53. Pact

Bonnie's first reaction was to scoff. "Trev doesn't play those kinds of games, Gramps. He doesn't have a devious bone in his body."

"Agreed, and that's why he made such a hash of it."

"And he must've know I wouldn't believe Vanna was making a real play for him. She told me herself not two weeks ago she wouldn't."

"Bad choice of accomplice on his part, then, but could be he didn't have a lot of options. Let me ask you this: what if it hadn't been Vanna but one of the other girls at the party making goo-goo eyes at your guy? Would that've gotten under your skin?"

It didn't require any great feat of the imagination to put herself in that position. Trev regularly drew admiring looks, and the previous evening had been no exception. He'd been the focus of many a shy glance as well as several openly appreciative stares. One particularly brazen co-ed had slanted a number of come-hither looks his way. "I know Trev's attractive to other women. It doesn't bother me. Are you implying it should?"

"Not at all. Jealousy's a danger sign in a relationship."

"Exactly! It'd mean I don't trust him, and I do, absolutely."

"And that's as it should be, but here's the thing: Trev doesn't seem to have the same rock-steady confidence in you. That's what last night was about, if you ask me: Trev trying to get a handle on how much you care. Considering the way he went about it, I'm guessing he's feeling pretty insecure on that score." He regarded her soberly a long moment. "I don't mean to tell you your business, Bonbon…"

She waved this aside. "Don't worry about it, Gramps. Go ahead."

"Well, you might want to give some serious thought as to whether you're being fair to the man. It's been — what? — three months since you turned down his proposal? I know he said he's okay with waiting, that he wouldn't press for an answer, but it's obvious being in limbo's doing a number on him. I think, under the circumstances, you'd do well to sit yourself down, search your heart and make up your mind. Soon."

Despite the warmth of the sun, Bonnie felt a chill steal over her. She wanted to protest she wasn't ready, she couldn't possibly decide, but she knew her grandfather was right: if taking her time came at the expense of Trev's serenity, the price was too high. "It's just… I'm still wavering. I can't say a whole-hearted yes, but I don't want to say no, either."

At the far end of the pool, Max heaved himself out of the water, and reached for a towel. Booth watched his lanky grandson dry himself off and stretch out on a deck chair to catch some rays. "Did I ever tell you the story behind that print of the clownfish and the anemone I commissioned from Grammy A?"

Bonnie was jarred by the non-sequitur, but went with the change. "Sure. You gave it to Grammy one Christmas because it's an illustration of symbiosis, and that's how Grammy saw your marriage."

He inclined his head. "We were riding in the car one afternoon, and she was boasting that all her male interns were hot for her, and, well, I lost it. I'm not proud to say I was crazy jealous of Grammy in the early years, and that didn't change all that much even after your mom was born and we'd been married a good while. Anyway, she read me the riot act that day, and, long story short, that was the last fit of jealousy I ever had. And you know why? Because Grammy said she couldn't survive without me. Her exact words."

Bonnie was too moved for a moment to say more than a soft "Wow, Gramps!" and then, after a beat, "I don't remember ever hearing that story."

"Never told anyone. It was a 'just ours' moment, the kind we always kept between ourselves." He fixed her with his penetrating gaze. "You understand why I'm telling you now?"

She returned his look helplessly. "It's a good question to ask in theory, Gramps, but how am I supposed to figure out if I can live without Trev? The longest we've ever been apart is the year I was in France, and, even then, he visited three times, and we video-chatted every day."

His expression softened with regret and commiseration. "There's only one sure-fire way to find out, Tootsie Pop. I think you know what that is."

A long afternoon later, Bonnie finally returned Trev's call. He was just about to head out to the Death Knellies' concert, and couldn't talk long, which suited Bonnie fine. He frowned in concern to see her still pallid and listless, but she assured him she wasn't ill, only tired, and when she suggested they go walking the next afternoon at Ashby Pond, he brightened at once. "That's a nice little park. Not much in the way of trails, though. Tell you what: the weather's supposed to hold through tomorrow night. Let's get an early start, and go a little further afield."

"Not this time."

"Okay," he said slowly, the hint of a question in his voice. "Ashby it is. Pick you up around one?"

"Make it two. And I'll meet you there."

"That's when alarm bells went off in my head," he told her. They had completed one circuit of the pond, and were sitting side by side on a low, metal bench overlooking the water, ostensibly drinking in the tranquility of the scene before them. Their backs were turned to the paved walkway several feet behind them, and the ducks who might have witnessed Bonnie's knuckling away a tear were intent on their own affairs. "I spent all of last night and this morning dreading the worst." He nudged her with his elbow. "You ruined the Death Knellies' show for me, you know that?"

She smiled wanly. "I'm sure the band managed all on their own."

"Yeah, they were a major disappointment." A mallard pair cut through the placid water, leaving a chevron of ripples in their wake. "I'm sorry, again, about Friday night. I don't know what I was thinking. You're positive we can't just turn back the clock, and pretend it never happened?"

She nodded sadly. "Looking back, I realized you've been throwing up red flags for a while. It's just taken me this long to see them for what they were. I don't mean to pretend I never suspected something was wrong. That day we hiked Great Falls, and you didn't invite me back to your place? I sensed something was up, but I had no clue you were trying to give me a taste of my own medicine. You wanted me to feel less sure of you, less complacent, but I didn't. I'm sorry about that, Trev."

"Yeah, well, I should've been straight with you instead of expecting you to read between the lines. Anyway, the problem's out in the open now. I don't see why we can't just work through it together, and move on."

"Because it's not enough to admit our faults and resolve to do better. We can't get anywhere unless we deal with the real issue, which is the uncertainty both of us feel. You need to know where we're headed as a couple, and I need to decide."

"And to do that, you need a three-month break…"

"Ten weeks."

"… so you can ascertain whether or not you can live without me." He repeated her words carefully, as if to verify he'd not misheard. At her nod, he went on, "I've got a counterproposal for you, then: move in with me for the summer, and see if you can live with me. That'd make more sense."

She shook her head. "I need the chance to miss you, Trev. You're always there for me, no matter what, always loving, supportive, generous and true. I should be thanking my lucky stars, but instead I've been taking you for granted. It's hard to appreciate the value of something — or someone — you never have to do without." She broke off, defeated. "I'm not putting this well."

"No, I get it. You don't always know what you've got till it's gone." On the far bank, soaring trees crowded the water's edge, their full green canopies unmoving in the heavy air. There might have been birds among the branches, but they did not call out or sing. "So, no contact at all until September: no phoning, no texts, no running into each other accidentally on purpose, no pumping mutual friends for information. We go cold turkey starting today. And then, at the end of ten weeks, you'll have a firm answer for me. That's the deal?"

"You also have to make a conscientious effort to meet somebody else. I mean it, Trev. It has to be a real test for both of us."

He kicked first one heel, then the other, against the concrete platform, dislodging clods of dirt from his boots. At length, he asked, "And if I nix the separation, what then?"

"I give you my answer now."

"That's what I thought." He heaved a sigh heavy with resignation. "All right. I'll take the reprieve. Just one thing —- no, make it two. First, my mother asked me to remind you that it's nearly time to start planning this Fall's Fashion Show fundraiser. What do I tell her?"

Bonnie's heart squeezed at the thought of Freya. "I'll take care of it. What else?"

"Vanna. Don't be mad at her about Friday, okay? I practically had to twist her arm to get her on board. If she loses your friendship through any fault of mine…"

"She won't. I spoke to her, actually, this morning. You must've shared your misgivings with her last night, because she called to apologize for her role in upsetting me." And, perhaps not incidentally, to plead Trev's case. Vanna had urged her to believe Trev's motivation had been nothing more blameworthy than the desire to show off for his beloved, a claim Bonnie'd pretended to entertain for politeness' sake. "All's forgiven."

"Did you tell her about…" He waggled a hand between the them.

"No. I only said we were going to talk."

They lapsed into silence. A cloud moved lazily over the sun, its shadow dark on the water. The mallard pair had settled down on a little spit of land, looking, in repose, remarkably like decoys that might have graced the Senator's collection. From the pathway above, there came the rhythmic thud of footsteps, the clink of metal, and a snatch of conversation, quickly fading away: other visitors walking their dog. Trev leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked across his shoulder at her. "So… no time like the present?"

"I guess."

She pushed slowly to her feet, and turned to face him, a lump forming in her throat. He rose, too, and stood looking down at her, no more equal to the moment, apparently, than she. At last, with some effort, he produced a smile for her, and said, with assumed cheer, "You know, I think I'll do the pond loop again. Need to stretch my legs after sitting so long."

"Oh! Okay. That sounds… good."

He held out his arms, and she stepped into his warm embrace for perhaps the last time. She held him close, fighting back more tears. "Please don't think this'll be easy for me," she choked out.

He ran his hand soothingly up and down her back. "We're going to be fine, Bonita Angel. Don't go making any plans for Labor Day, you hear?" He pulled back, kissed her forehead, and set her away from him. "Now, here's what we're going to do. On the count of three, we turn and walk in opposite directions, you to the parking lot, me to the trail. Ready? One… two… three."

Bonnie had taken a dozen steps before she succumbed to the temptation to look back over her shoulder. She was just in time to see Trev striding toward the first bend in the pathway. He veered to the right, and was gone.