CH 95 Illumination

"Vanna?" Her friend's name on Bear's lips was so unexpected as to be stunning. "What in the world…?"

"She didn't mean any harm," Bear said quickly. "She was on edge about you and Wyndham-Pryce, and talking seemed to ease her nerves. I wasn't any more than a sympathetic ear to her."

"When was this?"

Bear frowned at her doubtfully, as if she should've known. "At the gala. I'd never seen her before that night, and haven't seen her since. To speak to, anyway."

"Right. Sorry. So, you had this talk…?"

"While you and Wyndham-Pryce were in the garden. We'd finished our dance, and she suggested we get a drink and sit the next one out. She tried to make conversation, but I could tell she was distracted. Her eyes kept straying to the door onto the terrace. Eventually, she confessed she was anxious because it was Wyndham-Pryce's 'big night.' He was going to pop the question one last time, and you were going to give him a final answer.

"Until she filled me in, I didn't know a thing about your trial separation and its terms. I knew you'd been unhappy at the beginning of the summer, and rumor put it down to you and Wyndham-Pryce splitting up, but I had no way to know for sure and I didn't feel I could ask. I wanted it to be true, God knows. I was sorry for your pain, but, by then, I was already harboring the hope you might be starting to think of me as more than just a valued colleague and Danny's father.

"You bounced back. There were all those dinners out in July and August, that horrible night in the hospital… I thought I saw signs that you did care, but I was afraid to trust them, afraid it was wishful thinking. And then, at the gala, there was this moment — I don't know if you remember — I was standing with Piers…"

Bonnie nodded. "Our eyes met."

His lips curled into half a smile. "Across a crowded room, no less. And I don't know how to explain it other than to say I suddenly had this sense, this certainty that you felt the same as I did, that we were on the same wavelength. My doubts just disappeared."

"Mine, too."

He gave her hand a grateful squeeze. "All the same, when Wyndham-Pryce turned up out of the blue, my confidence took a hit."

"But I chose you!" Bonnie cried in frustration. "You offered to clear it so I could sit at Trev's table, and I refused in no uncertain terms!"

"Yes, and that shored me back up so that, later, when he made his grand romantic gesture on the dance floor, I was able to take it in stride. I saw right through Vanna's ploy to distract me and buy him time alone with you, but I didn't see him as having much chance of success, so I humored her.

"You were gone a long time, though, and, like I said, the suspense got to be too much for Vanna. She couldn't keep up the pretense of flirting with me, and that's when the story of Wyndham-Pryce proposing came out. To hear her tell it, her friend's whole future happiness was hanging on your answer. If you turned him down a second time, he'd be devastated. You were his 'one,' the love of his life. She admitted you two had been through a rough patch lately, but you hadn't broken up, and she didn't think you would, not when the two of you had such a strong connection. You had too much going for you, too much history together. Wyndham-Pryce would make you see that, and you, Bonnie, couldn't help but be won over.

"She went on in that vein for a while — it was more a monologue than a conversation — and the more she talked, the more I sensed she was trying to convince herself. Deep down, I think, she was afraid for him, afraid he was going to be disappointed. I felt sorry for her.

"And then we got the word about Wyndham-Pryce senior's collapse, and joined the search for you. Of course it was Vanna who found you and broke the news. Naturally, she was upset after, but what made telling you, for her, so much worse, she told me, was that she'd had to ruin what would otherwise have been a supremely happy moment." Bear paused to give her a straight look. "She'd come across you just as Wyndham-Pryce was proposing and witnessed your very enthusiastic 'yes' in reply."

"No!" The objection was automatic, but then so was the flashback to that critical moment: Trev catching her up in his arms, spinning her in a joyful circle, the glimpse of Vanna in the shadows. "But she got it wrong! Trev didn't propose! Well, he did," she said in fairness, "But not marriage! I said yes to being his best friend forever!"

"Ah," Bear said, taking this in. "So, that's what she saw. I did wonder… But, in any case, it's not what she reported."

"And you believed her?"

"Not at first, no. I asked if she was sure, if she couldn't've made a mistake. She was positive. She even described the scene to me."

Bonnie could only gape at him. "You can't be saying… You're not serious about…?"

"Thinking you were engaged to Wyndham-Pryce all this time?" He nodded. "That's about the size of it."

"But… that's impossible!" The words were no sooner said than Trev's recent text about Vanna ("she thought we were still together") came back to haunt her. "How did you… I mean, when…?"

"Did I learn the truth? Not until last Saturday. Your grandfather set me straight." He treated her to a twisted smile. "Talk about a bad first impression. He couldn't believe I'd been so stupid. He was literally speechless."

Bonnie knew the feeling. "But… I just can't… I mean, all right, I can see how it must've looked, but for you to just take Vanna's word as gospel…! You could've asked me to explain!"

"And I would've if you'd hung around, but you'd gone off with Wyndham-Pryce and, by the time I got the chance, I'd had two days to stew over all the reasons Vanna'd given as to why you two would stay together. All that talk about you being perfectly matched, having a tight bond forged over a decade of shared experience, it began to seem plausible, especially in light of your taking off without so much as a word to me. That moment you and I shared…" He shook his head. "I started having doubts, to wonder if I'd read too much into it.

"And then, those two days were followed by the four you took off to stand by Wyndham-Pryce. You put your life — work, me — completely on hold for him without, as far as I could tell, a single look back. At the funeral and the cemetery, you were never far from his side. You were in so many photos and video-clips on the news, it was as if you were already part of the family. And when you came back to work, you were still wearing black. A bit much for a friend's father, I thought, but not for a fiancé's."

Exasperated, Bonnie countered, "Well, if you took such careful note of my appearance, then you must've seen I wasn't then, or at any time after, wearing a ring!"

Bear frowned. "But… well, you wouldn't, would you? Not with the family in deep mourning. It would be disrespectful. Or is that thinking out-of-date?"

He had her there. Emma and Mitch had yet to announce their engagement, and weren't planning to do so for another three months. If Emma had a ring, which Bonnie assumed she must, she wasn't wearing it on her finger.

"Anyway," Bear was saying, "as far as asking goes, by the time you came back to work, I felt like the ball was in your court. I'd given you a chance to explain…"

Bonnie gasped at this injustice. "When?"

"That first morning you phoned. You apologized for leaving the gala without telling me, and I said not to worry, Vanna'd found me and filled me in. That was your cue. You had to've known what she'd seen and how it would've looked to her." His gaze sharpened suddenly. "Unless you weren't aware…"

"No," Bonnie said, "I saw her." She could recall Vanna's ashen face and trembling body all too clearly. "But she was so distressed, every other thought flew right out of my head, and then when she gave us the news, we rushed straight off to the hospital… " She looked wonderingly at Bear. "I don't think I ever really registered what she'd seen or how she might have misunderstood. It all got lost in the commotion."

"And she never brought it up?"

"No." Looking back, though, Bonnie realized that Vanna's actions had spoken for her. That puzzling nonsense about it not being "her place" to support Trev in his grief suddenly made sense, as did her reluctance to spend time with him unless Bonnie was present. Vanna had been treating her with the deference due a fiancée, and she — and Trev — had missed it. Bear wasn't the only one who'd been stupid.

"Well," he said, breaking into her thoughts, "I didn't mention it either, so I guess I can't be too surprised. I just waited and looked for signs that she was wrong, and… didn't see them. The choices you made — to go to that fashion show, campaign for Wyndham-Pryce, invite him to your presentation trial-run…"

"It was my grandfather I invited, not Trev! He was only doing me the favor of getting him to the Jeff when no one in my family could."

"I couldn't know that," Bear said reasonably. "I assumed you wanted him there for his own sake. And, speaking of your presentation, I got the feeling — not that day, but later at the symposium — that you were using Lebrun and Madeleine's story to tip me off about you getting back with Wyndham-Pryce."

"What? No!" Bonnie could've wept with vexation. "I was trying to send you a message, yes, but it wasn't that! I wanted you to see that love can be constant, that, for all Lebrun might've hurt Madeleine by turning away from her for no apparent reason, she went on loving him regardless and was open, when they met again, to talking over their mistakes and misunderstandings, and moving on from the past."

"I got that, all right, but I assumed Wyndham-Pryce was the Lebrun in that scenario, not me. I figured if I played any role in the story, it was Blanchard's."

"You did not!"

"It's not that preposterous. Blanchard's the guy Madeleine took up with when, for whatever reason, Lebrun was out of the picture. Lebrun was the man she'd known and loved since childhood whereas Blanchard was the interloper, the newcomer on the scene. She might've loved him, too, but it couldn't compare with what she felt for Lebrun, and so, when her first love came back into her life and begged her to take him back, she did."

"No!" Bonnie said, in a faint voice. "That's just… incredible!" She balled her free hand into a fist and popped him smartly in the shoulder. "How could you think that?"

"Ow." He made a show of rubbing the injured spot, but then his humor faded, and his gaze dropped to their hands. "It fit my expectations. I'm a person people move on from, Bonnie. You might say it's the story of my life. My mother. My father. He didn't abandon me physically, but, emotionally, he wasn't there, too lost in his grief over Rosa. My grandmother was my rock, but she died while I still needed her. Val, of course. Rationally," he said, anticipating her objection, "I know it's not my fault — or, in Val's case, not all my fault — but there's a part of me that's never been sure, that's afraid there's not enough to me to make people want to stay."

Bonnie gripped his hand fiercely. "That's not true!"

He found a grateful smile for her. "Time will tell, won't it? And that's the problem, always has been my problem, with you. You make me want to open up and let you in, but that means facing the fear that I might not measure up. Again." He made an impatient gesture with his hand. "I know everyone's afraid of rejection to some degree, but with me, it's practically pathological. I've let it dictate my life, shape and distort my perceptions."

He shifted awkwardly, then, with an effort, forced himself to meet her eyes. "Once Vanna put the thought in my head that you and Wyndham-Pryce were engaged, it colored everything I saw. Things that were perfectly innocent — your taking those four days off, missing Luc's party, neglecting to ask about Danny — they all loomed large in my mind as confirmation that what she'd said was true. It got to the point where even things you did — I see now — to reassure me had the opposite effect. When you insisted you wouldn't leave D.C. even for the Louvre Fellowship, I took it as a roundabout announcement that you were getting married. That clinched it for me that, while I could always be more to you than a colleague, I could never be more than a friend."

"And that's when you decided to quit."

He nodded. "But, here's the thing, Bonnie: I didn't only imagine signs where there were none or misread the ones that were there, I failed to pick up on others — and one in particular — that stared me right in the face. That last day, when we argued, you got so upset I was leaving, it was all you could do not to cry. I couldn't understand it. Disappointment, maybe a little sadness, I expected, but for you to look like your heart might break…" He availed himself of her other hand, and continued urgently, "I didn't know, Bonnie! I never suspected I was hurting you. I didn't think I had that power. I honestly thought you were happy with Wyndham-Pryce, and I tried to be happy for you."

Bonnie withdrew one of her hands, and wiped away a tear. "That's what you meant? About not being the man I wanted?"

"Yes. I couldn't be a gracious loser. Not long term. I couldn't face a future of watching you marry Wyndham-Pryce and make a life with him. Your grandfather got that ugly truth out of me, and it was only then, when he told me how things really stood, that I realized what a deluded fool I'd been."

Bonnie'd begun to tremble inside and out, so that her voice quavered when she said, "Is that it, then? What you've come all this way to tell me?"

He half-smiled at that, his eyes alight with the love she had so long wanted to see there. "No, sweetheart. I've come three thousand miles to say I am so, so sorry for the pain I've put you through these last few months. I don't know if you can ever forgive me — I don't deserve you should — but if you'll just give me the chance to make it up to you, I promise I'll do everything in my power to see you never regret it." He sought her gaze and held it, his own, for once, unguarded, hiding nothing. "I love you, Bonnie. Please say I'm not too late."

Tears flooded her eyes, blurring his dear, hopeful face. She bit down on her lip, but still it quivered, and, fight as she might against it, she could feel her composure crumbling. "Oh, Bear," she whispered, her voice catching on a sob, "I've been so unhappy."

She sank against him, and his arms came up around her, gathering her close as she wept into his shoulder. He held her tight around the waist with one arm as with his other hand he gently stroked her hair and rubbed her back, murmuring apologies, endearments, self-recriminations and promises, most of which she could barely make out over the noisy storm of her crying. His soothing tone was a comfort, though, as were the kisses he pressed to her temple and in time her pent-up grief was spent, and she was calm again. When she stirred to sit back up, Bear released her, then searched her face with tender concern. "Better?"

She nodded, and wiped ineffectually at her cheeks. Her nose was running, her lashes clumped, her eyes were likely red-rimmed and puffy. "Don't look!" she said, and, averting her face, pulled a tissue from her pocket. She mopped up quickly and as best she could, and then, turned back to Bear, self-conscious. "I must look a fright."

He let his gaze rove over her features, tracing the arch of her brow, the curve of her cheek, the cupid's bow of her lips. Raising his eyes back to hers, he smiled softly. "You could never look anything other than beautiful."

She returned his smile shyly, and, absurdly, looked down. When she glanced up again, it was to find his gaze had dipped down to her smile; to her mouth. His eyes lingered there, then flew up to meet hers, longing and diffidence plain to read in their depths. She leaned forward a fraction, he bent his head to hers, the distance slowly closed between them until their lips all but touched, and…

"Daddy?"

They reeled apart. Danny stood watching them from across the coffee table, his return so well-muffled by the carpet or their focus on each other so complete, they hadn't heard him approach. He looked from one to the other of them quizzically before frowning slightly at his father. "Were you kissing Bonnie, Daddy?"

Bear smiled a little wryly. "That was the idea, buddy."

Danny's small face brightened. "Does that mean you and Bonnie aren't strange anymore?"

Bear turned to Bonnie, his answer as much for her as for Danny. "That's not for me to say."

She read the question in his eyes, his refusal to presume. "Yes," she assured him, and Danny by extension. "Everything's been ironed out. All's forgotten and forgiven."

"And you'll be coming home with us?" Danny persisted, intent, it appeared, on dotting all his i's. "You won't be staying here with Mémé Angela?"

"No. I'll be coming home with you. Hopefully, on the same plane."

"Oh, good!" He came around the table, and, stepping between them, threw an arm about each of their necks. It was only then that he seemed to recall the sheet of paper he clutched in one hand. "I made you a drawing!" he said, turning and wriggling to fit in between them. "It's a picture for our book, Bonnie! Look!"

He held the drawing out for them. It showed the familiar figures of the dinosaur, boy and girl standing in front of a well-rendered Eiffel Tower (which, Danny admitted, Mémé Rosa had sketched in for him). The girl, all smiles, had her back to the tower, while the dinosaur on her left and the boy on her right were in profile, each bent toward her, their lips pressed to her cheek. It might almost have been a vacation selfie.

From the recesses of the apartment, Angela's voice rang out, "Danny! Come quick! The tower's started to sparkle!"

"Coming," he shouted, and, with a "Be right back," handed the drawing to Bonnie and raced off.

They sat silently admiring the sketch a moment longer, and then, Bear twitched it from Bonnie's fingers and set it on the table. "A kiss on the cheek," he mused, slipping his arms around her. "Not a bad idea, but I think it can be improved on."

"Oh?" she said, smiling, and stealing her arms around his neck. "What do you suggest?"

"I think it might be best if I just showed you."

"Is that right? Well, then, by all means, go ahead."

And so he did. Very thoroughly.