CH 93 Journeys end
Angela's first order of business was to see Bonnie settled on the couch in a nest of pillows and afghans. When she'd her tucked in, she straightened, and, taking in Bonnie's appearance, frowned in concern. "You look all done in, sweetie," she said, reaching out a hand to feel Bonnie's forehead. "And you're warm to the touch. How are you feeling? Any aches or pains?"
"Just my head," Bonnie said. "I'm a little congested."
"Well, you stay put, and Jeanne'll be back in a minute with a nice, hot cup of tea. Meanwhile, I'll just go see what we have by way of cold medicine."
Bonnie nodded weakly, and, leaning her head against a pillow, shut her weary eyes. When she opened them again, the salon was bright with strong, natural light, and her grandmother, neatly dressed for the day, was sitting opposite in an armchair, reading.
"Ah!" she said when Bonnie stirred. "You're awake." She marked her place on the tablet, and, setting it aside, smiled warmly. "Feel any better?"
"A little," Bonnie lied. She struggled into a more upright position, but regretted it when her head swam. "What time is it?"
"Quarter past two. I shouldn't have let you sleep so long, but you seemed to need it. Do you think you could eat something? Jeanne's made you some chicken consommé."
Bonnie's stomach revolted at the thought of food, but she accepted a cup of broth to please her grandmother. She was alternately blowing on the hot liquid and taking small sips when Angela threw out, "I phoned Booth a little while ago to let him know you'd arrived safely."
Bonnie flinched. "I meant to text him first thing."
"I guessed as much. But then you crashed so I took care of it for you. Imagine my surprise when he was stunned to hear from me. Bonnie!" Angela's voice, while still gentle, held a definite note of reproof. "How could you tell him you were going, but not where? You must've known he'd worry! I'm not saying he was frantic — he knows you have good sense — but the way you left — with no more explanation than that cryptic good-bye note — he was alarmed, and I can't say I blame him. What in the world's going on? This isn't like you at all."
Bonnie lowered her eyes and stared into her cup. "I couldn't face him, Grammy. I… I quit my job."
"He told me. That was… sudden."
"Yes, and I couldn't tell him why. Not without getting into a big discussion, and I couldn't afford that."
"I don't understand."
"I knew what he'd say, you see: that I shouldn't quit, at least not in a rush, that I wasn't in any fit state to be making a decision, that I owed it to myself, and everyone involved, to take a day to calm down and consider all the angles."
"And would he've been so wrong?"
"No, he'd've been exactly right, but I couldn't do it, Grammy, that's the thing. I couldn't stick it out. I was desperate to get it over, and put it all behind me."
"I… see," Angela said carefully. "So, you've come to Paris…?"
"To get away, far away, from everyone and everything." Bonnie swallowed hard, and felt tears start in her eyes. "I'm not proud of myself, Grammy. I understand if you're disappointed."
"Don't talk nonsense! I'm not disappointed, only sorry to see you so upset. Whatever you've done, or not done, I'm sure you had your reasons, and you have my full support, whatever you need. As for what's happened to trigger all this, I can't deny I'd like to know, but you can tell me in your own good time — or never — just as you choose. All right?"
Bonnie nodded. "Thank you, Grammy, and I'll tell you everything, promise, only just now…" She motioned to the bottle of orange liquid standing at Angela's elbow. "Is that cold medicine? Could I have some, please? I'm not feeling so great."
It wasn't until late the next day that Angela had a fair picture of the events that had driven Bonnie to her threshold. The medicine notwithstanding, over the course of that first afternoon, Bonnie's condition had steadily worsened, and she'd quickly been too racked with chills and body aches for any but the most summary exchanges. She'd turned in by early evening, and, between being ill and jet-lagged, had spent a miserable night, and felt no better in the morning. She'd kept to her bed, drifting in and out of sleep, until finally around noon she'd gotten herself up, dressed and as far as the living room couch where she curled up again.
Angela had come to sit with her, and it was over the next few hours and endless cups of tea and broth that the whole of Bonnie's history with Bear came out. Angela largely refrained from comment but didn't hesitate to ask questions, and they were both so absorbed in this give-and-take, they were unaware of the fading light until Jeanne bustled into the room and switched on the lamps. They were silent while Jeanne cleared away, and when she was gone, Angela shook her head and said, "I don't know what to tell you. I can't make heads or tails of Baer's behavior."
Bonnie smiled weakly. "You don't see me as pushy and dense?"
"No, and it's not because I'm biased, missy, if that's what you're implying! No," she mused, "there's something here that doesn't add up. I liked him, you know. Baer. I only saw him the once, of course, but he made a good impression. And to think of him blowing up at you like that!" She frowned thoughtfully a long moment, and then gave her head another rueful shake. "I'm stumped. It's like a puzzle with a piece missing, and you know how much I hate that! But there's one thing I am sure of, sweetie: you did not deserve that treatment, and anyone who knows you would agree."
They let the subject drop, but later, as they were finishing a light supper, Angela suddenly offered, "I've been thinking… about the way you… resigned. What's unfortunate — from a purely pragmatic standpoint," she hastened to amend, "is that you've maybe sacrificed your prospects for no return. You must see that your leaving in no way obliges Baer to stay on. All you may've accomplished is depriving the Jeff of both your talents."
"That didn't occur to me at the time," Bonnie admitted. "I wasn't thinking very clearly. Still, I wouldn't take it back if I could."
"I suppose not. I have to say, though — and forgive me if this stings — that I think you treated your Dr. Cummings rather shabbily. After the way he supported you and your career, he deserved better, I think, than for you to give him short notice via email."
Bonnie flushed as this barb hit home. "I've had an email back," she volunteered, "but… I can't bring myself to read it."
Angela studied her a moment. "Shall I take a look?"
For all answer, Bonnie retrieved the message, and handed over her phone.
"Let's see then." Angela skimmed the text, reporting as she read, "He says he was blindsided by your email… that it hit him very hard, coming, as it did, on the heels of Baer's resignation. He deduced from the coincidence… and Baer confirmed… that your departures are due to some personal issue between you… and while he's not unsympathetic to your feelings… he's very much annoyed that neither of you saw fit to bring the matter to his attention. Given the chance… he could maybe have negotiated a compromise… or brokered a deal so that one of you, at least, remained." She looked up from the phone to observe, "He makes a very good point."
Bonnie allowed this was true. "Anything else?"
"Voyons. He goes on to say… oh, now this is interesting! He won't concede it's too late. He's giving you and Baer time to work something out… ideally, so that both of you stay, but if that's not feasible, so that one of you will. To that end and to allay suspicion… he's spread the story that you're off dealing with a family emergency…" Angela looked up sharply. "You haven't let your workmates know?"
"No. I meant to email, but I've been too sick."
"Well, that's a mercy. Now, where…? Oh, yes. You can have until mid-month… Baer's on board, and will contact you… In closing… however challenging… he's confident he can rely on you and Baer to act in the Jeff's best interests. Yours, ever cordially, etc. Well!" Angela straightened, and passed back the phone. "That's a generous answer, I must say!"
"Yes." Bonnie was humbled and touched by her boss' forbearance, but she was not, on that account, any less apprehensive as she clicked back to her inbox. A number of new messages had come in since she'd done a quick check that morning, and there, wedged in among the spam, was mail from Gabby, Kiki and — yes — Bear.
"I take it Baer's written."
Bonnie nodded, her eyes riveted to the subject line "Apology."
Angela sat unmoving, but as Bonnie didn't again surrender her phone, she pushed back from the table. "I ought to make some calls. I expect I'll be a while." She paused on her way from the room to squeeze Bonnie's shoulder, and then Bonnie was alone.
She retired to the couch, and, wrapping herself again in the folds of a heavy throw, resumed staring at the screen. To buy time, she deleted all the spam, and read her workmates' emails, both of which, unsurprisingly, conveyed their sympathy for whatever family trouble she was going through and best wishes for a happy outcome. She sent them short replies, thanking them for their concern and promising to write again when she could. There was nothing for it, then, no more diversions to exploit. She steeled herself, and, opening Bear's message, read,
"Dear Bonnie,
"I ought to have foreseen that you would quit. I blame myself for missing so obvious a fallout from the words we exchanged, but, in my defense, I was under the impression that you had agreed in principle to assisting Kato in the Conservation Station and considered the matter settled.
"That, however, is beside the point. You have quit, and it's the last thing I would've wanted. I know you too well to suppose you were motivated by wounded pride or anger. You weren't thinking of yourself, but of others whose comfort and well-being should not be your first priority, but mine. You have to see I can't sit idly by and let you assume that responsibility.
"Whatever you may think of the Winterbourne, my reputation in the field is such that taking a job there would not seriously damage my career. I can recover. At your level of experience, the same cannot be said of you. If you pass up this opportunity with the Jeff, you are courting the risk that it'll be years, if ever, before you're offered a comparable position. For that reason alone, you should let me be the one to leave.
"But I expect you're not primarily concerned with my career move but with the effect it'll have on Danny, and for that, I give you credit. I've made no secret of mistrusting your attachment to him, but, if proof were needed, your putting his happiness ahead of your own has shown me my mistake, and I apologize for doubting you. If I'm honest, I have to admit I've been jealous, too, of his affection for you. I've been accused (many times) of being overly possessive. It appears I am guilty as charged.
"I apologize, too, for saying I couldn't work with you. That was a senseless remark, and, if you'll allow, I'll take it back. The truth is, my feelings for you — and, probably by now, yours for me — make our working together less than perfectly easy, and while that's not ideal, it's not an insurmountable problem, either. As you suggested at the time, it's a simple (if very awkward) matter of establishing some ground rules and agreeing to respect them. I was wrong to dismiss that solution out of hand, and I'd like the chance, if possible, to remedy that error.
What I propose is, then, that we retract our resignations and try working together under these new conditions. As I write, Cummings is spreading the story that he's making a last, hard push to keep me, so, if I do renege on the Winterbourne, no one will think to connect my change of heart with your return from 'personal leave.' You don't need to worry you'll come back to any embarrassing questions or rumors.
"You'll need time to consider, but if you could give me an answer in the next few days, I'd appreciate it. I owe Piers at least two weeks notice; three would be better. If you want to discuss things, whether over the phone or in person, you know how to reach me.
"In the hopes of hearing back soon, Baer."
Tears brimmed in Bonnie's eyes, and, as she blinked them away, she became aware of her grandmother moving out of the shadows. From her anxious expression, Bonnie judged she'd been watching her a while. "Well?" Angela said, coming forward to drop into a chair.
Bonnie held out her phone without a word, and sank deeper into the cushions as her grandmother read. At length, Angela raised her head and, looking over at Bonnie, regarded her with sympathy. "He doesn't exactly sell it, does he?"
"No. It's hardly flattering to be told he can bring himself to work with me if it's that or letting me commit career suicide." She tugged the afghan up over her shoulders and buried her chin in its folds.
They were silent for a time, and then, Angela ventured, "What will you do?"
Bonnie sighed. "I don't know. Sleep on it, I guess."
The night, however, brought no counsel, or, rather, none that moved her to accept Bear's olive branch. She recognized that he'd made her a reasonable offer, had granted her, indeed, the very concession she'd asked for, but on reflection she found that it wasn't enough. She was already familiar with the stress of watching her step with him, biting her tongue, catering to his uncertain temper, and, if she'd endured that strain for months, it was only because she'd been confident of an end in sight. There was no question of that now, and she wasn't signing on to rub painfully along with Bear every workday potentially for years, not even for a job she loved.
The dawn was still hours away when she rose and drafted her replies, a short one to Dr. Cummings and a longer one to Bear. In both, she thanked them, in somewhat different terms, for their consideration in reaching out to her and sorely regretted the necessity which, not having changed, obliged her to stand by her resignation. To Bear's letter, she added, "As for my job prospects, I appreciate your concern, but assure you there's no need. I have a very attractive standing offer, and, though it can't compare with working at the Jeff, it has enough to recommend it that I can see myself accepting. In any event, as you once pointed out, I have no financial need to work, and can afford to wait until a position to my liking comes along.
"I realize that, by not meeting your condition, I release you from any obligation to stay on at the Jeff, but I sincerely hope you'll do so. Please believe that, whatever you decide, my own decision is final and won't be influenced by yours. I would be sorry for the department to lose us both when one of us — you — could stay, but it's entirely your call. Do what you think best.
"It only remains for me to wish you well, and to thank you for your guidance and support over the last eleven months. I am especially grateful to you for the opportunity to work on La Coupe d'amour, an experience which, whatever else my career may hold in store, will always rank as one of its highlights."
Her finger hovered a long instant over send and then with a fateful tap, it was done; she'd severed her ties with the Jeff. She was hit by a wave of desolation, a sense of loss so acute she was nearly sick with it. She crawled back under the covers, and, curled up on her side, fixed her eyes on the window and waited for first light.
Some hours later, Bonnie emerged for her room to find her grandmother sitting over the remains of her breakfast. Angela looked up at her entrance with a cheery "Good morning," but sobered at the sight of Bonnie's haggard appearance. "Bad night?"
"You could say that." Angela made no reply, and Bonnie, sensing she was loathe to ask, volunteered, "I emailed my answer to Bear this morning. I told him 'no.'"
Angela's face showed regret but no surprise. "I'm sorry, sweetie. That must've been hard." She picked up the tea pot in mute inquiry, and, as Bonnie sat down, poured each of them a cup. "Not that you asked, but for what it's worth, that's what I would've advised. And not," she added quickly, "because it suits me, though it's true I love having you here. You will stay, won't you?"
Bonnie nodded. "Through the fifteenth, if that's all right. But, just so you know, Grammy, I'm not likely to be good company."
Angela waved this away. "It's only natural for you to be sad and to need time to recover. You do as much — or as little — as you feel up to, and leave the rest to me, all right?"
Over the days that followed, Angela set herself the task of providing Bonnie with a retreat as secure as any she might have paid for. She constituted herself a sort of gatekeeper, discouraging would-be visitors like Richard de Clermont and Rosa Vincent, and screening Bonnie's calls for her, including those from her grandfather. Angela kept Booth informed and reassured as to Bonnie's progress, but she drew the line at passing her the phone. The girl needed peace and quiet, Booth was told, and would talk to him when she was more herself. Booth wasn't best pleased with this arrangement, but, as he really had no choice and, besides, trusted his old friend implicitly, he acquiesced with minor grumbling.
And so it was that for nearly a week Bonnie neither saw nor spoke to another living soul but Jeanne and her grandmother. She might have left the apartment for a change of scene or air, but, at first, she was too much under the weather, and later, a combination of frigid cold and freezing rain kept her from venturing out. She caught up, instead, on her sleep, and otherwise passed her time in quiet pursuits: reading, listening to podcasts, watching the occasional film and helping Angela with small projects as requested.
Had Bonnie kept her phone off or resisted checking her messages, her seclusion would have been complete, but she did neither. Though she limited herself to morning and evening, she scrolled through her texts and voicemails every day, and even, against her better judgment, checked her work email. In this way, she discovered that Dr. Cummings emailed her once more, and Bear, several times. Her heart ached to see those replies, and she was sorely tempted to read them, but then she reminded herself her mind was made up, and summoned the strength to delete them.
She'd missed single calls from Eddie ("Whatever you need, say the word."), Adele ("I'm here if you want to talk.") and Vanna ("So much to tell you! Call me!"). None of these was urgent, but it was a different matter with Trev's voicemails, which grew progressively more anxious as they piled up unanswered ("What's going on? Where are you? Are you all right?"). Bonnie broke down and texted him, "Sorry to be out of touch. Been wiped out by a cold. Confined to bed."
His answer came at once. "At last! Was going nuts. Really stinks about the cold. You on the mend?"
"Getting there. Out of circulation a few more days."
"Gotcha. Won't keep you. Got news, but it can wait."
"Good or bad?"
"Excellent!"
"Hit me."
The indicator dots cycled maddeningly on and off, and then, "Got my nerve up, told Vanna how I feel. She loves me back! Can you believe?"
"Duh! I could've told you that! In fact, I did."
"Says you. But get this: all this time she's thought we were back together!"
"Duh again! You told me half your family thought so, too. Remember?"
"Right. Forgot that. Anyway, all water under the bridge. Details when I see you. Hope it's soon. Feel better."
"Thanks. Best to Van."
She laid the phone aside, her emotions a bittersweet jumble. She was overjoyed for Trev, but his happy ending accentuated her loss and caused her fresh pain, as if the scab forming over her grief had torn off. It was a while before she was calm again.
The morning of Bonnie's eighth day in Paris, she checked her mail for Bear's almost daily message, and found none. There was none again the next day, or the next, and she realized with a letdown then it was well and truly over: Bear had accepted the futility of trying to contact her, and was moving on. In five days' time, Dr. Cummings would offer the conservator job to his second-choice candidate, and she would be free to return to the States and pick up the pieces of her life, such as they were.
Later that afternoon, she was researching return flights to D. C. when Angela joined her in the living room. "I've just had a call from Rosa," she said. "She'd like to drop by in an hour or so." As Bonnie hesitated, she went on, "You know I've put her off already several times."
"I know, but…" The thought of facing Rosa and her well-meant but trying sympathy made her shrink inside. "Look at me! I'm a mess. My hair…"
"You have time to jump in the shower and put on nicer clothes." Her shoulders sagged, and she said, more gently, "Listen, I know you'd rather not, but Rosa's been a good friend to you — only think how hard she fought to get you the Louvre Fellowship! I'm not saying you owe her for that…"
Bonnie smiled a tad wryly. "Aren't you?"
"All right, yes. I think, on account of all she's done, she deserves special consideration. And, anyway," she continued, pressing her advantage, "it's not as if she means to stay long. She mentioned she'll have one of her grandchildren with her."
"One of her husband's, you mean."
Angela stiffened. "She loves those girls as if they were her own. Do you think Brennan loved Sonny and Eddie any less for being Parker's sons?"
Bonnie colored. "Of course not. She adored them."
"Down to the ground. So now, missy, what's it going to be?"
Bonnie withdrew to her room, and, for the first time in days, put some effort into her appearance. She had to rush, but was presentable in the allotted time, and earned an approving nod from Angela when she returned to the living room. Rosa was not so gauche as to arrive at the appointed hour, but neither was she very late. When the intercom sounded, Jeanne being occupied in the kitchen, Angela went to buzz her guests in and greet them at the door. Bonnie, hearing the animated voices in the foyer, rose from the couch to welcome the guests in her turn, and shortly, Rosa, all smiles, preceded Angela into the room, leading by the hand a small child, a boy in a familiar dinosaur T-shirt. He no sooner saw Bonnie than he slipped his hand from Rosa's, and, rounding tables and armchairs, raced over to her. "Danny!" Bonnie breathed, as he flung his arms around her waist.
He looked up at her, his face split in a brilliant grin. "Surprise!"
