Knight Rider belongs to Glen A. Larson, et al.
When did Devon and Bonnie meet? How long have they known one another? Just how deep does their relationship go? And how did she get the job as Devon's right-hand assistant? This story, written years ago, tries to answer those questions. It actually occurs 5 or 6 years before the timeframe of my other story entitled "Greener Pastures". Any small discrepancies in the character development that might occur are due to time passing in my own life and do not necessarily reflect early onset senility on my part!
Filling Jack's Shoes
Bonnie Barstow had been young when she started to work for the Foundation for Law and Government. A computer genius and a straight "A" student, she had always been ahead of her peers in school. She graduated from high school at 16, and had begun M.I.T. the next fall. She showed herself superior in every way, and excelled to the point of being top in her class, graduating at the young age of 22 with a doctorate in cybernetics technology.
Devon had met her father, Jack Barstow, years before, during the war. They had forged a close bond during WWII as they had battled the Axis powers together while stationed in France. Years later, when Bonnie had been born, Jack had notified Devon. In fact, he had named Devon her godfather. He had not actually met Bonnie, however, until her graduation from high school. Devon had flown out to be there, and had been taken with her winsome ways even then. From the day they had met, she and Devon shared a bond of friendship and fellowship. They were surprised at how much they had in common: both were intensely loyal people, highly intelligent and well educated, both loved classical music (they were surprised to learn that Vivaldi was their favorite composer!), good literature, and the theatre. Their type of relationship was one rarely seen in the workplace and hard to describe, but suffice it to say, they were close. Highly impressed with her skill and her mind, he had offered her full funding for her education if she would consider coming to work for the Foundation after graduation. Devon knew she was nearly a custom fit for the job. She had jumped at the chance. The idea of being able to work on a project the size and scope of K.I.T.T. was a dream come true for her.
Devon had always been kind to Bonnie. The first Christmas after she came to work for him, he'd found her sitting on the back porch swing, crying softly to herself. Sitting next to her, he'd kindly asked enough probing questions to get her to laughingly confess that she was homesick. It was so warm in California, and while beautiful, she missed the snow. She apologized to him for putting a damper on the holiday for him. He'd asked with a small degree of mock sterness (she'd learned to read it by now) about her holiday, and she'd tried to laugh it off. But he was adamant. Two hours later they were in the Knight Industries jet, speeding toward Boston. She hated to fly, and he'd even given her a mild sedative so that she slept for several hours and arrived minus the jitters she usually had after flying. He'd then had her driven to her parents' house-a big surprise for them. They had insisted Devon stay, although he was wont to intrude.
"Anyone who's been so wonderful to my Bonnie-girl must stay with us," Dr. Jack Barstow had said. He always called her that, and Devon had smiled at how fitting the nickname was. She was definitely his girl, his pride and joy. She resembled her mother, Mary, especially those huge, smokey eyes they shared alike. But she got her personality entirely from Jack Barstow. Mary had said that they'd been almost inseparable when she was younger. He had hoped for a while that she would follow in his footsteps and become a doctor, but she swore she couldn't stand the sight of blood. Computers were her real love. She finally convinced him she wanted to pursue that line. He gave in to that, wanting her to be successful and happy. Devon assured him she was an asset. Jack had agreed as he gave his daughter a big hug and again welcomed her home. Besides, she was a doctor - just not a doctor of medicine!
Devon had enjoyed that weekend with them. Boston reminded him a little of England, and that holiday was somewhat reminiscent of those he'd had years ago as a boy. The memory of that week he and Bonnie shared was remembered fondly over the years.
The next time Devon flew her back to Boston, it was for Jack's funeral. It had been a very unexpected thing - he'd had a sudden heart attack and died within hours. Bonnie had taken the news very hard, but Devon noticed that she'd been nearly stoic through the entire ordeal. She didn't shed a tear at home, she slept on the plane, and sat, dry-eyed through the whole funeral. He worried she was in shock, and was terribly solicitous of her. Mary later told Devon he'd done everything but cut her meat on her plate for her. Two days after the funeral, Bonnie had insisted that they return to California. Her mother had wanted her to stay, but Bonnie told her that Colleen and Maggie, Bonnie's two sisters, would be there with her. They had both seemed to react more openly to Jack's death, and didn't quite understand Bonnie's quiet, internal grieving. Bonnie had smiled, kissed her mother on the cheek, and assured her that work was just what she needed.
Devon watched her return and throw herself into her work, working long hours and eating very little. After a week, he brought a tray into the study with a cup of broth and some toast. Then he didn't ask her, he told her, to eat.
"I'm not hungry," she'd told him.
"I realize that, " Devon acknowledged, "But you need to eat, nonetheless. You'll get sick."
"I'll...eat something later. Thank you."
"You'll eat now. I've heard that same phrase from you for several days now."
Bonnie set her jaw, and he knew her Irish temper was just below the surface. "I said I'd eat later, and I will."
"See here, girl! I'll not have my employees dropping like flies." He handed her the cup. "Take some."
In a temper at being forced to do something she really didn't want to do, she knocked it away, and consequently out of his hand. The cup went flying, broth spilling everywhere. The second it crashed to the floor, her large, frightened eyes looked up at him.
"Oh, Devon! I'm sorry...I didn't mean..." she began, jumping up and heading for the cup, which had broken, lying on the carpet.
Devon took her arm. "It's all right, Bonnie. You can be expected to be more...emotional than usual right now. It's only because I worry about you that I want you to eat."
She hung her head, looking truly ashamed of herself. "I haven't snapped like that in years," she said. "I...I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just eat something."
She stopped working long enough to eat one piece of toast and drink some tea. Then, she was back to business as usual.
Oddly, as the week progressed, Devon began to see her temper manifest itself in various ways. She snapped at Dr. VonVoorman, who told her something about KITT's laser ducts, and she replied, "I know that! Do you think I'm stupid?" After being told by the good doctor about her volatile reaction to his suggestion, Devon came into the lab. Dr. VonVoorman had been afraid he'd offended her, although Devon assured him that that was not the case.
Everyone at the lab was looking out for her, watching her, because Devon had issued an edict. Bonnie was now in a real danger of breaking down, so everyone had to be a support.
As Devon entered her lab he heard her saying to Darlene, a fellow worker, "I told you I don't want to go to lunch with you! What's wrong? Don't you understand English?"
Devon adored Bonnie, but he knew when enough was enough. "Bonnie," he said, kindly but firmly, "I'm sure Darlene wasn't trying to insult you by extending a luncheon invitation."
"She's insulting my senses by not taking 'no' for an answer!"
Darlene, in tears, turned to Devon. "I...I was just trying to help...like you said."
Smiling at her, Devon patted her shoulder. "And I appreciate it -- even if Bonnie doesn't."
"What does she mean, 'like you said'?" Bonnie asked, putting down her micro-torque. Devon nodded to Darlene, who gratefully took off. "You've told everybody here to take care of me, haven't you? Like I was a baby or something!"
He took her arm. "Come with me, Bonnie."
She jerked her arm away, but he did not put down his extended hand that was indicating the door. Jamming her fists into her lab coat, she stormed outside with Devon right behind her.
"In answer to your question, Bonnie, yes, I've told everyone to be especially kind to you. You've had a severe emotional blow, and although you're too stubborn to admit it, you are not over it yet."
Her eyes blazed with temper, and for a moment, he thought she'd have a tantrum right in front of him. "I am over it!" she insisted.
"You've not begun to get over it yet. In my mind, you haven't even recognized that there is a problem!"
"Then you are out of your mind!" she declared as she slammed out the door. He caught up with her and stopped her by exerting light pressure on her elbow. "Young lady, there is a limit to what I can be expected to take! As your employer, I'm entitled to respect! And, as your friend, I deserve better!"
She blushed a little at his scolding her, although she knew he was right. She opened her mouth to apologize, and he stopped her.
"I want you to come with me," he said. He began to walk, and she followed him. From the lab to the house, through the back gate, across a wooded area, he walked to a small house on the other side of the grounds. She followed, keeping up at first, but getting tired after the quarter mile walk. He unlocked the front door and held it open for her. Inside, it was a rustic cabin. She went inside, then turned puzzled eyes to him.
"I've never been here before."
"It's the guest quarters of the Foundation. Usually, guests stay at the house, but occasionally, someone needs a little more...space. Sit down."
She sat on the bed, feeling as though she'd been called into the principal's office. He looked down at her.
"Bonnie, until this issue is...resolved in your heart..." and here, her head came up to argue with him, but he went on, "I expect you to use this place as your...refuge. Your holding tank, your safe house. Whatever you choose to call it. If I see you jeopardizing your job - or your friends- I will tell you to go to the guest house. I will mean for you to stop what you are doing - or saying- and come here. I don't care what you are in the middle of." He sat next to her and put his arm around her. He wanted her to understand that her job could be on the line, although firing her was the last thing on his mind. He needed her there - she truly was invaluable as an employee. She had been more or less groomed for the job personally. He also knew that this job was all she was hanging on to and simply could not bring himself to jerk it out from under her. "It will be wisdom on your part to do as I say. You are far too valuable an employee to lose your job over insubordination," he told her quietly.
"How long will I have to stay out here?" she asked with a little sniff.
"Until you've calmed down."
"Why don't you just send me to my room? Or make me go stand in a corner?" she flared.
"Don't think those thoughts haven't entered my mind the last few days - and a few others, besides." He gently placed a light kiss on her forehead. "But those sound like punishments, don't they? This isn't. It's a way of helping you...deal with stress until life becomes easier for you."
She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm sorry I was so...rude to you. You're really very understanding."
He patted her shoulder. "Don't mention it. Are you ready to get back to work?" She nodded, and he escorted her back to the lab, where she apologized to Darlene, but still refused to go to lunch.
It was over a week later when she threw a CPU board at the wall because she couldn't get it to work. Devon looked up at her and said, "Bonnie, this would be a good time for you to go to the guest house."
Face flaming, she almost shouted,"NO!" at him, but she loved her job. It was her driving force, all that was keeping her going. If she lost that, she'd truly have nothing. So out she flew. Oddly, though, the California sun, the birds, and the exercise did their job. She got half way to the guest house and felt much better. She came back, picked up the pieces, and started over. She was surprised when everything fit perfectly, and it worked.
Since the results from that were so good, the next time he told her to go, she went almost willingly. This time, she made it all the way before turning to come back.
"Touch base and come home", she'd murmured.
For weeks, they went through the exercise. Devon, who had a vast patience, was beginning to worry. Rather than helping her clear her head, she seemed to be picking fights just to get out of difficult situations. That wouldn't do. She had to learn to deal with people again. Finally, after four weeks of 'therapy', during which time she was sent out eight times (and the frequency was getting closer together), he changed the tactic somewhat. He now made her stay there at least 10 minutes. Once she tried coming back early, but he had it timed. That time he sent her back. With a combined walk of nearly a mile within 15 minutes, she was exhausted. When she didn't return, he went looking for her. He found her sleeping on the bed. He knew she needed sleep, so he let her stay. Several hours later she returned, acting like her old self. He thought it was working. But he was using a BandAid for a wound that needed a tourniquet.
Chapter Two - Devon Takes the Plunge
That his 'cooling off' theory wasn't working was brought home to him several months after her father's funeral. He saw her sitting on the glider by the pool,staring at the water and looking very forlorn. Going out, he sat next to her. For a few minutes, neither one spoke. Then, quietly, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Her head snapped around. "Talk about what?" she asked.
"Whatever it is that's bothering you."
"Why do you think something's bothering me?"
"Oh, merely the...expression on your face."
"I guess now I'll have to get a new face! Plastic surgery!" she snapped.
"Please don't," he tried to soothe her. "A face as lovely as yours only comes along once in a while."
She tossed down the pillow she was holding. "God, you're depressing!" she told him.
He frowned. "I'm sorry. It was meant to be a compliment."
"Well, I'm sick of them. Eveyone is so nice - and sweet - and kind - it's nauseating!"
"Everyone cares about you."
"Baloney! They care about their jobs. I know you gave orders to everyone to 'take care of me'. A bunch of babysitters! We're trying to get this project out on time and I'm being treated like an injured child!" she ranted on.
"Only perhaps because you've been behaving like one," Devon replied with just a little firmness.
Her eyes opened wide. She was incensed. Standing up, she flared, "How dare you...!"
He stood up to face her. "I dare...because I care about you. I'm only telling you the truth. And you know it."
"Do I?" she yelled
"Lower your voice," he commanded her.
"I'll yell if I want to! I've been living in a mausoleum for months! I have a temper! I have feelings! You snap your fingers and expect me to jump - like a dog!"
Devon normally would have censured her severely for such an outburst, but he was sensing that, perhaps, the dam that stopped up her feelings was about to burst, so he wanted to encourage her expresssons.
"You have a temper - you're telling me!" he said back. "I've known you for years, yet I've never before experienced the outbursts, the insults, the out and out temper tantrums you've carried on the past few weeks. And I must say, my patience is wearing very thin."
This was all said to her with much control and no emotion, and she seemed to step back from him for a moment.
"Your patience!" she repeated with heavy sarcasm. "Patience is restraint. What are you restraining? You have no temper. You seem to have no soul. Just one huge soft spot in your heart. Or your head."
She could offer no reason, even to herself, for why she was finding his loving patience so difficult to take. He'd been so kind and gentle with her, but always with a detached, impersonal air that she could find no real complaint. But subconsciously, she knew she was fighting with all her being substituting Devon Miles in her heart for Jack Barstow. She felt guilty and disloyal, and was taking it out on everyone around her.
She also desperately wanted Devon to fill the void Jack had left. For a certainty, there was no way her father would have allowed the behaviour she had been exhibiting lately. To be kind was good. But to allow her to be wild and uncontrolled and continue to be kind was not what she wanted nor what she needed. She wanted him to fill Jack Barstow's shoes. To show the backbone and courage he had. At that moment, she asked herself what it was that she wanted from him, but she didn't know. Only that his scolding her was always followed by a hug, a kiss, or a compliment - as if to let her know he didn't want her to take it too seriously. Devon looked at her and said, "If I do have a soft spot in my heart, for you, consider it a blessing right now."
With one, final, desperate act of rebellion, she moved to the edge of the pool. Then, with a great shove, she pushed him into the water. She saw him surface, saw the look in his eye, and spun on her heel. As she tromped across the concrete to the steps down to the yard, she looked over her shoulder and called:
"Don't tell me to go to the guest house. I figured that one out for myself!" With that, she stormed off down the steps and across the green in the direction of the cabin.
After hauling himself out of the pool, Devon stood flinging water off his hands and staring after her. He wanted nothing so much as to follow her and show her how wrong she was! In actuality, he had a fierce Irish temper himself. He'd learned over the years to control it nearly to perfection. But one beautiful, troubled, headstrong young woman was closer to causing him to lose it than years of fighting criminals had been.
Chapter 3 -A Bomb at Dinner
Shaking his head to try to eliminate the water running off of his hair and onto his shoulders, he headed into the house to dry off and change clothes. Blast the girl, he'd ruined a brand new tie! He changed into a different suit, then sat in his study staring at the telephone as if it held an answer for him. Finally, he picked up the receiver and called Mary Barstow. He asked pointed questions and got lengthy answers. Answers to questions concerning her early childhood (she was extremely pleasant), her dispensation towards tantrums (never), and most of all, her relationship with Jack. He knew that somehow, all of this came back to Jack Barstow. After talking to Mary for 15 minutes, he saw why. And, perhaps, he even saw how. He asked how she'd been doing, and she revealed that she'd cried several times since the funeral, and was now doing better. She asked directly about Bonnie, and he frowned.
"She's yet to cry, Mary."
"Devon, it's been over three months!"
"I know, I know," he sighed. "It's been far too long. I've allowed it to go on for weeks longer than I should have."
" 'It'?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing I can't handle."
Mary sight. "Devon, I know my daughter. I love her. I know you do, too. But I'm very worried about her. She worshipped Jack, and although she's never been what I would call emotional, it doesn't seem right that after all of this time, she still hasn't grieved openly for the loss of this man who was the center of her world!" Then, her voice lowered, as though she was trying to prevent being overheard. "I don't want to betray a confidence, but she stood in my kitchen and told me that next to Jack, she loved and respected you more than any man she's ever known."
He was quiet at that. As the pause lengthened, she called, "Devon? Are you there?"
"Yes, I'm here. I'm sorry. I was just thinking. I suppose if I'm going to fill those shoes I need to just step into them. She needs it now."
He could hear the smile in her voice. "Why am I not worried as much about her now? I'm glad she has you there. I'd be very concerned if she didn't."
"Don't worry. I'll take care of her. Personally. And Mary?" he asked.
"What?"
"I promise you, whatever I feel I have to do, I'll only do it because I treasure the girl. I love her, and if I have to get very...firm with her, it's because I care and want to help her."
"Devon, you're both adults. You don't need my permission to help my daughter in any way you think is right. As far as I'm concerned, she's your girl now. I trust you to do the right thing, and to take care of her."
He smiled. "Thank you. You've relieved my mind greatly."
"Thank you for calling, Devon."
"Give my love to the girls. And I hope the next time I call to have much better news."
"Great. Good-bye."
He hung up, and again stared at the phone. He had been nearly an hour, getting dressed, completing the call,etc. Now he walked out to the guest house with mixed emotions. He was still peeved with her behaviour, but mostly he wanted to see her happy again. He knocked. No answer. He called. No anwer. He opened the door. The place was empty. A panic filled his heart. He went to the phone and called security. She hadn't left the grounds. A check found that she was working in the lab. He hurried over there. Opening the door to the hallway, he saw the light under the door. He opened the door to her lab and found her sitting on a stool, staring into a microscope.
"So. Here you are," he said softly. She looked up quickly and gasped in surprise. She didn't expect him there, and swallowed nervously. Too embarrassed about her recent bad behaviour to say much, she stammered, "Yeah, I...uh...I thought I might get some work done. You know...alone."
"Yes, I know. Sometimes, I get the most accomplished after everyone's in bed." Then, trying to bridge a problem, he said, "But there are...rules about working alone at night."
"Please, Devon. I'm not a child." She glanced down, then up. "Even if I have been behaving like one lately. I'll be fine. Security's here."
"I know, " he said. He had been the one who had sent them there, though he didn't want her to know that. "You...haven't forgotten that we are to attend a dinner party with Mr. Knight at 8:00?"
"No, I...I haven't forgotten."
Wilton Knight was wanting a chance to show Bonnie off to some important supporters of the Foundation, and to some younger people who were interested in their work there. Devon had warned him that this might not be a good time for her, but did agree that the diversion would be good for her. He'd intentionally placed her next to a young man, an engineer from Stanford who was among the visitors. Hopefully, they'd hit it off. Devon looked at her now.
"Are you tired?"
" A little. I'll be fine. I'll be at dinner at 8:00. Sharp. I promise."
That was an obvious send-off, so he left, trusting her to keep her word.
She did. She showed up at 7:55 at Wilton Knight's office, where the three of them met to go into the dining room. Devon held her chair and then took the seat opposite her. He studied her. She was, frankly, absolutely stunning. Her dark hair was pulled back but not put up. Her dress was modest but elegant in a deep peach satin, skirted with several layers of peach chiffon. But the sparkle that her eyes usually held was gone.
The other guests arrived and took their places. The young engineer who sat next to Bonnie was very attractive, but he was, in Devon's estimation, a jerk. He chewed his lip a bit. This one was a facer. He could hardly change the seating arrangements now, and he could see Bonnie trying to ignore him. Even as the wine was poured, she looked strained to keep her temper in check.
"I'm finishing my masters at Stanford," he told her.
She smiled at him tolerantly. "That's nice." She took a sip of wine.
"I got my bachelor's degree from UCLA. I tell ya, west coast colleges are the greatest! You hear a lot about the Ivy League schools, but give me the west coast every time."
Trying not to lose her temper, but wanting to get away from this man who had just slammed her alma mater, she gave him a phony laugh. Devon caught her eye and shook his head. She bit her lip. Devon nervously glanced at Wilton Knight, who was watching her with pride, and totally unaware of the bomb about to be dropped at his dinner party.
"Where did you train?" the young man, Rob Wester, asked her with total disinterest in her answer.
With a killer smile, she said, through her teeth, "M...I...T." Rob's face brightened as he said, "Oh, wow! I'm impressed."
Bonnie nodded with mock sincerity. "Oh, I am so happy I was able to impress you, Mr. Wester. However, let me tell you something. I didn't 'train' anywhere. I'm not an electrical engineer or a general flunky. I'm not even a common computer programmer. I am a cybernetics technician specializing in computer generation. I have my doctorate. So don't condescend to me, all right?"
Devon cringed at the venom in her voice, but really became nervous when he heard Rob reply:
"Gee, I was only making conversation. Don't be so touchy. It's just that...well...everyone knows that Stanford is the #1 school in the country!" He seemed unaware of her distress.
"Really?" she asked. Leaning over, she dislodged his soup bowl, which had just been filled, into his lap. "Which country is that?"
Devon jumped up and said to Rob, "Oh, I'm sorry! I 'm sure that was an accident."
Rob, mopping up the mess in his lap with his napkin, said, "It's okay." Then, looking at Bonnie, he said, "You sure are jittery!" Just as Devon was sitting back down, Rob went on with the brilliant query, "Who died?"
Bonnie stood up. "This is no accident!" she exclaimed, and emptied her wine glass over his head.
Devon's first act was to look up at Wilton Knight to see how he was reacting to this very disturbing behaviour on Bonnie's part. Miraculously, he was gone, and so was the server. Apparently, there had been a problem in the kitchen. The next item on his mental agenda was to say to Bonnie, "Miss Barstow, I need to see you in the hall. Now."
She headed for the door after throwing her napkin onto the table, with fire in her eyes. To Rob Wester, he said, "I'm sure we are all glad that you didn't go to work for the state department." Rob Wester looked confused. Devon continued. "I do apologize for her actions. But she misses Boston terribly. And her father's just died."
"Oh, man, I'm sorry. I wish I'd known. I'm from Connecticut myself."
"Why couldn't you have brought that up over the first course?" Devon asked pointedly. "Excuse me - I'm needed elsewhere." With that he left to find Bonnie fuming in the hallway.
He approached her with indignation. "How dare you behave in such a manner to a guest of the Foundation?"
"He's a jerk," Bonnie responded, as if that justified an all-out attack at a party.
"I agree. But you can't go through life attacking every jerk you meet. How many jerks have I had to entertain in my lifetime?" Devon asked her, trying to prove a point.
"Is that a rhetorical question, or do you want an answer?"
"What I want, Miss Barstow, is for you to go in there and apologize to that young man."
"I won't do it!" she shot back at him.
"You will do it!" he insisted in a tone that implied no arguments. "You will do it because you are a representative of the Foundation - however tenuously - and you have insulted a dinner guest. If Wilton Knight had seen it, you'd have been summarily fired! He won't tolerate rudeness from his employees - even those he loves dearly!"
Bonnie looked a little nonplussed. "Mr. Knight...loves me?"
"And he's not the only one!" Devon added for her benefit, in complete contrast to the tone he was using with her. Then he fixed her with a look she'd never seen on his face before. "And, my dear, after you have apologized to Mr. Wester and the rest of our guests, you will march yourself out to the guesthouse. This time, you will wait for me. Once I get there, we will settle this - once and for all. Do not leave without apologizing. Now scoot!"
She watched his face reflecting his extreme disappointment with her. Her huge eyes, filled with apprehension and uncertainty, met his. She was slightly unnerved by the look of resigned determination on his face. She could barely nod. She knew she was about to be fired. Her heart was pounding in her chest. He turned to leave, and she watched his retreating back. Chills ran down her spine. This had all the earmarks of a "Go to your room!", no matter how he tried to paint it.
With flushed cheeks, she took a deep breath and forced herself to go back inside. The brief apology, though difficult, eased her guilt a little.
"I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid my nerves are shot. I...haven't been well, and if you'll excuse me, I think I'll retire for the evening."
With a nod from Wilton Knight, she headed down the hall and toward the door, angry with Devon for making her apologize, yet respecting him enormously for standing his ground. She looked up at the hallway. This was probably the last time she'd ever see this magnificent house. She loved it. Why had she been so hateful and hard to deal with? It was not her nature. This time, she was dreading the walk out to the guest house. She didn't want to go. Devon, however, had been quite definite about it, and for once, she was loathe to disobey him. On the trek out to the cabin, her legs felt like lead. Her head was swimming. She felt sure that she would faint. Finally she arrived, scared and edgy. How could she have been so stupid as to cause this trouble? she wondered. Yet she realized the past few months had been a series of stupid actions on her part. No matter how hard she'd tried, she'd not been able to get rid of the anger and resentment she felt toward everyone, and Devon in particular. He'd been so patient with her the last few months and she'd somehow resented it. Now that it seemed that his patience was exhausted, she missed it.
Devon went back in to the guests and behind Wilton. Then he whispered into Wilton's ear:
"I'm going to take Bonnie home for the night. She has really pushed herself to her limit. I'm afraid she is in need of some extended...therapy." Wilton, thinking that Devon was referring to her physical condition, readily agreed. He'd noticed that there was a bond between the two of them, although he didn't know quite what that was. With the words, "I'll be back." he left to take care of this most delicate problem.
Chapter 4 - Let's Settle This...
When he reached the guest house, he saw the light on and knew that she was already there. Knowing she was nervous, he intentionally waited a few more minutes, letting her stew. Then he quickly opened the door. Bonnie, absently paging through a magazine she'd found on a table, dropped it to the floor and jumped up. For a long moment, Devon stood there staring at her. He was in complete control of the situation. She stared back at him wide-eyed. She was nervous, he could tell. It was about time that she felt something other than contempt for him. Fear wasn't exactly what he would have desired her to feel, but it was better than disdain.
With a big gulp, she swallowed. "What..." she began, shivering inside, "what are you going to do? "
"Something I'd rather not do."
That confirmed her suspicions. He was going to fire her on the spot.
He continued, "And something I...don't really believe in doing. But, Bonnie, you've forced my hand."
She looked confused. Since when did Devon not believe in firing people?
Bonnie was, quite frankly, scared half to death right now. Devon had not gotten angry with her once since she'd come here, no matter how angry she had gotten with him. Now that the roles were reversed, she didn't like it. Why did he have to pick now to 'settle this once and for all'? She tried to assuage his anger.
"I...I'm..." She gulped. This was hard. "I'm sorry."
He pulled at his ear a little. "Yes, I imagine you are right now."
She wanted to say something else, but her throat was dry. She swallowed nervously and stood staring at him with her enormous eyes, waiting for him to continue.
"Bonnie," he said calmly, "for three months you have been moping around here, throwing tantrums and anything else you could lay your hands on. You are brilliant. One of the most competent people I have ever met, with Spartan self-control. Yet for months, it seems to me, you have been asking me...no, make that begging me...to stop this rampage you're on. For most of that time, I have been the object of your derision. I was more than willing to take it for as long as you needed to give it out. But tonight you crossed a line: you attacked a guest of the Foundation. That I cannot ignore."
She paled. In a small voice, she asked, "What are you gonna do?"
He unbuttoned his jacket and took it off, laying it on the back of the black leather chair in the corner. Her eyes followed everything he was doing. Turning toward her and taking a few steps, he said, "For all of this time, your behaviour has been on a par with a tired, unruly three year old child who is misbehaving to get attention. I think it is way past time that I give you this spanking that you seem - for reasons of your own - to so desperately want me to give you."
She felt her face flush, but she couldn't say anything. She knew he was absolutely right. That was exactly how she had been acting. Actually, how she had been feeling. There was a war inside of her for all this time between wanting to please him, to have his approval, and wanting to test him, to push him to see how much he would take before he snapped. Testing had won out. In her wildest dreams, though, she never thought he would resort to this! She doubted that this could be what lay at the root of her attacks on him over the months. After all, her father had never spanked her. But for some reason, for the first time in several months, she didn't feel like fighting him any more. However, she felt obligated to protest.
"Oh!" she squeaked. "You...you can't do that to me, Devon!"
"Of course I can, " he said lightly as he stood in front of her. "I'm bigger than you are."
"But, Devon..." she whined, feeling a hard lump in her throat that hurt to swallow.
"Hush, now, none of that. You've worked hard to earn this, Bonnie. You won't be denied collecting what you deserve. I care for you far too much to let this continue any further. I am only sorry that I didn't do it sooner - it would have saved all of us a lot of trouble!"
Her lip began to quiver, but she determined that no matter what he did to her, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Oddly enough, her crying was exactly what his goal was. No one else except Bonnie herself knew how badly she needed to cry to rid herself of months of pent up raw emotion. Whether or not she cried in front of him, though, was not important to him.
At the moment, giving in and just letting him do this was preferable to her to a huge fight she was probably going to lose anyway. Maybe just getting this over with quickly would stop the hot rush of blood to her face, the pounding of her heart, and the jitters she could not get rid of. She hoped she could come away with at least a fraction of her dignity intact.
Devon pulled her to him firmly but not roughly and sat on the bed. With one motion he pulled her down to lay across his lap, with her top half on the bed and her feet just off the flooor. He began to toss back layers of peach chiffon until he reached the satin underslip of her dress. Mortified and speechless, she could only gasp as she felt his large hand raise up high, then descend with a resounding "smack". His hand continued to fall in a series of loud, stinging slaps that forced yelps of protest from her throat, in spite of her determination not to.
When he finished with her, he stood her down and then stood up himself. She turned her back to him, fighting tears. The spanking he'd administered had not been terribly hard, nor had it been extremely painful. It had been more of a stinging humiliation, and they were both aware of that fact. Now he wanted to leave before the tears began - and he knew they would.
He strode to the chair and picked up his jacket. As he put it on, he told her:
"Now. You stay out here tonight. Going without eating dinner might also help you remember how to behave at the table. I shall come and collect you for breakfast in the morning. We still have quite a few things to get settled." He saw her shiver, and he smiled at her back. "You might be surprised at how pleasant things may turn out." He walked to the door, turned, and said, "I'll see you in the morning." And with that, he was gone.
He returned to the party, appearing charming and gracious, but his mind kept straying to the cabin. How he wished she had been 3 years old! That way, he could hold her in his lap and rock her and comfort her, as he wished. But right now, this young woman needed time alone to think about things. To cry. Even to brood if she wanted to. He hoped tomorrow that their talk might ease her pain somewhat.
Bonnie stood in the same place she was when he left, fighting what even she knew was a losing battle. Slowly she turned to stare at the closed door, not believing quite yet that he had actually done what he had, and then left her there alone for the rest of the night. She rubbed at the smarting he'd inflicted for a moment, rooted to the spot. Then, two tears started down her cheeks, then two more, and soon she collapsed onto the bed and sobbed. She cried because of the pain and embarrassment Devon had caused her, out of resentment and frustration at his hurting her and leaving her. But mostly, she cried out of a tremendous sense of loss for Jack Barstow. At last the dam had burst, and it was a long, long time before she managed to get herself together. It took nearly an hour and a box of tissues before she was through.
Her first coherent thought after that was that the hard lump in her throat was gone. Sobs continued to catch in her throat for a long time, punctuating her breathing. She felt like an exhausted child who was too tired to sleep. She wanted to cry again, but found that she was all cried out. And now, to her dismay, she was hungry! She hadn't wanted to eat for months. Surely Devon's whacking her hadn't peaked her appetite! She was confused and totally worn out both physically and emotionally. She got up and went into the bathroom, discovering that it was fully stocked with fresh toiletry items. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. Finding a clean t-shirt hanging on the hook on the back of the door, she put it on, then came out and hung her dress over the back of the couch. As she crawled into the bed, all she really knew was that she was shaky and insecure and didn't want to spend the night in the guest house. For some crazy reason (to her) she wanted Devon to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. But she seemed to have completely ruined her relationship with him by pushing him past his limit. Her father was dead, and now Devon wanted nothing to do with her. The light was turned off, and she suddenly discovered a whole new batch of tears. She cried into her pillow for a long time, then pulled the box of tissues on the table next to her onto the bed. She used the few remaining sheets to try to dry her eyes and blow her nose. And then, she nearly passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Chapter 5 - The Load is Lighter
The sun was streaming in through the window the next morning when Devon knocked on the door of the cabin. Bonnie answered it with a sleepy, "Come in." He opened the door, completely dressed, and registered a little surprise that she was still in bed.
"It's after 8:00. I thought I'd be in trouble for making you wait so long," Devon said with a smile.
She stretched lazily, and smiled back. It felt good to smile. "Devon, you'd have to work awfully hard to ever be in trouble with me." She sat up. "I'm just worried about keeping out of trouble with you."
"My dear, you could never be 'in trouble' with me. I understand you all too well."
She rubbed her touselled hair, looking confused. "Wasn't I in trouble with you last night? Or did I just dream it?"
"You were never in trouble. You merely required some...extended therapy. I believe you're better this morning. I haven't seen that sparkle in your eyes in a while."
"You put it there," she said frankly. Then, "Are you still mad at me?"
He crossed to the bed. "No," he said, sitting down and holding her for a moment. "Are you still angry with me?"
Into his shoulder, she mumbled, "I never was."
"Ha!" he replied, rubbing her head before releasing her. "Well, that may be true. I suppose you were really just very frustrated that I wouldn't...be your daddy and make you behave."
She blushed. "I'm sorry I had to make you...beat me before I listened to you."
"I didn't beat you, Bonnie. I spanked you. There's a vast difference."
"In any case, Devon, you're not my father, and you shouldn't have to 'make me' behave."
"No, I shouldn't. But I did. At least, I did last night." He rubbed her back a moment. At his touch, she closed her eyes, smelling his cologne, feeling the tweed of his jacket. Brushing her hand across his shoulder, she confessed, "My Dad always wore tweed, just like you. And, he was a stickler for manners. He would have been horrified at how I acted last night. I'm sorry." When he didn't say anything, she went on. "He used perfect grammar." Her forehead came down on his shoulder with a soft 'thud'. "I care so much for you, and it isn't right."
"And why not? Don't I love you as my own daughter?"
"That's all right for you, Devon. You don't have a daughter of your own."
"And you are in need of a father. We really can help one another."
"I feel so...disloyal to him," she said, her voice threatening tears. He reached for his handkerchief and dried her eyes.
"Bonnie, you are one of the most loyal persons I have ever met."
"I am?"
"You've been miserable for months because you won't let yourself let go of Jack Barstow. I understand, my dear. No one can ever take his place, and shouldn't. But I do intend to try to take care of you as he would want. And that includes being very firm with you on matters of importance, and trying to spoil you the rest of the time." He raised her face, inches from his own, and looked into her eyes. "And if there are any more tantrums from you, young lady, I will act swiftly - regardless of where we are. So you'd better work on checking that temper of yours. Because the one person around here with a stronger will than you is me!"
She flushed at his soft-spoken promise. And she had no doubt that he meant it anymore. He was neither the pushover nor the marshmallow she'd had him pegged for. And she admired him all the more for the kindness he'd been showing her for months. Realizing how tempted he'd been to step in and put an end to her foolishness made her appreciate it, rather than resent it. She felt she should apologize to him for her atrocious actions.
"Devon, about my...behavior the past few months. I...I know I haven't been the easiest person in the world to get along with. I really appreciate your patience with me, and I...I...don't really blame you for finally putting your foot down. I...realize I have no right to be...attacking other people, and I truly was ashamed of myself for what I did to poor Rob Wester last night. I've certainly dealt with my share of jerks before, but I don't...physically attack them!"
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "My dear, I accept your apology. And please, don't waste another minute worrying about last night. The guests seemed pleased when they left, and Mr. Wester agreed to return in a few weeks. I...think perhaps I shall seat myself between you two next time!"
She laughed as the clock chimed 8:30. She looked at Devon with a slight panic.
"Oh! I...I forgot about breakfast! You shouldn't have let me go on for so long. If you want to wait, I will hurry and get ready. I've kept you waiting too long as it is. Let me just..." she began, starting to get up. He shook his head.
"Don't rush. I'm delighted you slept so well. It's been a long time since you've slept all night."
"How do you know that?" she asked.
"I'm like The Shadow. I know everything."
"Then do you now what I'm to wear, since I came in here in a formal dress, and now I..."
"I don't mind you in robe and slippers if you feel like it. I've given you the morning off - and don't argue with me. You're going to need it."
"All right," she agreed, puzzled. She felt like she was in trouble again, but he seemed to be delighted with her.
Then, crossing to the armoire, he said, "But, if you prefer..." and opened it to reveal a beautiful rust colored sweater and pair of slacks hanging inside. Her eyes widened.
"I was looking at that the other day in the window at..."
"I'll wait outside for you. Take your time - I've something to do anyway."
As soon as the door closed behind him, she threw back the covers and bailed out of bed. Going to the armoire, she pulled out the outfit she'd lingered over at Bloomingdale's just the week before. If Devon knew, how? Apparently, he'd been keeping up with her more than she dreamed possible. She went into the bathroom and took a quick shower, squeaking as she realized that the hot water didn't get as hot in the guest house. She toweled off and eagerly put on the pants outfit. It fit her to a "T". She couldn't help admiring herself in the mirror. The color was perfect. Just as she was ready to pad to the door, she looked around for shoes. Her dyed peach satin heels were out of the question, and so were the slippers next to the bed. There, in the bottom of the armoire, were a pair of terracotta flats that went perfectly. Shaking her head at this generous gift, she slipped them on her feet and fairly flew out the door, clipping her hair back as she did. She walked down the path and met Devon coming toward her. She ran up to him and hugged him. "Oh, Devon, it's so beautiful!" she told him concerning his gift of clothing.
"So are you," he said, handing her a rose he'd cut from the garden. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he escorted her to the back terrace of the main house. There was breakfast for two, fresh flowers - all the amenities she'd expect from Devon Miles. He held her chair and she sat, looking at him.
"I'm hungry. Can you believe it? I haven't been hungry in ages."
"I know that, too. Remember, I'm the one you shied the cup at when I tried to get you to eat."
She blushed deeply, saying, "Devon, I am so sorry. I've really been a brat lately. I don't know how you put up with it for so long. I couldn't stand myself." She took a sip of coffee and, coloring slightly, mumbled, "You should have smacked me weeks ago."
He laughed and covered her hand with his. "Bonnie, what I did to you last night was merely the catalyst. What made you feel better was the good cry you had afterwards."
"How do you know I had a good cry?"
"You nearly had it before I left," he told her. Then he added, "And the empty tissue box and the ashcan full of discarded tissues were giveaways." She shrugged at his obvious deduction and he went on."You've been carrying around a huge load. Last night, we merely found a more comfortable way to carry it. First, you had to get rid of your...excess emotional baggage. Today the load is lighter. And it will continue to get lighter, I promise you."
"I believe you," she said. Then, looking at the table, she exclaimed, "Oh, Wow! Strawberries!" And she proceeded to eat half a dozen of them, plus eggs and toast. When he was satisfied that she'd had enough, he finished what was on his plate.
Pouring her another cup of coffee, he asked, "Now. Are you ready to tackle some unfinished business?"
"Sure. FLAG business?" she asked.
"No - personal business," he answered.
She nodded, paling a little and her eyes becoming rounder. He laughed outright.
"Guilt is a great motivater. But, please, I told you last night - this will be good stuff."
She nodded again.
"First off, I want to tell you again how...vibrant and wonderful you look. Please take care of yourself."
"I will."
"Secondly, KITT is nearly ready to roll. Wilton thinks he might have found a young man that works in with our plans. So I want to offer you the job of being my...personal assistant."
"Devon!" she breathed. "After the way I've been treating you?"
"It's all in the past."
"But, why me?"
There's no one else here as qualified as you. No one I trust as much. No one else I care so much for. We work together hand in glove. And, I can keep an eye on you that way."
"From what I've seen, you've been keeping a pretty close eye on me anyway."
"I've tried...In any case, it will mean putting in long hours, and being devoted to taking care of KITT. And, once he becomes operational, being willing to travel wherever we're needed in the mobile unit."
"Devon, nothing would make me happier. Seriously. It's...it's what I've dreamed of."
He smiled again. "Is this all right so far?"
"Uh-huh," she laughed.
"My, I've missed that laugh," he told her. She demured.
"And, I'd also like to know if you'd be interested in attending the symphony with me."
"When?" she asked, definitely interested.
He laid an envelope in front of her. "Season tickets. It's not the Pops, but they're very good."
She and her dad used to go to the symphony every year she was at M.I.T. Season tickets to the Boston Pops every year. She couldn't hold back the tears. In a flash, Devon was around the table,and pulled her up into his arms. Cradling her head, he held her and rocked her, encouraging her to 'cry it out'. She did, but found it much easier now to cry - and to stop. He dried her eyes.
"Is that a yes? Or a no?"
"A definite yes," she replied, as he released her.
"Fine. Are you ready to move on here?"
"I don't know. I have a very full heart right now."
He touched her shoulder. "Exactly how I want it."
He led her into the house, her hand linked through his arm - a habit continuing for years. He took her up to her bedroom and opened the door. There was her bed - her fourposter bed - just delivered from her parents' house in Boston and assembled that morning. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking with delight. And then she did the one thing she'd wanted to do since the night before. She turned around, grabbed Devon around the neck, and began to shed copious tears, but these were of joy. He held her for a long time, rubbing her back and making shushing sounds, trying to soothe her. She pulled back, her damp cheeks glistening in the light from the window.
"I haven't told you this in a very long time, but I love you, Devon Miles. You are the kindest, most loving, most thoughtful man I know. I'm very proud to be working for you - and that you consider me a friend. Promise me that if I ever start treating you like I have the past few months, that you'll...I don't know...do...something right away! Don't let me go nuts for months. Please."
"I promise, although I doubt very seriously that either one of us will ever have to go through that experience again. It was, I hope, a one time emotional ordeal. You are the very best girl I know. And for the record, I love you, too."
Smiling up at him, she nodded. "I know."
She spent a few minutes checking out the bed, still not quite believing that he would be so good as to send for something that size simply because it meant so much to her. Later, they took a long stroll through the rose garden, and she began to talk to him. Really talk, sharing with him things about her Dad that she missed, things he'd taught her, stories of times she'd spent with him. To her delight, Devon also shared with her a few choice 'war stories' of her Dad's adventures with him in France. By the end of the walk she was laughing delightedly at the tales Devon was telling her, although she suspected he'd embellished them for comic effect.
He insisted they take tea in the library, and when she had finished hers, he presented her with a first edition copy of one of her favorite classic books, "The Scarlet Pimpernel". She couldn't decide if she should laugh or cry, and ended up doing a little of both.
"Dev-on," she complained mildly, looking him in the eye, "You have to stop this! I know you are glad that I'm no longer a raging maniac, but you are spoiling me terribly. What if I get used to this...great showering of attention on me and expect it every day?"
He smiled at her. "Then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. Alas, I cannot do this every day. I have neither the time nor the ability. But I have had several of these things set aside for you for some time. I've been waiting since then for the right time. I feel this is it. You know it goes against the grain to reward disobedience and disrespect. I certainly can, however, reward appropriate behavior if it's in my power to do so. Don't you agree?"
She nodded, looking down a little. With a deep sigh, she said, "Devon?"
"What?"
"Thank you for everything. You've been...wonderful through this entire, horrible ordeal. I'll never forget it."
"Good," he said, taking her hand. "I want you to remember the lengths I will go to to try to keep you happy." With a smile, he added, "Great for employee morale."
"And I will try to be the best assistant you've ever had. Your job entails quite enough stress without my adding to it by demanding constant attention."
Later that morning, the two of them called her mother and talked to her for quite a while. Bonnie thanked her profusely for the bed, and Mary was just as effusive in her thanks to Devon for 'whatever he did' that brought Bonnie back. Neither of them divulged many details, but she got the message that Bonnie had finally broken down and unburdened herself. The call ended with an open invitation for the two of them to fly up the next month, which was accepted by them both.
That night, as she settled down to sleep in her own bed for the first time in many months, she could still feel the warm spot on her cheek where Devon had kissed her goodnight. She smiled to herself as she remembered his softly spoken, "It's good to have you back."
She had to agree, it was good to be back. She hoped she would be right where she was now for a very long time.
When did Devon and Bonnie meet? How long have they known one another? Just how deep does their relationship go? And how did she get the job as Devon's right-hand assistant? This story, written years ago, tries to answer those questions. It actually occurs 5 or 6 years before the timeframe of my other story entitled "Greener Pastures". Any small discrepancies in the character development that might occur are due to time passing in my own life and do not necessarily reflect early onset senility on my part!
Filling Jack's Shoes
Bonnie Barstow had been young when she started to work for the Foundation for Law and Government. A computer genius and a straight "A" student, she had always been ahead of her peers in school. She graduated from high school at 16, and had begun M.I.T. the next fall. She showed herself superior in every way, and excelled to the point of being top in her class, graduating at the young age of 22 with a doctorate in cybernetics technology.
Devon had met her father, Jack Barstow, years before, during the war. They had forged a close bond during WWII as they had battled the Axis powers together while stationed in France. Years later, when Bonnie had been born, Jack had notified Devon. In fact, he had named Devon her godfather. He had not actually met Bonnie, however, until her graduation from high school. Devon had flown out to be there, and had been taken with her winsome ways even then. From the day they had met, she and Devon shared a bond of friendship and fellowship. They were surprised at how much they had in common: both were intensely loyal people, highly intelligent and well educated, both loved classical music (they were surprised to learn that Vivaldi was their favorite composer!), good literature, and the theatre. Their type of relationship was one rarely seen in the workplace and hard to describe, but suffice it to say, they were close. Highly impressed with her skill and her mind, he had offered her full funding for her education if she would consider coming to work for the Foundation after graduation. Devon knew she was nearly a custom fit for the job. She had jumped at the chance. The idea of being able to work on a project the size and scope of K.I.T.T. was a dream come true for her.
Devon had always been kind to Bonnie. The first Christmas after she came to work for him, he'd found her sitting on the back porch swing, crying softly to herself. Sitting next to her, he'd kindly asked enough probing questions to get her to laughingly confess that she was homesick. It was so warm in California, and while beautiful, she missed the snow. She apologized to him for putting a damper on the holiday for him. He'd asked with a small degree of mock sterness (she'd learned to read it by now) about her holiday, and she'd tried to laugh it off. But he was adamant. Two hours later they were in the Knight Industries jet, speeding toward Boston. She hated to fly, and he'd even given her a mild sedative so that she slept for several hours and arrived minus the jitters she usually had after flying. He'd then had her driven to her parents' house-a big surprise for them. They had insisted Devon stay, although he was wont to intrude.
"Anyone who's been so wonderful to my Bonnie-girl must stay with us," Dr. Jack Barstow had said. He always called her that, and Devon had smiled at how fitting the nickname was. She was definitely his girl, his pride and joy. She resembled her mother, Mary, especially those huge, smokey eyes they shared alike. But she got her personality entirely from Jack Barstow. Mary had said that they'd been almost inseparable when she was younger. He had hoped for a while that she would follow in his footsteps and become a doctor, but she swore she couldn't stand the sight of blood. Computers were her real love. She finally convinced him she wanted to pursue that line. He gave in to that, wanting her to be successful and happy. Devon assured him she was an asset. Jack had agreed as he gave his daughter a big hug and again welcomed her home. Besides, she was a doctor - just not a doctor of medicine!
Devon had enjoyed that weekend with them. Boston reminded him a little of England, and that holiday was somewhat reminiscent of those he'd had years ago as a boy. The memory of that week he and Bonnie shared was remembered fondly over the years.
The next time Devon flew her back to Boston, it was for Jack's funeral. It had been a very unexpected thing - he'd had a sudden heart attack and died within hours. Bonnie had taken the news very hard, but Devon noticed that she'd been nearly stoic through the entire ordeal. She didn't shed a tear at home, she slept on the plane, and sat, dry-eyed through the whole funeral. He worried she was in shock, and was terribly solicitous of her. Mary later told Devon he'd done everything but cut her meat on her plate for her. Two days after the funeral, Bonnie had insisted that they return to California. Her mother had wanted her to stay, but Bonnie told her that Colleen and Maggie, Bonnie's two sisters, would be there with her. They had both seemed to react more openly to Jack's death, and didn't quite understand Bonnie's quiet, internal grieving. Bonnie had smiled, kissed her mother on the cheek, and assured her that work was just what she needed.
Devon watched her return and throw herself into her work, working long hours and eating very little. After a week, he brought a tray into the study with a cup of broth and some toast. Then he didn't ask her, he told her, to eat.
"I'm not hungry," she'd told him.
"I realize that, " Devon acknowledged, "But you need to eat, nonetheless. You'll get sick."
"I'll...eat something later. Thank you."
"You'll eat now. I've heard that same phrase from you for several days now."
Bonnie set her jaw, and he knew her Irish temper was just below the surface. "I said I'd eat later, and I will."
"See here, girl! I'll not have my employees dropping like flies." He handed her the cup. "Take some."
In a temper at being forced to do something she really didn't want to do, she knocked it away, and consequently out of his hand. The cup went flying, broth spilling everywhere. The second it crashed to the floor, her large, frightened eyes looked up at him.
"Oh, Devon! I'm sorry...I didn't mean..." she began, jumping up and heading for the cup, which had broken, lying on the carpet.
Devon took her arm. "It's all right, Bonnie. You can be expected to be more...emotional than usual right now. It's only because I worry about you that I want you to eat."
She hung her head, looking truly ashamed of herself. "I haven't snapped like that in years," she said. "I...I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just eat something."
She stopped working long enough to eat one piece of toast and drink some tea. Then, she was back to business as usual.
Oddly, as the week progressed, Devon began to see her temper manifest itself in various ways. She snapped at Dr. VonVoorman, who told her something about KITT's laser ducts, and she replied, "I know that! Do you think I'm stupid?" After being told by the good doctor about her volatile reaction to his suggestion, Devon came into the lab. Dr. VonVoorman had been afraid he'd offended her, although Devon assured him that that was not the case.
Everyone at the lab was looking out for her, watching her, because Devon had issued an edict. Bonnie was now in a real danger of breaking down, so everyone had to be a support.
As Devon entered her lab he heard her saying to Darlene, a fellow worker, "I told you I don't want to go to lunch with you! What's wrong? Don't you understand English?"
Devon adored Bonnie, but he knew when enough was enough. "Bonnie," he said, kindly but firmly, "I'm sure Darlene wasn't trying to insult you by extending a luncheon invitation."
"She's insulting my senses by not taking 'no' for an answer!"
Darlene, in tears, turned to Devon. "I...I was just trying to help...like you said."
Smiling at her, Devon patted her shoulder. "And I appreciate it -- even if Bonnie doesn't."
"What does she mean, 'like you said'?" Bonnie asked, putting down her micro-torque. Devon nodded to Darlene, who gratefully took off. "You've told everybody here to take care of me, haven't you? Like I was a baby or something!"
He took her arm. "Come with me, Bonnie."
She jerked her arm away, but he did not put down his extended hand that was indicating the door. Jamming her fists into her lab coat, she stormed outside with Devon right behind her.
"In answer to your question, Bonnie, yes, I've told everyone to be especially kind to you. You've had a severe emotional blow, and although you're too stubborn to admit it, you are not over it yet."
Her eyes blazed with temper, and for a moment, he thought she'd have a tantrum right in front of him. "I am over it!" she insisted.
"You've not begun to get over it yet. In my mind, you haven't even recognized that there is a problem!"
"Then you are out of your mind!" she declared as she slammed out the door. He caught up with her and stopped her by exerting light pressure on her elbow. "Young lady, there is a limit to what I can be expected to take! As your employer, I'm entitled to respect! And, as your friend, I deserve better!"
She blushed a little at his scolding her, although she knew he was right. She opened her mouth to apologize, and he stopped her.
"I want you to come with me," he said. He began to walk, and she followed him. From the lab to the house, through the back gate, across a wooded area, he walked to a small house on the other side of the grounds. She followed, keeping up at first, but getting tired after the quarter mile walk. He unlocked the front door and held it open for her. Inside, it was a rustic cabin. She went inside, then turned puzzled eyes to him.
"I've never been here before."
"It's the guest quarters of the Foundation. Usually, guests stay at the house, but occasionally, someone needs a little more...space. Sit down."
She sat on the bed, feeling as though she'd been called into the principal's office. He looked down at her.
"Bonnie, until this issue is...resolved in your heart..." and here, her head came up to argue with him, but he went on, "I expect you to use this place as your...refuge. Your holding tank, your safe house. Whatever you choose to call it. If I see you jeopardizing your job - or your friends- I will tell you to go to the guest house. I will mean for you to stop what you are doing - or saying- and come here. I don't care what you are in the middle of." He sat next to her and put his arm around her. He wanted her to understand that her job could be on the line, although firing her was the last thing on his mind. He needed her there - she truly was invaluable as an employee. She had been more or less groomed for the job personally. He also knew that this job was all she was hanging on to and simply could not bring himself to jerk it out from under her. "It will be wisdom on your part to do as I say. You are far too valuable an employee to lose your job over insubordination," he told her quietly.
"How long will I have to stay out here?" she asked with a little sniff.
"Until you've calmed down."
"Why don't you just send me to my room? Or make me go stand in a corner?" she flared.
"Don't think those thoughts haven't entered my mind the last few days - and a few others, besides." He gently placed a light kiss on her forehead. "But those sound like punishments, don't they? This isn't. It's a way of helping you...deal with stress until life becomes easier for you."
She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm sorry I was so...rude to you. You're really very understanding."
He patted her shoulder. "Don't mention it. Are you ready to get back to work?" She nodded, and he escorted her back to the lab, where she apologized to Darlene, but still refused to go to lunch.
It was over a week later when she threw a CPU board at the wall because she couldn't get it to work. Devon looked up at her and said, "Bonnie, this would be a good time for you to go to the guest house."
Face flaming, she almost shouted,"NO!" at him, but she loved her job. It was her driving force, all that was keeping her going. If she lost that, she'd truly have nothing. So out she flew. Oddly, though, the California sun, the birds, and the exercise did their job. She got half way to the guest house and felt much better. She came back, picked up the pieces, and started over. She was surprised when everything fit perfectly, and it worked.
Since the results from that were so good, the next time he told her to go, she went almost willingly. This time, she made it all the way before turning to come back.
"Touch base and come home", she'd murmured.
For weeks, they went through the exercise. Devon, who had a vast patience, was beginning to worry. Rather than helping her clear her head, she seemed to be picking fights just to get out of difficult situations. That wouldn't do. She had to learn to deal with people again. Finally, after four weeks of 'therapy', during which time she was sent out eight times (and the frequency was getting closer together), he changed the tactic somewhat. He now made her stay there at least 10 minutes. Once she tried coming back early, but he had it timed. That time he sent her back. With a combined walk of nearly a mile within 15 minutes, she was exhausted. When she didn't return, he went looking for her. He found her sleeping on the bed. He knew she needed sleep, so he let her stay. Several hours later she returned, acting like her old self. He thought it was working. But he was using a BandAid for a wound that needed a tourniquet.
Chapter Two - Devon Takes the Plunge
That his 'cooling off' theory wasn't working was brought home to him several months after her father's funeral. He saw her sitting on the glider by the pool,staring at the water and looking very forlorn. Going out, he sat next to her. For a few minutes, neither one spoke. Then, quietly, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Her head snapped around. "Talk about what?" she asked.
"Whatever it is that's bothering you."
"Why do you think something's bothering me?"
"Oh, merely the...expression on your face."
"I guess now I'll have to get a new face! Plastic surgery!" she snapped.
"Please don't," he tried to soothe her. "A face as lovely as yours only comes along once in a while."
She tossed down the pillow she was holding. "God, you're depressing!" she told him.
He frowned. "I'm sorry. It was meant to be a compliment."
"Well, I'm sick of them. Eveyone is so nice - and sweet - and kind - it's nauseating!"
"Everyone cares about you."
"Baloney! They care about their jobs. I know you gave orders to everyone to 'take care of me'. A bunch of babysitters! We're trying to get this project out on time and I'm being treated like an injured child!" she ranted on.
"Only perhaps because you've been behaving like one," Devon replied with just a little firmness.
Her eyes opened wide. She was incensed. Standing up, she flared, "How dare you...!"
He stood up to face her. "I dare...because I care about you. I'm only telling you the truth. And you know it."
"Do I?" she yelled
"Lower your voice," he commanded her.
"I'll yell if I want to! I've been living in a mausoleum for months! I have a temper! I have feelings! You snap your fingers and expect me to jump - like a dog!"
Devon normally would have censured her severely for such an outburst, but he was sensing that, perhaps, the dam that stopped up her feelings was about to burst, so he wanted to encourage her expresssons.
"You have a temper - you're telling me!" he said back. "I've known you for years, yet I've never before experienced the outbursts, the insults, the out and out temper tantrums you've carried on the past few weeks. And I must say, my patience is wearing very thin."
This was all said to her with much control and no emotion, and she seemed to step back from him for a moment.
"Your patience!" she repeated with heavy sarcasm. "Patience is restraint. What are you restraining? You have no temper. You seem to have no soul. Just one huge soft spot in your heart. Or your head."
She could offer no reason, even to herself, for why she was finding his loving patience so difficult to take. He'd been so kind and gentle with her, but always with a detached, impersonal air that she could find no real complaint. But subconsciously, she knew she was fighting with all her being substituting Devon Miles in her heart for Jack Barstow. She felt guilty and disloyal, and was taking it out on everyone around her.
She also desperately wanted Devon to fill the void Jack had left. For a certainty, there was no way her father would have allowed the behaviour she had been exhibiting lately. To be kind was good. But to allow her to be wild and uncontrolled and continue to be kind was not what she wanted nor what she needed. She wanted him to fill Jack Barstow's shoes. To show the backbone and courage he had. At that moment, she asked herself what it was that she wanted from him, but she didn't know. Only that his scolding her was always followed by a hug, a kiss, or a compliment - as if to let her know he didn't want her to take it too seriously. Devon looked at her and said, "If I do have a soft spot in my heart, for you, consider it a blessing right now."
With one, final, desperate act of rebellion, she moved to the edge of the pool. Then, with a great shove, she pushed him into the water. She saw him surface, saw the look in his eye, and spun on her heel. As she tromped across the concrete to the steps down to the yard, she looked over her shoulder and called:
"Don't tell me to go to the guest house. I figured that one out for myself!" With that, she stormed off down the steps and across the green in the direction of the cabin.
After hauling himself out of the pool, Devon stood flinging water off his hands and staring after her. He wanted nothing so much as to follow her and show her how wrong she was! In actuality, he had a fierce Irish temper himself. He'd learned over the years to control it nearly to perfection. But one beautiful, troubled, headstrong young woman was closer to causing him to lose it than years of fighting criminals had been.
Chapter 3 -A Bomb at Dinner
Shaking his head to try to eliminate the water running off of his hair and onto his shoulders, he headed into the house to dry off and change clothes. Blast the girl, he'd ruined a brand new tie! He changed into a different suit, then sat in his study staring at the telephone as if it held an answer for him. Finally, he picked up the receiver and called Mary Barstow. He asked pointed questions and got lengthy answers. Answers to questions concerning her early childhood (she was extremely pleasant), her dispensation towards tantrums (never), and most of all, her relationship with Jack. He knew that somehow, all of this came back to Jack Barstow. After talking to Mary for 15 minutes, he saw why. And, perhaps, he even saw how. He asked how she'd been doing, and she revealed that she'd cried several times since the funeral, and was now doing better. She asked directly about Bonnie, and he frowned.
"She's yet to cry, Mary."
"Devon, it's been over three months!"
"I know, I know," he sighed. "It's been far too long. I've allowed it to go on for weeks longer than I should have."
" 'It'?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing I can't handle."
Mary sight. "Devon, I know my daughter. I love her. I know you do, too. But I'm very worried about her. She worshipped Jack, and although she's never been what I would call emotional, it doesn't seem right that after all of this time, she still hasn't grieved openly for the loss of this man who was the center of her world!" Then, her voice lowered, as though she was trying to prevent being overheard. "I don't want to betray a confidence, but she stood in my kitchen and told me that next to Jack, she loved and respected you more than any man she's ever known."
He was quiet at that. As the pause lengthened, she called, "Devon? Are you there?"
"Yes, I'm here. I'm sorry. I was just thinking. I suppose if I'm going to fill those shoes I need to just step into them. She needs it now."
He could hear the smile in her voice. "Why am I not worried as much about her now? I'm glad she has you there. I'd be very concerned if she didn't."
"Don't worry. I'll take care of her. Personally. And Mary?" he asked.
"What?"
"I promise you, whatever I feel I have to do, I'll only do it because I treasure the girl. I love her, and if I have to get very...firm with her, it's because I care and want to help her."
"Devon, you're both adults. You don't need my permission to help my daughter in any way you think is right. As far as I'm concerned, she's your girl now. I trust you to do the right thing, and to take care of her."
He smiled. "Thank you. You've relieved my mind greatly."
"Thank you for calling, Devon."
"Give my love to the girls. And I hope the next time I call to have much better news."
"Great. Good-bye."
He hung up, and again stared at the phone. He had been nearly an hour, getting dressed, completing the call,etc. Now he walked out to the guest house with mixed emotions. He was still peeved with her behaviour, but mostly he wanted to see her happy again. He knocked. No answer. He called. No anwer. He opened the door. The place was empty. A panic filled his heart. He went to the phone and called security. She hadn't left the grounds. A check found that she was working in the lab. He hurried over there. Opening the door to the hallway, he saw the light under the door. He opened the door to her lab and found her sitting on a stool, staring into a microscope.
"So. Here you are," he said softly. She looked up quickly and gasped in surprise. She didn't expect him there, and swallowed nervously. Too embarrassed about her recent bad behaviour to say much, she stammered, "Yeah, I...uh...I thought I might get some work done. You know...alone."
"Yes, I know. Sometimes, I get the most accomplished after everyone's in bed." Then, trying to bridge a problem, he said, "But there are...rules about working alone at night."
"Please, Devon. I'm not a child." She glanced down, then up. "Even if I have been behaving like one lately. I'll be fine. Security's here."
"I know, " he said. He had been the one who had sent them there, though he didn't want her to know that. "You...haven't forgotten that we are to attend a dinner party with Mr. Knight at 8:00?"
"No, I...I haven't forgotten."
Wilton Knight was wanting a chance to show Bonnie off to some important supporters of the Foundation, and to some younger people who were interested in their work there. Devon had warned him that this might not be a good time for her, but did agree that the diversion would be good for her. He'd intentionally placed her next to a young man, an engineer from Stanford who was among the visitors. Hopefully, they'd hit it off. Devon looked at her now.
"Are you tired?"
" A little. I'll be fine. I'll be at dinner at 8:00. Sharp. I promise."
That was an obvious send-off, so he left, trusting her to keep her word.
She did. She showed up at 7:55 at Wilton Knight's office, where the three of them met to go into the dining room. Devon held her chair and then took the seat opposite her. He studied her. She was, frankly, absolutely stunning. Her dark hair was pulled back but not put up. Her dress was modest but elegant in a deep peach satin, skirted with several layers of peach chiffon. But the sparkle that her eyes usually held was gone.
The other guests arrived and took their places. The young engineer who sat next to Bonnie was very attractive, but he was, in Devon's estimation, a jerk. He chewed his lip a bit. This one was a facer. He could hardly change the seating arrangements now, and he could see Bonnie trying to ignore him. Even as the wine was poured, she looked strained to keep her temper in check.
"I'm finishing my masters at Stanford," he told her.
She smiled at him tolerantly. "That's nice." She took a sip of wine.
"I got my bachelor's degree from UCLA. I tell ya, west coast colleges are the greatest! You hear a lot about the Ivy League schools, but give me the west coast every time."
Trying not to lose her temper, but wanting to get away from this man who had just slammed her alma mater, she gave him a phony laugh. Devon caught her eye and shook his head. She bit her lip. Devon nervously glanced at Wilton Knight, who was watching her with pride, and totally unaware of the bomb about to be dropped at his dinner party.
"Where did you train?" the young man, Rob Wester, asked her with total disinterest in her answer.
With a killer smile, she said, through her teeth, "M...I...T." Rob's face brightened as he said, "Oh, wow! I'm impressed."
Bonnie nodded with mock sincerity. "Oh, I am so happy I was able to impress you, Mr. Wester. However, let me tell you something. I didn't 'train' anywhere. I'm not an electrical engineer or a general flunky. I'm not even a common computer programmer. I am a cybernetics technician specializing in computer generation. I have my doctorate. So don't condescend to me, all right?"
Devon cringed at the venom in her voice, but really became nervous when he heard Rob reply:
"Gee, I was only making conversation. Don't be so touchy. It's just that...well...everyone knows that Stanford is the #1 school in the country!" He seemed unaware of her distress.
"Really?" she asked. Leaning over, she dislodged his soup bowl, which had just been filled, into his lap. "Which country is that?"
Devon jumped up and said to Rob, "Oh, I'm sorry! I 'm sure that was an accident."
Rob, mopping up the mess in his lap with his napkin, said, "It's okay." Then, looking at Bonnie, he said, "You sure are jittery!" Just as Devon was sitting back down, Rob went on with the brilliant query, "Who died?"
Bonnie stood up. "This is no accident!" she exclaimed, and emptied her wine glass over his head.
Devon's first act was to look up at Wilton Knight to see how he was reacting to this very disturbing behaviour on Bonnie's part. Miraculously, he was gone, and so was the server. Apparently, there had been a problem in the kitchen. The next item on his mental agenda was to say to Bonnie, "Miss Barstow, I need to see you in the hall. Now."
She headed for the door after throwing her napkin onto the table, with fire in her eyes. To Rob Wester, he said, "I'm sure we are all glad that you didn't go to work for the state department." Rob Wester looked confused. Devon continued. "I do apologize for her actions. But she misses Boston terribly. And her father's just died."
"Oh, man, I'm sorry. I wish I'd known. I'm from Connecticut myself."
"Why couldn't you have brought that up over the first course?" Devon asked pointedly. "Excuse me - I'm needed elsewhere." With that he left to find Bonnie fuming in the hallway.
He approached her with indignation. "How dare you behave in such a manner to a guest of the Foundation?"
"He's a jerk," Bonnie responded, as if that justified an all-out attack at a party.
"I agree. But you can't go through life attacking every jerk you meet. How many jerks have I had to entertain in my lifetime?" Devon asked her, trying to prove a point.
"Is that a rhetorical question, or do you want an answer?"
"What I want, Miss Barstow, is for you to go in there and apologize to that young man."
"I won't do it!" she shot back at him.
"You will do it!" he insisted in a tone that implied no arguments. "You will do it because you are a representative of the Foundation - however tenuously - and you have insulted a dinner guest. If Wilton Knight had seen it, you'd have been summarily fired! He won't tolerate rudeness from his employees - even those he loves dearly!"
Bonnie looked a little nonplussed. "Mr. Knight...loves me?"
"And he's not the only one!" Devon added for her benefit, in complete contrast to the tone he was using with her. Then he fixed her with a look she'd never seen on his face before. "And, my dear, after you have apologized to Mr. Wester and the rest of our guests, you will march yourself out to the guesthouse. This time, you will wait for me. Once I get there, we will settle this - once and for all. Do not leave without apologizing. Now scoot!"
She watched his face reflecting his extreme disappointment with her. Her huge eyes, filled with apprehension and uncertainty, met his. She was slightly unnerved by the look of resigned determination on his face. She could barely nod. She knew she was about to be fired. Her heart was pounding in her chest. He turned to leave, and she watched his retreating back. Chills ran down her spine. This had all the earmarks of a "Go to your room!", no matter how he tried to paint it.
With flushed cheeks, she took a deep breath and forced herself to go back inside. The brief apology, though difficult, eased her guilt a little.
"I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid my nerves are shot. I...haven't been well, and if you'll excuse me, I think I'll retire for the evening."
With a nod from Wilton Knight, she headed down the hall and toward the door, angry with Devon for making her apologize, yet respecting him enormously for standing his ground. She looked up at the hallway. This was probably the last time she'd ever see this magnificent house. She loved it. Why had she been so hateful and hard to deal with? It was not her nature. This time, she was dreading the walk out to the guest house. She didn't want to go. Devon, however, had been quite definite about it, and for once, she was loathe to disobey him. On the trek out to the cabin, her legs felt like lead. Her head was swimming. She felt sure that she would faint. Finally she arrived, scared and edgy. How could she have been so stupid as to cause this trouble? she wondered. Yet she realized the past few months had been a series of stupid actions on her part. No matter how hard she'd tried, she'd not been able to get rid of the anger and resentment she felt toward everyone, and Devon in particular. He'd been so patient with her the last few months and she'd somehow resented it. Now that it seemed that his patience was exhausted, she missed it.
Devon went back in to the guests and behind Wilton. Then he whispered into Wilton's ear:
"I'm going to take Bonnie home for the night. She has really pushed herself to her limit. I'm afraid she is in need of some extended...therapy." Wilton, thinking that Devon was referring to her physical condition, readily agreed. He'd noticed that there was a bond between the two of them, although he didn't know quite what that was. With the words, "I'll be back." he left to take care of this most delicate problem.
Chapter 4 - Let's Settle This...
When he reached the guest house, he saw the light on and knew that she was already there. Knowing she was nervous, he intentionally waited a few more minutes, letting her stew. Then he quickly opened the door. Bonnie, absently paging through a magazine she'd found on a table, dropped it to the floor and jumped up. For a long moment, Devon stood there staring at her. He was in complete control of the situation. She stared back at him wide-eyed. She was nervous, he could tell. It was about time that she felt something other than contempt for him. Fear wasn't exactly what he would have desired her to feel, but it was better than disdain.
With a big gulp, she swallowed. "What..." she began, shivering inside, "what are you going to do? "
"Something I'd rather not do."
That confirmed her suspicions. He was going to fire her on the spot.
He continued, "And something I...don't really believe in doing. But, Bonnie, you've forced my hand."
She looked confused. Since when did Devon not believe in firing people?
Bonnie was, quite frankly, scared half to death right now. Devon had not gotten angry with her once since she'd come here, no matter how angry she had gotten with him. Now that the roles were reversed, she didn't like it. Why did he have to pick now to 'settle this once and for all'? She tried to assuage his anger.
"I...I'm..." She gulped. This was hard. "I'm sorry."
He pulled at his ear a little. "Yes, I imagine you are right now."
She wanted to say something else, but her throat was dry. She swallowed nervously and stood staring at him with her enormous eyes, waiting for him to continue.
"Bonnie," he said calmly, "for three months you have been moping around here, throwing tantrums and anything else you could lay your hands on. You are brilliant. One of the most competent people I have ever met, with Spartan self-control. Yet for months, it seems to me, you have been asking me...no, make that begging me...to stop this rampage you're on. For most of that time, I have been the object of your derision. I was more than willing to take it for as long as you needed to give it out. But tonight you crossed a line: you attacked a guest of the Foundation. That I cannot ignore."
She paled. In a small voice, she asked, "What are you gonna do?"
He unbuttoned his jacket and took it off, laying it on the back of the black leather chair in the corner. Her eyes followed everything he was doing. Turning toward her and taking a few steps, he said, "For all of this time, your behaviour has been on a par with a tired, unruly three year old child who is misbehaving to get attention. I think it is way past time that I give you this spanking that you seem - for reasons of your own - to so desperately want me to give you."
She felt her face flush, but she couldn't say anything. She knew he was absolutely right. That was exactly how she had been acting. Actually, how she had been feeling. There was a war inside of her for all this time between wanting to please him, to have his approval, and wanting to test him, to push him to see how much he would take before he snapped. Testing had won out. In her wildest dreams, though, she never thought he would resort to this! She doubted that this could be what lay at the root of her attacks on him over the months. After all, her father had never spanked her. But for some reason, for the first time in several months, she didn't feel like fighting him any more. However, she felt obligated to protest.
"Oh!" she squeaked. "You...you can't do that to me, Devon!"
"Of course I can, " he said lightly as he stood in front of her. "I'm bigger than you are."
"But, Devon..." she whined, feeling a hard lump in her throat that hurt to swallow.
"Hush, now, none of that. You've worked hard to earn this, Bonnie. You won't be denied collecting what you deserve. I care for you far too much to let this continue any further. I am only sorry that I didn't do it sooner - it would have saved all of us a lot of trouble!"
Her lip began to quiver, but she determined that no matter what he did to her, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Oddly enough, her crying was exactly what his goal was. No one else except Bonnie herself knew how badly she needed to cry to rid herself of months of pent up raw emotion. Whether or not she cried in front of him, though, was not important to him.
At the moment, giving in and just letting him do this was preferable to her to a huge fight she was probably going to lose anyway. Maybe just getting this over with quickly would stop the hot rush of blood to her face, the pounding of her heart, and the jitters she could not get rid of. She hoped she could come away with at least a fraction of her dignity intact.
Devon pulled her to him firmly but not roughly and sat on the bed. With one motion he pulled her down to lay across his lap, with her top half on the bed and her feet just off the flooor. He began to toss back layers of peach chiffon until he reached the satin underslip of her dress. Mortified and speechless, she could only gasp as she felt his large hand raise up high, then descend with a resounding "smack". His hand continued to fall in a series of loud, stinging slaps that forced yelps of protest from her throat, in spite of her determination not to.
When he finished with her, he stood her down and then stood up himself. She turned her back to him, fighting tears. The spanking he'd administered had not been terribly hard, nor had it been extremely painful. It had been more of a stinging humiliation, and they were both aware of that fact. Now he wanted to leave before the tears began - and he knew they would.
He strode to the chair and picked up his jacket. As he put it on, he told her:
"Now. You stay out here tonight. Going without eating dinner might also help you remember how to behave at the table. I shall come and collect you for breakfast in the morning. We still have quite a few things to get settled." He saw her shiver, and he smiled at her back. "You might be surprised at how pleasant things may turn out." He walked to the door, turned, and said, "I'll see you in the morning." And with that, he was gone.
He returned to the party, appearing charming and gracious, but his mind kept straying to the cabin. How he wished she had been 3 years old! That way, he could hold her in his lap and rock her and comfort her, as he wished. But right now, this young woman needed time alone to think about things. To cry. Even to brood if she wanted to. He hoped tomorrow that their talk might ease her pain somewhat.
Bonnie stood in the same place she was when he left, fighting what even she knew was a losing battle. Slowly she turned to stare at the closed door, not believing quite yet that he had actually done what he had, and then left her there alone for the rest of the night. She rubbed at the smarting he'd inflicted for a moment, rooted to the spot. Then, two tears started down her cheeks, then two more, and soon she collapsed onto the bed and sobbed. She cried because of the pain and embarrassment Devon had caused her, out of resentment and frustration at his hurting her and leaving her. But mostly, she cried out of a tremendous sense of loss for Jack Barstow. At last the dam had burst, and it was a long, long time before she managed to get herself together. It took nearly an hour and a box of tissues before she was through.
Her first coherent thought after that was that the hard lump in her throat was gone. Sobs continued to catch in her throat for a long time, punctuating her breathing. She felt like an exhausted child who was too tired to sleep. She wanted to cry again, but found that she was all cried out. And now, to her dismay, she was hungry! She hadn't wanted to eat for months. Surely Devon's whacking her hadn't peaked her appetite! She was confused and totally worn out both physically and emotionally. She got up and went into the bathroom, discovering that it was fully stocked with fresh toiletry items. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. Finding a clean t-shirt hanging on the hook on the back of the door, she put it on, then came out and hung her dress over the back of the couch. As she crawled into the bed, all she really knew was that she was shaky and insecure and didn't want to spend the night in the guest house. For some crazy reason (to her) she wanted Devon to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. But she seemed to have completely ruined her relationship with him by pushing him past his limit. Her father was dead, and now Devon wanted nothing to do with her. The light was turned off, and she suddenly discovered a whole new batch of tears. She cried into her pillow for a long time, then pulled the box of tissues on the table next to her onto the bed. She used the few remaining sheets to try to dry her eyes and blow her nose. And then, she nearly passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Chapter 5 - The Load is Lighter
The sun was streaming in through the window the next morning when Devon knocked on the door of the cabin. Bonnie answered it with a sleepy, "Come in." He opened the door, completely dressed, and registered a little surprise that she was still in bed.
"It's after 8:00. I thought I'd be in trouble for making you wait so long," Devon said with a smile.
She stretched lazily, and smiled back. It felt good to smile. "Devon, you'd have to work awfully hard to ever be in trouble with me." She sat up. "I'm just worried about keeping out of trouble with you."
"My dear, you could never be 'in trouble' with me. I understand you all too well."
She rubbed her touselled hair, looking confused. "Wasn't I in trouble with you last night? Or did I just dream it?"
"You were never in trouble. You merely required some...extended therapy. I believe you're better this morning. I haven't seen that sparkle in your eyes in a while."
"You put it there," she said frankly. Then, "Are you still mad at me?"
He crossed to the bed. "No," he said, sitting down and holding her for a moment. "Are you still angry with me?"
Into his shoulder, she mumbled, "I never was."
"Ha!" he replied, rubbing her head before releasing her. "Well, that may be true. I suppose you were really just very frustrated that I wouldn't...be your daddy and make you behave."
She blushed. "I'm sorry I had to make you...beat me before I listened to you."
"I didn't beat you, Bonnie. I spanked you. There's a vast difference."
"In any case, Devon, you're not my father, and you shouldn't have to 'make me' behave."
"No, I shouldn't. But I did. At least, I did last night." He rubbed her back a moment. At his touch, she closed her eyes, smelling his cologne, feeling the tweed of his jacket. Brushing her hand across his shoulder, she confessed, "My Dad always wore tweed, just like you. And, he was a stickler for manners. He would have been horrified at how I acted last night. I'm sorry." When he didn't say anything, she went on. "He used perfect grammar." Her forehead came down on his shoulder with a soft 'thud'. "I care so much for you, and it isn't right."
"And why not? Don't I love you as my own daughter?"
"That's all right for you, Devon. You don't have a daughter of your own."
"And you are in need of a father. We really can help one another."
"I feel so...disloyal to him," she said, her voice threatening tears. He reached for his handkerchief and dried her eyes.
"Bonnie, you are one of the most loyal persons I have ever met."
"I am?"
"You've been miserable for months because you won't let yourself let go of Jack Barstow. I understand, my dear. No one can ever take his place, and shouldn't. But I do intend to try to take care of you as he would want. And that includes being very firm with you on matters of importance, and trying to spoil you the rest of the time." He raised her face, inches from his own, and looked into her eyes. "And if there are any more tantrums from you, young lady, I will act swiftly - regardless of where we are. So you'd better work on checking that temper of yours. Because the one person around here with a stronger will than you is me!"
She flushed at his soft-spoken promise. And she had no doubt that he meant it anymore. He was neither the pushover nor the marshmallow she'd had him pegged for. And she admired him all the more for the kindness he'd been showing her for months. Realizing how tempted he'd been to step in and put an end to her foolishness made her appreciate it, rather than resent it. She felt she should apologize to him for her atrocious actions.
"Devon, about my...behavior the past few months. I...I know I haven't been the easiest person in the world to get along with. I really appreciate your patience with me, and I...I...don't really blame you for finally putting your foot down. I...realize I have no right to be...attacking other people, and I truly was ashamed of myself for what I did to poor Rob Wester last night. I've certainly dealt with my share of jerks before, but I don't...physically attack them!"
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "My dear, I accept your apology. And please, don't waste another minute worrying about last night. The guests seemed pleased when they left, and Mr. Wester agreed to return in a few weeks. I...think perhaps I shall seat myself between you two next time!"
She laughed as the clock chimed 8:30. She looked at Devon with a slight panic.
"Oh! I...I forgot about breakfast! You shouldn't have let me go on for so long. If you want to wait, I will hurry and get ready. I've kept you waiting too long as it is. Let me just..." she began, starting to get up. He shook his head.
"Don't rush. I'm delighted you slept so well. It's been a long time since you've slept all night."
"How do you know that?" she asked.
"I'm like The Shadow. I know everything."
"Then do you now what I'm to wear, since I came in here in a formal dress, and now I..."
"I don't mind you in robe and slippers if you feel like it. I've given you the morning off - and don't argue with me. You're going to need it."
"All right," she agreed, puzzled. She felt like she was in trouble again, but he seemed to be delighted with her.
Then, crossing to the armoire, he said, "But, if you prefer..." and opened it to reveal a beautiful rust colored sweater and pair of slacks hanging inside. Her eyes widened.
"I was looking at that the other day in the window at..."
"I'll wait outside for you. Take your time - I've something to do anyway."
As soon as the door closed behind him, she threw back the covers and bailed out of bed. Going to the armoire, she pulled out the outfit she'd lingered over at Bloomingdale's just the week before. If Devon knew, how? Apparently, he'd been keeping up with her more than she dreamed possible. She went into the bathroom and took a quick shower, squeaking as she realized that the hot water didn't get as hot in the guest house. She toweled off and eagerly put on the pants outfit. It fit her to a "T". She couldn't help admiring herself in the mirror. The color was perfect. Just as she was ready to pad to the door, she looked around for shoes. Her dyed peach satin heels were out of the question, and so were the slippers next to the bed. There, in the bottom of the armoire, were a pair of terracotta flats that went perfectly. Shaking her head at this generous gift, she slipped them on her feet and fairly flew out the door, clipping her hair back as she did. She walked down the path and met Devon coming toward her. She ran up to him and hugged him. "Oh, Devon, it's so beautiful!" she told him concerning his gift of clothing.
"So are you," he said, handing her a rose he'd cut from the garden. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he escorted her to the back terrace of the main house. There was breakfast for two, fresh flowers - all the amenities she'd expect from Devon Miles. He held her chair and she sat, looking at him.
"I'm hungry. Can you believe it? I haven't been hungry in ages."
"I know that, too. Remember, I'm the one you shied the cup at when I tried to get you to eat."
She blushed deeply, saying, "Devon, I am so sorry. I've really been a brat lately. I don't know how you put up with it for so long. I couldn't stand myself." She took a sip of coffee and, coloring slightly, mumbled, "You should have smacked me weeks ago."
He laughed and covered her hand with his. "Bonnie, what I did to you last night was merely the catalyst. What made you feel better was the good cry you had afterwards."
"How do you know I had a good cry?"
"You nearly had it before I left," he told her. Then he added, "And the empty tissue box and the ashcan full of discarded tissues were giveaways." She shrugged at his obvious deduction and he went on."You've been carrying around a huge load. Last night, we merely found a more comfortable way to carry it. First, you had to get rid of your...excess emotional baggage. Today the load is lighter. And it will continue to get lighter, I promise you."
"I believe you," she said. Then, looking at the table, she exclaimed, "Oh, Wow! Strawberries!" And she proceeded to eat half a dozen of them, plus eggs and toast. When he was satisfied that she'd had enough, he finished what was on his plate.
Pouring her another cup of coffee, he asked, "Now. Are you ready to tackle some unfinished business?"
"Sure. FLAG business?" she asked.
"No - personal business," he answered.
She nodded, paling a little and her eyes becoming rounder. He laughed outright.
"Guilt is a great motivater. But, please, I told you last night - this will be good stuff."
She nodded again.
"First off, I want to tell you again how...vibrant and wonderful you look. Please take care of yourself."
"I will."
"Secondly, KITT is nearly ready to roll. Wilton thinks he might have found a young man that works in with our plans. So I want to offer you the job of being my...personal assistant."
"Devon!" she breathed. "After the way I've been treating you?"
"It's all in the past."
"But, why me?"
There's no one else here as qualified as you. No one I trust as much. No one else I care so much for. We work together hand in glove. And, I can keep an eye on you that way."
"From what I've seen, you've been keeping a pretty close eye on me anyway."
"I've tried...In any case, it will mean putting in long hours, and being devoted to taking care of KITT. And, once he becomes operational, being willing to travel wherever we're needed in the mobile unit."
"Devon, nothing would make me happier. Seriously. It's...it's what I've dreamed of."
He smiled again. "Is this all right so far?"
"Uh-huh," she laughed.
"My, I've missed that laugh," he told her. She demured.
"And, I'd also like to know if you'd be interested in attending the symphony with me."
"When?" she asked, definitely interested.
He laid an envelope in front of her. "Season tickets. It's not the Pops, but they're very good."
She and her dad used to go to the symphony every year she was at M.I.T. Season tickets to the Boston Pops every year. She couldn't hold back the tears. In a flash, Devon was around the table,and pulled her up into his arms. Cradling her head, he held her and rocked her, encouraging her to 'cry it out'. She did, but found it much easier now to cry - and to stop. He dried her eyes.
"Is that a yes? Or a no?"
"A definite yes," she replied, as he released her.
"Fine. Are you ready to move on here?"
"I don't know. I have a very full heart right now."
He touched her shoulder. "Exactly how I want it."
He led her into the house, her hand linked through his arm - a habit continuing for years. He took her up to her bedroom and opened the door. There was her bed - her fourposter bed - just delivered from her parents' house in Boston and assembled that morning. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking with delight. And then she did the one thing she'd wanted to do since the night before. She turned around, grabbed Devon around the neck, and began to shed copious tears, but these were of joy. He held her for a long time, rubbing her back and making shushing sounds, trying to soothe her. She pulled back, her damp cheeks glistening in the light from the window.
"I haven't told you this in a very long time, but I love you, Devon Miles. You are the kindest, most loving, most thoughtful man I know. I'm very proud to be working for you - and that you consider me a friend. Promise me that if I ever start treating you like I have the past few months, that you'll...I don't know...do...something right away! Don't let me go nuts for months. Please."
"I promise, although I doubt very seriously that either one of us will ever have to go through that experience again. It was, I hope, a one time emotional ordeal. You are the very best girl I know. And for the record, I love you, too."
Smiling up at him, she nodded. "I know."
She spent a few minutes checking out the bed, still not quite believing that he would be so good as to send for something that size simply because it meant so much to her. Later, they took a long stroll through the rose garden, and she began to talk to him. Really talk, sharing with him things about her Dad that she missed, things he'd taught her, stories of times she'd spent with him. To her delight, Devon also shared with her a few choice 'war stories' of her Dad's adventures with him in France. By the end of the walk she was laughing delightedly at the tales Devon was telling her, although she suspected he'd embellished them for comic effect.
He insisted they take tea in the library, and when she had finished hers, he presented her with a first edition copy of one of her favorite classic books, "The Scarlet Pimpernel". She couldn't decide if she should laugh or cry, and ended up doing a little of both.
"Dev-on," she complained mildly, looking him in the eye, "You have to stop this! I know you are glad that I'm no longer a raging maniac, but you are spoiling me terribly. What if I get used to this...great showering of attention on me and expect it every day?"
He smiled at her. "Then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. Alas, I cannot do this every day. I have neither the time nor the ability. But I have had several of these things set aside for you for some time. I've been waiting since then for the right time. I feel this is it. You know it goes against the grain to reward disobedience and disrespect. I certainly can, however, reward appropriate behavior if it's in my power to do so. Don't you agree?"
She nodded, looking down a little. With a deep sigh, she said, "Devon?"
"What?"
"Thank you for everything. You've been...wonderful through this entire, horrible ordeal. I'll never forget it."
"Good," he said, taking her hand. "I want you to remember the lengths I will go to to try to keep you happy." With a smile, he added, "Great for employee morale."
"And I will try to be the best assistant you've ever had. Your job entails quite enough stress without my adding to it by demanding constant attention."
Later that morning, the two of them called her mother and talked to her for quite a while. Bonnie thanked her profusely for the bed, and Mary was just as effusive in her thanks to Devon for 'whatever he did' that brought Bonnie back. Neither of them divulged many details, but she got the message that Bonnie had finally broken down and unburdened herself. The call ended with an open invitation for the two of them to fly up the next month, which was accepted by them both.
That night, as she settled down to sleep in her own bed for the first time in many months, she could still feel the warm spot on her cheek where Devon had kissed her goodnight. She smiled to herself as she remembered his softly spoken, "It's good to have you back."
She had to agree, it was good to be back. She hoped she would be right where she was now for a very long time.