Reunion at the Tag Agency
Booth was home on two weeks of R&R leave from Afghanistan. Sending a soldier back stateside was very unusual, but his accomplishments in the last six months in country had astounded his superiors, who knew how reluctant he was to re-up. The Afghan troops in Booth's training program met readiness goals ahead of schedule. On several missions, his sure aim had brought down several elusive high-value targets expertly identified by his well-prepared native squads. So this exception to their rule was Booth's reward for a job excellently well-done.
He headed straight for Pop's house, knowing that in Bones' absence, seeing his grandfather was the next best medicine for his drooping spirits. The old man had several tasks on his weekly to-do list, and Booth took off in Pop's pickup to knock those out before taking him to Rosie's for 'America widout" at lunchtime. He headed for the nearest tag agency to renew the truck's license plate for his grand-dad.
Booth groaned as he swung into the crowded parking lot, and winced as he went inside. The line of people waiting for service snaked across the lobby. He resigned himself to waiting awhile, and pulled out his phone to text Rebecca about picking up Parker the next morning. Never one to enjoy idleness, Booth shifted from one foot to the other, drummed his fingers on his jeans, and studied the crowd around him. He grinned to himself, imagining a conversation with Brennan, hearing her anthropological opinions in his head.
Suddenly, a woman talking caught his attention. Her slightly nasal voice, and thick Philly accent took him back to high school, in the hallways and lunchroom, under the football stadium bleachers, on a sleeping bag. Sherry Bellafini…! The name slipped out of his mouth without him even realizing he had spoken.
A familiar head of dark curly hair appeared over the shoulder of an short elderly lady. A face as well-remembered as his Grams stared at him in complete surprise. "Seels? Whatcha doin' heer? Hah long yagonna bearown?"
Booth smiled at his long-ago first girlfriend, who had two little girls by the hand, and a winsome little boy on her hip. "I'm on couple weeks' leave, visitin' Pops, been overseas," he told her briefly. "You're lookin' good as ever, Sherry. Great looking kids too."
The clerk interrupted him as it was her turn at the counter. With her purchase complete, she looked back at Booth. "Remember Johnny Malatesta? We got married awilago, after college. He runs his dad's furniture store now, an' I do the books. Ya bleev I'm a CPA, Seels?"
"Sure, Sherry, you always were smart!" Booth answered.
"Well, I gotta get these kids home; dance recital tonight. Gotta curl their hair, make up their faces, get them all pretty for their dad. Good seein' ya again, Seeley."
"Tell Johnny hullo for me," Booth responded, watching Sherry and her brood exit the tag agency.
"Ya gonna yack all day, or ya gonna tell me whatcha need?" the gum chewing clerk asked him sharply.
"Yea, course, I needta renew the tag for this truck," Booth told her, unconsciously slipping back into the dialect of his childhood. "And can ya tell me how I apply for a handicap sticker? My grandfather's knees give him trouble walkin' too far," he added.
Ya gotta have him go see his docta' ta get that permit," she informed him. " S'not hard for an old guy," she assured Booth. 'They're ril lenient with 'em." The clerk handed him the tag sticker and paperwork for Pops' truck.
"Thanks a lot, you've been a big help," Booth assured her.
ooooooooooooooooo
He hurriedly drove back to Pops' snug brick home, updated the truck's tag sticker, and got his grandfather settled in the passenger seat by 11:15. He backed out of the narrow driveway and called Rosie's for a reservation on the way. Their entrance into the little sandwich shop set off a chorus of greetings from Rosie, her Mama, and Uncle Joey. Once their Philly cheesesteak sandwiches were brought to the table; hot, gooey, and delicious, Booth told Pops about running into Sherry. His grand-father gave him a knowing look.
"I remember that young lady; you were pretty smitten by her, as I recall. Your grandma thought she was a bit of a hussy, too forward for her own good," he remembered. Booth smiled a bit sheepishly.
"Miss Bellafini's got nothing on that Bone Lady of yours, Shrimp! Have you heard from her since both you two went off, halfway 'round the world?"
"Yeah, Pops, we've emailed some. Bones is doing what she loves with dusty old skeletons. We'll all be back in DC in a few more months, I hope." Boy, do I hope! Booth thought to himself. "You wanna drive down with me to DC tomorrow to pick up Parker, and bring him back to Philly for a few days?"
"Sure, Shrimp, I'd love to. It'll be good to see that little boy of yours again. He's a keeper for sure, just like Temperance!"
Booth rolled his eyes in response, but silently agreed with his grandfather. The next five months couldn't pass quickly enough to satisfy him. He missed Parker, he missed DC, he missed the FBI, and most, he missed his Bones.