10. Danny

Bonnie considered Danny, standing so still before her, with trepidation. Her experience with very young children, if distilled into a liquid, would not have filled a faery's thimble. At least, she consoled herself, he showed no indication of flinging himself frantically after his mother, or breaking down into copious tears. "So, Danny…" she began cautiously, "it looks like it's you and me for a bit. You want to sit down? I can pull up a chair for you."

Danny looked about at the seats on offer, and shook his head. He moved up to Bonnie's side, and stood staring at the landscape.

Taking this as a favorable sign, Bonnie took up her cleaning wand, and dipped it slowly into the jar of solvent. "You know, Danny, I'm very glad you're here. Removing old varnish from beautiful paintings is important work, but it can get tedious. I mean, boring," she added hastily. She rolled the cotton tip gently over the painting's surface, coaxing the yellow layer off. "With you to keep me company, the work won't be so dull." Danny said nothing, intent on watching the once-white swab collect its burden of dirt. "So, Danny, tell me… ah… how old are you?" Bonnie knew the answer, but she seemed to remember it was the first question adults would put to her when she was a child.

Danny lifted his right hand, and splayed his fingers: five.

"I see. And, do you go to school?"

He nodded a decided 'yes' to that question, and to each of the subsequent, such that Bonnie learned a number of things about Danny (he did, indeed, like school, his teacher was very nice, he had lots of friends) without once having heard him speak. She removed the soiled tip from her wand, and prepared another. "What's your favorite thing to do at school?" she ventured.

"Draw pictures," Danny said without hesitation. He had a high, sweet voice, and an endearing inability to pronounce his r's.

"Well, that's something we have in common, then. What's your favorite thing to draw?"

"Dinosaurs."

"Dinosaurs," Bonnie repeated, doing her best to sound impressed. Her brother Junior's first love had been all things Jurassic, and Max, perhaps in emulation, had gone through a "terrible lizard" phase of his own. Bonnie was on very familiar ground. "I like the plant-eaters, like brontosaurus and iguanadon, myself. How about you?"

"Stegosaurus," Danny replied with great certainty, only to correct himself, "No, triceratops!"

Bonnie was hit by a sudden brainstorm. "Danny, if I give you a big sheet of paper, and some pencils, do you think you could do a dinosaur drawing for me? Any dinosaur you want, except Tyrannosaurus Rex. He's too scary!"

Already in the process of shrugging off his backpack, Danny grinned at her hugely, displaying a fine set of small, even teeth. "Oh, Miss Bonnie! You're so silly. Dinosaurs can't hurt you. They're all 'xtinct!"

"You've got me there," she admitted, with a laugh, "but there are still plenty of creatures in the world today with great, big jaws full of razor-sharp teeth, like lions and tigers."

"And bears," Danny added, with a knowing nod.

"And Baers," Bonnie agreed.

She tore off a generous piece of the white butcher paper they used to envelope finished paintings for transport, and would have set Danny up at a nearby table, but he preferred to stretch out on the floor and bring forth his creation while lying flat on his stomach. He was immediately engrossed in his project, leaving Bonnie free to return the greater part of her attention to her task.

The last square-inch section proved especially delicate to treat, forcing Bonnie to lower the lenses of her magnifying headset and focus minutely on the resistant patch. Finally, convinced that not a single particle of varnish remained, she settled back with a satisfied sigh, and, pulling her headset off, looked down to check on Danny, only to find that he had fallen asleep, his head pillowed on one arm, a pencil loose in his limp hand. She was thinking how very cute he was in his peaceful abandon when a dry cough some feet away alerted her to a new presence in the room. Glancing around, she saw her supervisor just inside the workroom door. "Oh, Dr. Baer, there you are!" she said with some relief. A quick peek at her wrist watch informed her that Val's "any minute" had become a full three quarters of an hour.

Dr. Baer's dark brows knit together, and he regarded her narrowly. "Here I am, indeed, Miss Booth-Hodgins. If I don't mistake, your tone implies you've been expecting me for some time, though why that should be the case, I am sure I have no idea." He started toward her unhurriedly. "If you were hoping I'd happen by and be favorably impressed by your zeal and dedication… Whoa!" He was brought up almost comically short by the sight of the little body sprawled on the floor. "What in the world…?"

Not wanting the little boy to be startled into wakefulness, Bonnie stepped in front of Dr. Baer. "Danny's fine. He just fell asleep waiting for you."

"Danny? Danny, who?" His eyes rounded suddenly, and the color drained from his face. "No!" he breathed out. "No, it can't…!" He brushed past her unceremoniously, and in two strides, was kneeling by his son, his big hand gently cupping one small shoulder, his head bent low. "Hey there, sleepy head, hey now," he said softly. "Time to wake up, buddy."

Danny, his nap disturbed, grumbled crankily at first, and then, recognizing his father's voice, slowly blinked his eyes open. "Hi, Daddy," he said, drowsily. "Mommy said you'd come."

"She did, did she? Okay, now, easy does it. Up you go." Once Danny was in a sitting position, Dr. Baer gathered him into his arms, and hugged him tight. "Did you wait a long time? You know I'd've come a lot sooner if I'd known you were here, right?"

"It's okay. I was making a dinosaur for Miss Bonnie. Want to see?"

"You bet I do!" He allowed Danny to scramble off his lap, and together they bent over the drawing of a creature that, from the last glimpse Bonnie had had of it, resembled nothing so much as a python with a greatly distended abdomen. "Wow, that's really good! It's not done, though, is it? I don't see any legs."

"It's a plesiosaur, Daddy," Danny explained with a child's condescension. "It needs flippers, not legs!"

"A plesiosaur, of course! That's obvious as can be. So, listen: do you want to finish your drawing for Miss…er… Bonnie now, or shall we take it home…" Danny, however, had already taken up a pencil, so Dr. Baer moved obligingly out of his way, and rose to his feet. "Okay, then. Take your time. I'll be just over here…"

The words "if I'd known" had been echoing in Bonnie's mind since she'd heard Dr. Baer utter them, and what they implied of her role in this family drama filled her with a kind of horror and helpless chagrin. "I'm so sorry," she said, as he approached her. "I just assumed…"

"It's not for you to apologize." Dr. Baer spoke with his usual curtness, but Bonnie didn't sense any anger, at least not toward herself. "You're not to blame. She took advantage of you; that's what she does. I don't doubt she told you it was all arranged, she was supposed to leave Danny here with me."

Bonnie nodded unhappily. "She said she knocked on your office door…"

"She lied. Another of her specialties. I was stuck in a teleconference with some West Coast colleagues from about four-thirty until a few minutes ago. If she'd knocked, I'd've heard her, but she wouldn't've tried. It wasn't in her interests to find me. I told her 'no' twice already this week. She knew, if she wanted to get her way, she was going to have to force my hand. So, that's what she did, with you as her unwitting accomplice."

Bonnie heard them again, those shrill accusations of selfishness, meanness and vengefulness that had pierced the tranquility of the conservation workroom. All the shouting had been about this, she realized, about who would assume responsibility for Danny. She deduced that it was Val's week-end to be in charge, and that she had petitioned her ex, as a favor, to switch or simply to fill in for her, and that Dr. Baer had refused, provoking Val to resort to her rash and reprehensible ploy. "I don't understand," she said, thinking out loud, "and I know it's not my business, but… why did she feel she had to maneuver you into this? Couldn't you have just taken Danny for the week-end?"

She felt him stiffen beside her, and knew, to her dismay, that she had crossed the line and inadvertently given offense. She was about to withdraw the question, with apologies, when he said, "It is, as you say, none of your business, Miss Booth-Hodgins, but you've been dragged into this through not fault of your own, so you are, perhaps, entitled to an explanation. To be clear, Danny is the most important person in my world, and I would like nothing better than to have him live with me on a permanent basis. If I ever have the chance to gain full custody, I will fight for it, tooth and nail. As for this week-end, Val was under no illusion as to my availability. She knew, because I reminded her repeatedly, that I have a long-standing professional commitment tomorrow."

"Oh, yes! Of course: the Jeff Outreach." Twice yearly, the Jeffersonian invited the public to bring in their privately-held artworks and artifacts for potential acceptance into a no-fee restoration program. Conservators were on hand all day to assess each item's treatment needs with an eye to choosing projects which would prove both technically challenging and not excessively difficult for the trainees in the museum's various conservation departments. Owners of selected items received, in time, a professionally-conserved heirloom at no charge while the museum sourced quality pieces on which its students could hone their practical skills: a win-win for everyone involved. The event had entirely slipped Bonnie's mind as Outreach, while of immense importance to the museum's conservation initiative, had no scope for intern participation. "I expect the turnout will be enormous, as usual."

"Which is the reason all qualified staff members are required to take part, but, of course, Val couldn't let that stand in the way of an all-expense-paid week-end getaway to Atlantic City with her tony pals." The bitterness and scorn were back in his voice, an ugly, unpleasant sound. Dr. Baer sighed wearily. "We've imposed entirely too much on your time and good nature, Miss Booth-Hodgins. I'll just see about getting you that drawing, so you can resume whatever plans you had for the evening. Thank you, sincerely, for looking after Danny. I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn't been here. And, my apologies for the inconvenience you've been put to." With that, he turned back to his son.