11. Offer

"Dr. Baer, wait!" Bonnie couldn't have said, precisely, what impelled her; not guilt, certainly, as she was only tangentially responsible for his unfortunate predicament. She might have been moved by remorse for having injured him, however unintentionally, or by pity for a child whose mother could use him so cavalierly, or it might have been no more than the very human impulse to offer assistance when need and opportunity coincide. Whatever it was that prompted her, she reached out a hand to stop him. "About tomorrow," she said, when he paused and raised an eyebrow at her. "I… I'd like to help. You may not think I have the necessary expertise…"

He burst out in a short laugh, but not of the unkind sort. He looked, for once, genuinely amused. "You don't suffer any lack of chutzpah, I'll give you that. You'll be able to do my job someday, Miss Booth-Hodgins, but tomorrow is not that day."

"Oh, no! No, that's not it at all!" Bonnie was flustered and appalled by his misjudgment. Did he really think her so conceited? "I meant, my lack of experience and training as a child-minder. I have two younger brothers, and I baby-sat a few times for my cousins when they were little boys, but, apart from that, I haven't interacted very much with small children. Still, how difficult can it be, right?"

As Dr. Baer listened to this speech, the humor faded from his face, to be replaced first by a flash of self-consciousness and then, by an intent expression that might have signaled incomprehension, incredulity or some mixture of both. He didn't respond immediately to her implied offer, but stood considering her, as if she were a puzzle that needed solving. "That is very generous on your part," he said, at last, "But, no. Thank you. It's too much to ask."

"You don't have to ask. I'm volunteering." Although the demands of the Good Samaritan within her had been satisfied, Bonnie persisted, for some reason. "I appreciate that you don't know me very well, and have no reason to trust me with Danny's care, but I assure you that I am, really, a responsible, well-intentioned person, and, if you insist on character references, there are a number of people I could…"

"Miss Booth-Hodgins," Dr. Baer cut in crisply. "Please stop. I've seen enough of your work to know you are meticulous and utterly reliable. But, taking responsibility for a child you hardly know, and who doesn't know you, and, moreover, for an eight hour stretch — you can't have any idea what you're letting yourself in for."

"Well, that's true, but I like to think I'm a resourceful person, and up to any challenge." She sensed he was beginning to waver, and pressed her advantage. "Here's a suggestion: why not let Danny decide? If he doesn't want to spend the day with me, then, of course, it's out of the question."

In a demonstration of excellent timing, Danny chose that very moment to pick himself and his masterpiece off the floor and present it proudly to Bonnie. He pointed to the sea monster's head, which featured a slit of a mouth crowded with tiny acute triangles. "Plesiosaurs have sharp teeth," he acknowledged, apologetically, "but they're only small."

Bonnie did not need to feign admiration: Danny's foot-long dinosaur, while clumsy in some respects, was charmingly executed: the proportions were pleasing, the sea creature's expression was appropriately fearsome and savage, and the positioning of the flippers lent the picture a suggestion of movement. Most impressively, Danny had used little dots and circles along the upper half of the body to differentiate the dorsal side from the underbelly. "This," she pronounced, "is a most remarkable plesiosaur. I may just have to get this framed so I can hang it in my room. Thank you, Danny."

The young artist beamed with pleasure at Bonnie's praise, and turned to share his triumph with his father. Dr. Baer ruffled the boy's hair and winked his congratulations.

Bonnie ran her eyes over the drawing a last time. "You know, Danny, seeing this picture makes me realize it's been too long since I visited the dinosaur exhibits here at the museum. I don't have to work tomorrow, so I could go, but…" She paused for dramatic effect, and then pulled a glum face.

"But… what, Miss Bonnie?"

"Well, it's not much fun going all alone." She tipped her head to one side, and regarded him thoughtfully. "You love dinosaurs, Danny… Do you suppose you could keep me company, like you did this afternoon? I'd really like that. We could bring our sketch pads, and do more drawings." Bonnie rolled the sheet of butcher paper into a tube, and, reaching into her lab coat pocket, withdrew one of the coated rubber bands she kept at the ready to secure her shoulder-length hair into a pony tail. "Oh, and I hear there's a new bone room where you can articulate your own model dinosaur skeleton."

Danny brightened with excitement. "You can make a fossil, there, too!"

"A fossil," she repeated, in mock-perplexity. "Really? I thought that took millions of years."

Danny laughed at her naiveté. "It's pretend," he explained, "but it's still really neat. I made a sea snail fossil."

"I bet it's beautiful." She retrieved Danny's backpack from the floor, and helped him thread his arms through the straps. "Was it hard to do?"

"No, it was easy-peasy." She looked so dubious at this, that he offered, "I can show you."

"Would you, really, Danny? That would be so great!" Bonnie brushed some stray cotton fluff from the crown of Danny's ball cap, and held it out to him. "I suppose, though, we should really ask your father's permission, first. He may already have plans for you tomorrow."

Danny spun round to his father, the look on his upturned face one of mingled anxiety and hope. "Can I go, Daddy?" Dr. Baer hesitated, and Danny, reading some trouble in his father's expression, added kindly, "You can come, too." He looked back at Bonnie for confirmation.

Bonnie shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "If he wants."

Dr. Baer caught her eye, and, lips twitching, shook his head just barely in rueful admiration. "I have a lot of work to do tomorrow, buddy. If you really think you could have a good time with Miss… Bonnie, of course you can go. It's up to you."

Danny's face split into its widest grin yet, and his gray eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "It's okay, Miss Bonnie! I can come!"

The three walked out together, consolidating plans for the next day as they traversed the deserted halls and rode the elevator down to the ground level. Danny held his father's hand, and bobbed happily between the two adults busily making arrangements for his entertainment over his head. Outside the main exit, as they prepared to go their separate way, Dr. Baer pulled up, and turning to Bonnie, said in a low voice, "You are a redoubtable woman, Miss Booth-Hodgins. I can see it would be a mistake to underestimate you." He smiled wryly, and nodded in farewell. "Enjoy your evening."

As she headed for the SteerE pick-up area, Bonnie turned Dr. Baer's parting remarks over in her mind. A redoubtable woman… She smiled to herself. She rather liked the sound of that.