CH 79 Revelation

"I've always admired your mom, Trev," Bonnie said. "But never more than when I watched her step up to that podium yesterday and accept the nomination. She showed such dignity and grace, such presence." She shook her head, remembering Freya's pale but determined face as she addressed the throng of media and volunteers. "I was just in awe."

"And the outpouring of support has really been tremendous, as you saw," Vanna put in. The three were sitting over drinks in a bar down the block from campaign headquarters unwinding from a hectic afternoon of making calls, engaging with people on social media, and keeping abreast of activity on the website. "The phones haven't stopped ringing since the press conference wrapped, and donations of time and money have come flooding in."

"She's a fighter," Trev said, with justifiable pride. "Nobody'd've blamed her if she shut herself away with her grief, but when the committee came calling, asking her to run as the one person they were confident could deliver a win, she put her personal pain aside, and rose to the occasion. That's the kind of stuff she's made of, and what's got people fired up."

"She was always the committee's first choice, then?" Bonnie asked.

Trev nodded. "From the start." He took a swallow of his beer, and went on carelessly, "Oh, they'd've made do with me or Uncle Randall in a pinch, but she was the one they wanted, and they were right. We all agreed — in the family, I mean. We had clan meetings about it every weekend — that's why I was always going down to the lake house — and we all felt without exception that she was the best choice for the job. The only question was, did she feel up to it? Randall and I were prepared to step in if she wasn't, but we were both genuinely happier to support her, and once she was assured of that, and of the whole family's being behind her, she agreed to run."

Bonnie's phone, which had been lying inoffensively on the table, erupted suddenly into an irritating buzz. "I'm sorry," she said, moving a hand over the device. "Do you mind? I'm expecting an important call."

They politely fell silent, and Bonnie picking up the phone was disheartened to see that the call was not only not from Richard but, worse, from Val Dunbar. The woman wanted something — she always did — and in her disappointment, Bonnie was in no hurry to find out what it was. She sighed and set the device back down.

Vanna grimaced in sympathy. "Not what you were hoping?"

"No." She took a consoling sip of wine, and as she returned the glass to the table, a chime sounded, signaling a voicemail. Bonnie ignored it.

"You can get that, you know," Trev said, tipping his head at the phone.

"Thanks, but it'll keep."

They resumed talking about the campaign, and some time later, Trev having proposed they go on to dinner together, Bonnie saw her chance to act on her resolve to give her friends more time tête-à-tête and tried to bow out, but Trev and Vanna wouldn't hear of it, and rather than make a fuss, she caved and went along. It wasn't, consequently, until she was on her solitary way home in the SteerE that she recollected Val's message, and reluctantly took out her phone.

At first, all she heard was a muffled off-mic exchange, and the happy thought occurred to her that Val's phone had dialed hers inadvertently, but then the conversation broke off, and a clear, high voice piped, "Hi, Bonnie! It's Danny. Danny Baer," he amended at some muted prompting. "Call me back, okay? Bye!"

Regret hit Bonnie like a punch to the gut. Danny'd reached out to her, and she hadn't answered! She wasn't so unreasonable as to blame herself for not taking the call, but as for the message, what would it've hurt to check it right away, as Trev'd suggested? She'd've been in time, then, to return the call and talk to him; now it was too late, even if he were spending the night at Val's, which she doubted. She listened to the voicemail again, taking comfort in his cheerful exuberance. He was fine, at least; no cause for alarm.

On the heels of regret came the guilty awareness that she'd judged Val unfairly and owed her not only the courtesy of a reply but an apology. She decided to take her medicine at once, and, after a number of rings, Val picked up, a distinctly chilly look on her face. "Hey," she said, for all greeting.

"Hi, Val! Look, I hope I'm not calling at a bad time…"

She shrugged. "I was just watching a movie."

"Well, then, I won't keep you long. I just wanted to say I'm really sorry I missed your call earlier. I've been running around all day, and only got to checking my messages this minute."

"It was Danny's idea to call you," she said cooly. "And he's not here, if that's what you're thinking. Dolph picked him up hours ago."

Bonnie accepted the not-so-subtle jab as her due. "No, I figured that. I called to talk to you, to thank you for allowing him to call me. That was nice of you."

Val unbent ever so slightly. "Yeah, well, like I said, he really wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" Casually, so as not to betray her intense curiosity, Bonnie asked, "What about?"

A sudden angry light blazed up in Val's eyes. "Really, Bonnie? That's the way you're going to play this?"

Bonnie, stunned by the attack, was dumbstruck. "What do you mean?"

Val snorted. "Are you seriously going to pretend you don't know about the drawing Danny sent you? The latest one he thinks is for the book you two are working on? Give me a break!"

Appalled, Bonnie protested, "Honestly, Val, this is the first I've heard of any drawing! When did he send it, and how?"

"How? What kind of a question is that? You and Dolph work in the same department, for cripes sake! How do you suppose Danny sent it? U. S. mail?"

"No," Bonnie said, in a placating tone. "Of course, he gave it to Bear to give me. And this was when? A few days ago?"

"Nice try. It was a couple of weeks back, so don't go thinking you can pin the blame on Dolph. A day or so, yeah, I could see him forgetting the drawing at home, or being too distracted at work to remember, but for two weeks at a stretch? With Danny hanging on an answer?" She shook her head derisively. "That isn't going to fly."

A chill that owed nothing to the autumn night stole over Bonnie as the import of Val's words sank in. Danny had entrusted Bear with a drawing for her two weeks before, and, in all that time, though opportunities had abounded, Bear had not seen fit to give it to her. What was she to conclude from that but that he'd deliberately ignored Danny's wishes and withheld the sketch from her? If Danny hadn't taken the initiative of phoning her on his own, she'd still be in the dark, unaware of the drawing's very existence. The possibility that Bear, not satisfied with distancing himself from her, was walling Danny off from her as well was a blow so cruel, she found it hard to breathe, let alone defend herself against Val's recriminations.

Something of her pain must have registered on her face, because Val's aggravation gave way to reluctant sympathy. "Hey!" she said, less harshly. "I'm sorry I went off on you, but I didn't appreciate you acting all wide-eyed and innocent. I get that admitting you messed up is embarrassing, but you could've gone with explaining you've been crazy busy at work, or still kind of out of it on account of that senator you were tight with dying."

"You know about that?"

"Sure. I watch the news, and, besides, Dolph laid the whole situation out for Danny. He even warned him you had too much going on right now to get back to him right away, which is the only reason he managed to stay patient so long. You know kids, though: two weeks for us feels like eternity to them, so he wouldn't see reason about waiting a bit more. I shouldn't've let him call — Dolph would have a cow if he knew — but he was so persistent, and, well, I've never been much good at putting my foot down."

Bonnie couldn't be sorry, under the circumstances, about Val's lack of firmness and said so. "I'm really very glad you gave in, Val, so, again, thank you. Very much."

"Yeah, well," Val said, grudgingly, "You've been a good friend to Danny these last few months, and you've got some personal stuff going on, so I'm not going to get on your case for blowing him off this once." Her expression, which had softened, clouded suddenly, and her gaze on Bonnie's sharpened. "This was a one-time slip up, right? Not a taste of things to come?"

Bonnie's indignation was so hot, she burst out with an overloud "Of course not," embarrassing herself, but, perversely, seeming to satisfy Val, who nodded. "I was afraid, just for a minute there, you operated like Eddie — you know, ghosting people when they get on your nerves. But you're not like that. If Danny gets to being a pest and wanting more attention than you can give him, you'll tell him in a nice way. Right?"

"Of course, but truly, Val, I don't see it ever coming to that. Danny's a delight, and, trust me, my not getting back to him has nothing to do with being annoyed or feeling imposed upon. This has all been a big misunderstanding, and I promise you I'll get in touch with him in the next few days and clear the whole thing up."

"I have dinner with him on Wednesdays," Val volunteered, whether in an effort to be helpful or to put her on the spot, Bonnie hardly knew. "You could call back then."

They settled on seven o'clock, and, with that, the nightmare conversation was over, and Bonnie could at last abandon herself to the tumult of her feelings. It was a bitter mix, a tempest of frustration, injured pride, and grief with at its heart a terrible dismay. She'd known, of course, that things were not ideal between her and Bear, but if Val were to be believed — and Bonnie saw no reason to doubt her — they'd deteriorated to a far greater degree than she'd suspected. She'd fallen not just partially, but so completely out of grace she was no longer to be trusted where Danny was concerned. But how had things gone south so fast? What had she done, or failed to do, to merit being treated in so mean and arbitrary a fashion?

The question tore at her heart, but, gradually, as her raw emotions faded and certain of Val's remarks came back to her, she caught the glimmer of a hope that she'd misread the situation. On first hearing, she'd assumed that Bear's cautioning Danny against expecting a quick reply on account of her having "too much going on" was a ploy designed to cover his intention of not honoring his son's request, but what if he'd been sincere? What if Bear truly believed she was still grieving for Trenton and was trying to give her space? She'd taken it for granted that, because he'd withheld the drawing from her two full weeks, he meant to keep it from her permanently, but what if he were only waiting for some sign that she was no longer mourning, or, even, that she was not consumed with meeting her rapidly-looming work deadlines? Perhaps he was only biding his time, holding the sketch in reserve for a more auspicious moment, such as, for example, their return from Paris.

Bonnie would have given a great deal to embrace this appealing version of events, but it bordered too closely on wishful thinking for her comfort. What rang true to her, conversely — partly because Val had voiced the same concern — was Bear's apprehension that she no longer had time for Danny. She recognized this as an old issue, a fear for Danny on Bear's part that a day would come when the novelty of having a six-year-old friend would pall on her and other more age-appropriate people and interests would crowd him out of her life, leaving him wounded and confused. Was it possible Bear was thinking that day had arrived, or was on the horizon? But, why? What reason had she given him to doubt her?

Start, a small voice whispered in her mind, with never once in the last four weeks asking him how Danny was doing. He started first grade — a big deal in a child's life — and did you ask how he was settling in, if he liked his teacher, if the after-school arrangement with Caro Jolicoeur was working out? Bonnie'd had that conversation with Caro, she had Danny's first-day picture on her phone, but the voice retorted, Bear doesn't know any of that. And speaking of Caro, weren't you supposed to call her about setting up a movie date for the two of you and the boys? What happened with that? Did you forget?

It had entirely slipped her mind, though she'd been genuinely enthusiastic about the outing when she'd proposed it. Obligations to other friends, her absorption in the Lavallière investigation, the demands of her other work, all had conspired to drive that promise from her head. She glanced quickly at the dashboard clock, anxious, in her remorse, to remedy the oversight post haste, but it had gone too late to phone for anything short of an emergency, and she had to resign herself to waiting until the next day.

The SteerE continued to cruise noiselessly through the night, and Bonnie, staring blindly out the window, saw the weeks since the gala unscroll before her eyes. As the hours and days passed in review, she saw to her chagrin that Bear could be forgiven for thinking she'd spared Danny not a single thought. His name had never crossed her lips, and the one time she'd been offered the chance to see him — at Luc's party — she'd passed it up in favor of supporting Sam and Vanna. Finally, with hindsight, she understood why her declining Caro's invitation had set Bear off: he'd felt it as a slight to Danny, not the Jolicoeurs. If, as she'd supposed, he'd predicated giving her the drawing on receiving some sign from her, she realized it wasn't a signal that her grief had abated or that she was successfully managing her work but rather that she sincerely cared for and valued Danny. It was a signal she hadn't given him that Friday, or any of the days since. The question now became: was he still looking for that signal, or had he moved on?

Bonnie'd been remiss; she owned it, was sorry and vowed to make amends, but all the same, she found it hard that Bear would doubt her attachment to Danny with so little cause. Val had thought her guilty of outright neglect and had still given her a one-time pass, but Bear had not. She understood his compulsion to protect Danny from hurt, and, to the extent that it was rational, she sympathized with it, but she'd given him no real reason to question her friendship for Danny, and his lack of trust rankled. Her good intentions, she felt, should, literally, have gone without saying; she'd earned that vote of confidence many times over, but that, unfortunately, was not how matters stood. The reality was that damage had been done, and, fair or not, it was up to her to fix it.

She would need to dip deeply into her store of patience and hope, and get to it on Monday.