Winter Journeys

Chapter 7 Bonnie's arrival

As Grace rode back from her "garden" the final time that Sunday, she saw a big-bellied woman standing on the Cavalo's back porch, and knew that Bonnie had arrived. As she rode into the big back yard, Bonnie waddled down the stairs. "That looks like fun."

"Fun?" echoed Grace crossly. She was cold and tired, and her legs ached from their unaccustomed position spread out on the horse. It all came with the job, but she didn't need Bonnie treating the whole thing as a vacation.

"Riding your horse. Could you teach me?"

Grace dismounted. "No way. Number one, I don't have experience teaching; number two, you might fall off, and I can't risk the consequences in your condition. Number three, you're not even supposed to ride for a long time in a car without taking breaks to walk; riding astride would seem to be counter- indicated. Even I can tell that." Grace vividly reminded a painful incident last summer, when an awkward position on her horse had caused a certain delicate membrane to snap. Diana had soothed her pain and assured her that it was not an uncommon accident for girls riding horses astride. That wasn't exactly Bonnie's problem, but-

Hadn't Bonnie been at Maggie Begh's equestrian party, back in September when it was safer? Yes, but she hadn't gotten on top of a horse then. She had used the occasion to announce her pregnancy to the girls of the school.

Grace led her horse toward the stable. Bonnie followed. "You can just let me get on board and lead me around the yard."

"Giving pony rides is not part of my job description." Grace entered the stable and looked for an empty stall. The pregnant girl followed her in for a second, then apparently got a whiff of manure and exited hastily, her hand over her mouth to keep from throwing up. Grace scowled happily. Horse dung actually came in useful on occasion.

Grace showered off in the house, with lots of hot water, and felt warm and refreshed. Returning to her room, she found Bonnie stretched out on the bed reading a magazine, her luggage still sitting in the floor. Even her swollen stomach irritated Grace, as if Bonnie was trying to maximize the space that she was taking over.

"Look," Grace commanded. "This side of the room is for my stuff, and that side of the room is for your stuff, and never the twain shall meet. Later we may flip a coin for the bed."

Bonnie stared at Grace, but instead of replying directly she went straight to the point. "Why do you hate me so much? We hardly know each other."

"You really want to know? OK. I've basically got two best friends in the world, Rove and Girardi. Last spring, you screwed Rove. When Girardi found out, she went ballistic, and I was stuck in the middle. I could've lost one or both of my friends, and it would have been your fault, bitch. If you can cause me that much trouble without knowing me, I really don't want to make your acquaintance."

The two glared at each other for a moment, to be finally interrupted by Jean Cavalo calling out from downstairs: "Suppertime!"

Grace spun around and marched downstairs, with Bonnie following in her wake.

There was a Christmas carol playing on the radio. As Grace walked in, Jonathan Cavalo reached to turn it off, but Grace held up her hand. "It's all right. Christmas music doesn't bother me." She had spent much of last winter's holiday with the Girardis. Helen, in reaction to the tragedy of Judith's death and under the influence of her Catholic friend Lily, had developed a nostalgic love for Christmas carols and everybody else had either shared or indulged it.

"Well, thank you, Grace. We ought to help you celebrate your holiday as well. There's a special candelabra, right?"

Grace took a seat. Bonnie, rather predictably, took a seat at the opposite end of the table, as far from Grace as she could.

"A menorah. With space for nine candles, eight plus a special one. The idea is to light one candle each day for the week of Hannukah."

"What's the symbolism behind that?" asked Brian Cavalo.

"The story was that some Jews had lost and regained the Temple during a war, and they wanted to rededicate it, which included tending a sacred fire. They were very low on oil, which was the main fuel at the time, but God miraculously multiplied the fuel so that they could keep their fire going for a week and a day. We light eight candles in memory of the miracle."

"Cool," said Bonnie. "I wish God would look after me like that."

Grace looked across the table in surprise at Bonnie's wistful tone. Dumped by her lover, kicked out by her parents, knowing she could not keep her child at birth, shuttling back in forth between various protectors at a time her hormones were encouraging her to "nest". Bonnie must feel terribly alone in the world.

And wasn't it a weird coincidence that she had uttered her wish for God, only a few feet away from one of God's errand girls?