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

Chapter 2

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.