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Chapter Seven

I t was quiet—too quiet.

Claire woke up suddenly. Had Keith come back?

Was he sneaking up on her? She strained to hear any noise.

Where was Mark? Her heart was thumping, keeping time with the alarm clock.

She sat upright, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried to orient herself.

In the early light, she thought she was still in the floral-wallpapered bedroom she’d shared with Keith.

It always looked so peaceful. So innocent.

But just like her handsome husband, both hid dark, dirty secrets.

Had she just imagined Keith found her? She shook her head.

She was safe at Mark’s house. For now. But she hadn’t dreamt that Keith had found her. He had. She needed to make plans to leave before he returned—before he ruined Mark and Sam’s life. And he would. Where to go? She didn’t have unlimited options.

She lay there for a long time and finally pushed herself to get up. Couldn’t get on with the day if she were lying in bed.

First things first—a cup of coffee. She remembered that Mark told her he had to leave early for a meeting at his office and to help herself in the kitchen.

Sam had to work but made her promise that she’d call if she needed anything.

She shrugged. What would she need? A new life?

One without Keith in it, for sure. Sam couldn’t help her with that. She needed to help herself.

She made the coffee and found some milk and sugar.

She sat at the kitchen table. Sunlight filtering in from the window made everything look bright and cheerful.

She let out a heavy sigh and wondered how her life got so messed up.

She only wanted to be happy, to have a man to love and one who would love her back. Not too much to ask. Was it?

Looking at the clock, she realized she had been sitting too long. The one thing she was sure of was that Keith would come back. She needed to get going. But to where?

Mark had given her the password to his computer. She typed it in and then searched the internet for shelters. Damn, the list was long, and she needed a specific type of shelter. Down the list again.

There.

An 800 number to call. She dialed it and explained her situation. They gave her an address and told her that someone could pick her up. That wasn’t happening. She didn’t want anyone knowing Mark’s address. She would get there on her own.

It was a few miles away into the city but too far to walk.

She got her purse and counted what little money she had.

It didn’t take long. She had just enough for a taxi.

No extra for a tip. She thought about calling Sam, who had been so kind and volunteered to help her.

However, she had a feeling that Sam would insist that she stay at Mark’s house.

She couldn’t put anyone else in danger. She needed to do this for herself—time to pull up her big-girl panties and be strong and brave.

She called the taxi and packed her meager belongings.

The little carry-on was a far cry from the huge designer suitcase she used when she and Keith traveled.

She found a notepad and thanked Mark and Sam for their hospitality and told them she was on to her next adventure with a friend who lived in Miami.

She apologized for bringing her troubles to them and said that she would be okay and would let them know when she arrived at her friend’s house.

Looking around the comfortable living room, Claire was thankful for the respite and for Mark and Sam’s concern. But it was time to move on before things got worse—and they would.

A honk out front announced the cab’s arrival. Claire doubled-checked to make sure it was the cab and that there were no other cars on the street. She wouldn’t put it past Keith to be stalking Mark’s house.

Her heart was furiously beating as she set the house alarm and marched into a hot, humid day. Her pulse was pounding in time with her steps. She glanced around furtively—no Keith.

The cab was cold when she slipped in, but the temperature did nothing to bring down her anxiety. She told the cab driver where to drop her off. It was a few blocks from the shelter. Couldn’t take too many chances. Keith could be mighty persuasive when he wanted information.

Twenty minutes later, she was deposited in front of a storefront in a gentrified part of Black Pointe. The taxi driver was annoyed that she didn’t leave a tip. Tough.

There were a few people on the street, mostly young moms with kids in strollers.

It was still early enough that the stores weren’t too busy.

Sweat was pouring down her back and forehead.

She swiped at her face. Her heart thumped so loudly, like a mating call, she was sure Keith could hear it.

Glancing around, she didn’t see any signs of him.

She walked several blocks and quickly spotted the shelter. The description she was given was spot-on. It was a three-story older brick building in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. She turned and looked around. Good. No cars on the road or people walking on the sidewalk.

She hurried up the short brick path, hardly noticing small gardens on either side with an array of flowers and colors.

She stood in front of the brown door, beads of sweat on her face, her hands shaking.

She inhaled deeply and rang the doorbell before she lost her nerve.

Its sound echoed through the building and scared her enough to jump back.

Get ahold of yourself, silly . She heard footsteps and saw a shadow by the peephole.

A lock clicked. She heard two more clicks before the door slowly opened. A middle-aged woman stood there.

“Penny?”

The woman smiled and nodded. “You must be Claire. Come in, honey.” She looked furtively around the street and then pulled Claire into a chilly hallway and closed the door, taking time to re-engage each lock.

Claire followed Penny down a long hallway painted a soothing green and heard laughter—a sound she hadn’t heard in a while.

She almost didn’t recognize it. Two small children raced around a living room on her left, skidded to a stop in front of her and stared.

She bent down and told them her name was Claire.

They bobbed their heads and continued racing around.

Cheerful sounds came from the back of the house, and the scent of tomato and basil wafted toward her. Her stomach rumbled.

They continued down the hall to the kitchen, where several women were cooking, laughing and washing dishes.

A sweet domestic scene. One that belied the real situation.

The large space was painted a cheery yellow with flowered curtains at the windows.

The linoleum floor showed its age but was spotless, and a large, slightly worn wooden table with eight chairs filled the space.

The stove and refrigerator looked used—no stainless-steel appliances or granite countertops here.

The irony wasn’t lost on her that she had all that and look where that got her.

Penny introduced Claire—first names only, she said, unless someone wanted to share that information.

Fine by her. Claire was relieved that she didn’t need to make up a last name.

Keith’s name was as well known here as in New York and the surrounding area.

He had been written up in newspapers for his philanthropic work.

She wanted to believe no one would contact him, but she had been disappointed before.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Jumped.

“Sorry. I wanted to help you get settled in,” said Penny. “Everyone here can fill you in on the schedule when you’re ready to come down. No hurry. Take your time.”

Penny led her up a flight of stairs to the second floor. She opened the door to a small bedroom, painted a pale blue. White curtains at the window let in light. There was a single bed with a colorful fern spread, a single chair with a standing light behind it, and a small dresser.

“It isn’t big, but it’s comfortable, and you’ll be safe here. Unfortunately, you’ll have to share the bathroom,” said Penny.

“Thank you. It’s wonderful and more than I expected,” said Claire.

Penny closed the door softly behind her.

Claire stood there in the silence and let out a deep breath.

She did it! She was officially on her own.

But she was scared. A shelter for abused women was the one place she never thought she would end up at when she married Keith four years ago.

Of course, there was a list of things relating to Keith she never thought about.

She unpacked her suitcase; the contents didn’t fill even one drawer.

Claire hung up the one dress she’d bought.

Like the shoes, it was a designer brand she found at the thrift shop.

Could have been hers at one point in time.

She sighed and plunked down in the chair. It was a little lumpy, but still.

She needed to make a list of her next steps—from deciding if she was staying in Florida to finding a job.

One way or another, she desperately needed money.

Should she divorce Keith or just disappear?

Silly question. Divorce was out of the question.

He would never let her divorce him. If he knew she was here, he’d cajole and harass her until he got her back or worse.

Disappear, it was. She rubbed her forehead. So many decisions to make.

She also had to call Sheri and let her know that she had moved on and was okay.