold; she zeroed in upon her savior, the
person who’d freed her from a life of solitude. However, after so
much time alone, conversation was difficult. Claire tried
desperately to fill the silences. If one person spoke, then it was
time for the next. Very easy, she could do it. “What do you
mean?”
Jane told Claire about the anonymous letter,
the almost complete petition for pardon, and the certified
cashier's check. She didn’t mention her fear as she entered the
penitentiary. She waited to see if it was shared.
Claire asked, “Who would spend $100,000 for
my release?”
“
I don’t know.”
Claire observed the expression, body
language, and tone of the woman next to her. It had been a while,
but she believed Jane spoke truthfully. Her attorney didn’t know
who planted the seed for her emancipation.
Jane continued, “I can tell you, initially,
I believed whoever this was, they wanted you released without
associating their name. I believed they were protecting themselves
from your ex-husband.”
Claire ingested her words, it made sense.
She reasoned, if Tony knew someone helped in her release, who knows
what he might do. Then she registered every word, “Initially? Jane,
what do you mean initially?”
As Jane answered, her Toyota headed south
toward the Des Moines International Airport. “I have to admit, I’ve
had another thought.” Claire didn’t speak, but listened and
watched. Jane continued, “What if the petition, letter, and money
came from an unlikely source, someone to whom $100,000 was
nothing?”
Claire’s emerald eyes opened wider. The
elation which had filled her lungs evaporated. No longer
involuntary, breathing required thought. She stammered, “You think
it was Tony?” Claire fought an onset of nausea, “Why would he do
that?”
“
I really don’t know. I
just know the best thing is to get you out of Iowa especially
before the press frenzy begins.”
Claire hugged her belongings close to her
thumping chest. As she remembered the unrelenting press and more
importantly her ex-husband, old fears made her heart to race.
Looking again at Jane, Claire noticed Jane’s eyes darting between
the landscape ahead and the one behind in the rearview mirror. What
if Tony or someone else were following her? Claire replied, “Yes,
please, let’s do that.”
The American Airlines’ agent at the counter
didn’t question Claire’s Iowa state issued identification. Within
minutes she handed Claire her boarding pass -- a nonstop first
class ticket to San Francisco, departing in ninety minutes.
Each step toward the concourse removed a
little of Claire’s heaviness. Although the anxiety and apprehension
she’d experienced under Tony’s rule knocked at the door of Claire’s
heart and soul, she tried desperately to suppress those fears. Her
counsel’s attention and kindness helped to alleviate the burden.
Claire truly didn’t have time to process her sudden freedom.
Turning toward Jane, she inquired, “Tell me again about the pardon.
Do I need to check in with anyone?”
Jane explained, “Everything associated with
the charge of attempted murder is now gone. The arrest, plea,
incarceration… it’s all gone. Your record will appear as though it
never occurred.” She emphasized, “Claire, the last fourteen months
never happened.”
“
Thirty-six.” Claire
corrected.
Jane looked into her client’s eyes. She saw
the victim’s eyes of over a year ago, not the eyes of an attempted
murderer. The sadness combined with confusion told Jane, release
wouldn’t be that simple. Removing Claire from the walls of Iowa’s
Correctional Institution for Women was easier than removing the
past thirty-six months from her memories. There was nothing Jane
could say. Getting Claire safely out of Iowa was her only goal.
“Please take care of yourself.” Jane said as she pulled an envelope
and a card out of her purse. “Here is my card with my cell and
office number as well as email. If I can be of any assistance,
please don’t hesitate to contact me. And in this envelope are a few
things I believe should belong to you.”
Claire took the items from
her attorney and slowly opened the envelope. Staring back at her
was fifty dollars in ten dollar bills and a cashier’s check made
out to
cash
for
$100,000. “No, Jane. I can’t accept this. This is for you. It’s
your payment for helping me.”
“
The cash will help with
incidentals until you reach your friend. And, as for the check,
it’s a ridiculous amount of money for a few hours’ work. You get
settled. When you can, send me an appropriate payment for my
services. Consider it seed money to start your new
life.”
“
But we don’t know who
it’s from.”
“
No, we don’t. If perhaps
it’s from whom we suspect, wouldn’t he be happy to learn it went to
you?”
Slowly Claire’s lips turned upward; she
shook her head. “No. No, he wouldn’t.” Claire scanned the mingling
crowd for a familiar face. Exhaling with relief at the sea of
strangers, Claire continued, “And for that reason, I accept.” The
two women embraced. “Thank you, Jane, for everything.”
Claire straightened her shoulders, and
turned toward the gate. It’d been sometime since she’d flown
commercial, but she knew Jane wasn’t allowed past security without
a boarding pass. Thankfully, no one else would be either.
Jane watched as Claire passed the TSA agents
and disappeared into the crowd of bodies. With an audible sigh,
Jane thanked God no one recognized her client, and the reporters
hadn't been notified. She had no idea how long it would take
interested parties to learn of Claire’s release and flight. However
long, Jane hoped it was long enough.
Claire Nichols sat in a row of connected
black vinyl chairs, holding all of her worldly possessions and
soaking in the scene around her. There were people talking,
reading, and even sleeping. Periodically the dim background noise
shattered with announcements over the PA system. They told of
flights boarding and others delayed. No one noticed her. No one
cared that only four hours earlier she’d been a prisoner of the
state of Iowa. The buzzing in Claire’s brain began to dull, and her
pulse steadied. In another thirty-five minutes she’d be boarding a
plane. Claire hoped she wouldn't hear an announcement saying her
flight was delayed. She may not remember her initial arrival to
Iowa, but she was savoring her final exit. Returning was not on her
agenda.
Her inner monologue was interrupted by the
sound of her name, “Ms. Nichols?” A large security officer bent
down to speak quietly near Claire’s ear.
Startled by the man’s closeness and words,
she managed a response, “Yes? I’m Claire Nichols.”
“
I need you to come with
me, please.”
Oh God,
no
! She thought.
Please let me get on this plane.
Involuntarily, moisture returned to Claire’s eyes as the
shrill sound of alarms reverberated within her head. Trying to
speak steadily over the deafening panic, only she could hear, she
uttered, “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I can do that. I can’t miss my
flight.”
“
Ms. Nichols, if you will
please come to my office, I’ll explain everything.”
Claire gripped her bag and contemplated her
next move. She shouldn't have left Jane, not yet. She had Jane’s
card; she could call her. Her voice and tone exposed her
apprehension, “I really don’t want to go with you.” People began to
stare.
Speaking in a hushed whisper, “Ms. Nichols,
your ticket has been cancelled.” She shook her head in protest.
“It’s all right.” Moving his lips near her ear, as to not be
overheard, “Please settle down, your ticket was cancelled, because
there’s a private plane coming for you.”
The security officer’s voice came through a
long dark tunnel. The tunnel closed. Only blackness…
Although the world is full
of suffering,
it is full also of the overcoming of it.
– Helen Keller
Claire woke with a start, her eyes opened
wide. The view was no different than from behind her closed lids --
darkness. Utilizing her senses she felt the softness of the sheets
and luxurious pillows, smelled the faint aroma of lilacs, and heard
only quiet. Her mind tried to replay the past twenty-four hours.
There was too much to sort. Nevertheless, she knew without a doubt,
this wasn’t her cell.
Trying desperately for visual confirmation
she searched the penetrating darkness for light. Only a few feet in
the distance, she located the illuminated display of a digital
clock: 3:57 AM. For the past nine months she awakened every morning
at 6 AM. Slowly her mind churned, she wasn’t on the twin mattress,
not in her cell, and most importantly, no longer in Iowa. She was
in California. The two hour time difference explained her early
waking. It was almost six in Iowa.
Claire tried to close her eyes and enjoy the
new comfortable surroundings, yet her mind swirled uncontrollably
with a whirlwind of thoughts. Finally, she gave up and got out of
bed. Although she wanted to go to the kitchen, she didn’t want to
wake Amber, not after everything she’d done. Thinking about her new
friend, a smile spread across Claire’s face. Truly, until
yesterday, she and Amber had only met once face-to-face.
Wearing her new roommate’s t-shirt and
shorts; Claire made her way to the adjoining bath. Pausing at the
door frame, she pushed the light switch and viewed the room where
she’d slept. Compared to her prison cell, the room was palatial,
containing all the natural furnishings of a bedroom. The queen
sized bed had a beautiful headboard covered in ivory fabric.
Matching material graced taught boxed valances covering the top of
each window. Long vertical wooden blinds kept the room dark, while
sleek, modern bedside stands, dressers, and a desk lined the walls.
The light golden hue of the blinds contrasted beautifully with the
darker wood slats covering the floor. Strategically placed beige
shag rugs added warmth and undoubtedly muffling sound.
Turning to the tile covered bathroom Claire
smiled at the sink. It looked like a green glass bowl sitting upon
a stand. Above the sink was a large framed mirror flanked on each
side by lighted sconces. Claire paused, staring at her reflection.
It looked different. Her eyes glistened with the realization -- it
was the smile! It had been so long since she truly felt like
smiling.
Claire assessed herself, she didn’t look as
old as she felt. Although, the past three years had psychologically
aged her beyond the chronological timetable, the more recent lack
of sunshine undoubtedly benefited her skin. She remembered a time
when she radiated with a bronze sun-kissed glow. She also
remembered her hair lighter, both from the sun and highlights.
Today her pale china complexion was surrounded by chestnut waves as
her hair hung upon her back. It hadn’t been trimmed or cut in over
a year.
Tip-toeing in stocking feet, Claire silently
made her way into the hall. Near the entrance to her room were
doors to other rooms. Last night she learned one was Amber’s office
containing a desk, computers, and everything she needed to stay
connected to her responsibilities at SiJo. Additional doors led to
a den and an extra bedroom. Amber’s bedroom was on the other end of
the condo.
Claire continued down the hall, into the
living room, and through the archway to the cool kitchen.
Everything looked perfect. Although she could, Amber didn’t employ
a full time household staff. She reasoned, she enjoyed cooking, and
often ate out. A cook would be underutilized. There was a woman who
came twice a week to clean and do laundry.
Though early, Claire
longed for real, non-prison coffee. She eyed the coffee maker upon
the granite countertop. It was different than any she’d seen
before, some kind of individual cup thing.
Had making coffee changed that much in fourteen
months?
She tried desperately to decipher
its operation. The metal stand by its side held multiple types of
coffee and flavors in small sealed cups. After further
investigation and exploration she surrendered and sat at the
kitchen table. The quietness of the apartment combined with the
freedom to move about as she wished allowed Claire’s mind to replay
the past twenty-four hours. Staring through the windows into the
dark predawn sky she remembered....
*****
When Claire regained consciousness at Des
Moines International Airport, the security officer tried
frantically to calm her nerves. Once in his office he handed Claire
the telephone. On the other end Amber McCoy responded to Claire’s
obvious distress, explaining, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten
you. It’s just after Liz, my assistant, told me she booked you a
flight, I started thinking. Maybe I didn’t need to take this
precaution, but after all you’ve told me, well, I just thought it
would be better if there weren’t any record of your travel.”