64. Preview

Rosa's story remained very much on Bonnie's mind as she continued with her day. She had so many questions she'd've liked to ask, many of which, she had to concede, Rosa could probably not have answered in any case. What, for example, had Estelle told Karl about the morning of Rosa's departure? She doubted Estelle would have admitted she'd had the chance to stop Rosa, and had, instead, encouraged her to go. Had she, then, claimed to have woken up and found her daughter-in-law already gone? Had she pretended that Rosa had only been missing since the morning of Karl's return, and that she, herself, was at her wits' end with worry?

As for Karl's anguish on learning that his wife had run away, Bonnie could hardly bear to think of it. He knew better than anyone how fragile she was emotionally, how inexperienced, how naive. What torments he must have suffered imagining her trying to fend for herself, alone and likely frightened! He would have searched high and low for her; Bonnie was sure of that. Had he called all her friends at the restaurant, hoping she'd taken refuge with one of them? Had he known about her uncles, and had he managed to track them down in Germany? Had he ever found any trace of her, or had he lived until the day he received her letter in a limbo of uncertainty, not knowing if she was alive or dead? The heartache must have been appalling.

Bear had told her he'd once seen his father, the 'widower,' in a romantic light, interpreting his unwillingness to speak of his mother, and his pronounced indifference to other women as signs of a monumental grief, and a devotion to his wife that outlasted even death. Bonnie was practically certain that Bear had not been mistaken, that Karl had never stopped loving Rosa, or mourning her loss. She could picture him so clearly: a quiet man by nature withdrawing ever more into himself, living only for his son, and, perhaps, clinging to the slim hope that Rosa would, some day, return of her own accord. And what of Estelle, who, to take the generous view, had sought to rescue Karl from what she had always considered a disastrous marriage? As the years passed and her darling boy continued heartsick and joyless, had she regretted her part in driving Rosa away? Realizing she'd blighted Karl's life, instead of improved it, had she been eaten up inside with guilt and remorse? Bonnie fervently hoped so.

What saddened her most, however, was that all of Karl and Rosa's suffering had been so unnecessary. It would only have taken Rosa's unburdening herself to one compassionate soul — her doctor, or any of the sympathetic women who'd approached her — for her to learn she was not a freak, that all women, even the outwardly 'perfect' mothers, struggled with fears of inadequacy to some degree. The moral support she'd needed so desperately had been there for the asking, but Rosa, having been raised to equate seeking help with being contemptible, hadn't been able to avail herself of it. She couldn't be blamed, of course, for hiding away what she felt to be her 'shame,' but that didn't make her doing so any less regrettable.

Bonnie was to learn the very next day, however, that being consistently open and honest was not always a simple matter. When, just before quitting time, Bear and Danny surprised the workroom with a visit, she found her heart was full of things she would've liked to say, but had to bite back. Her impulse on seeing Danny in person for the first time since his hospitalization was to exclaim over how much better he looked, but, not wanting to remind him of his convalescence, she said only that she was so very glad he'd come by. In response, he proudly presented her with his two latest T-Rex-series drawings — one, picturing the boy, girl and dinosaur eating cookies out of a dented tin, and the other, the trio splashing about in a swimming pool. All while admiring the pictures as they deserved, she couldn't help but wish she could tell him about the grandfather from whom he'd likely inherited his skill, or the grandmother who'd delight in them even more, possibly, than Bonnie did. It wasn't her place, though, to teach Danny about his family, so she limited herself to praising the drawings on their merits, and offering a few small pointers on how they might be improved.

With Bear, it was harder still to guard her tongue. She wanted to share Rosa's story with him — she felt sure he could not be unaffected by it — but, again, she and Bear were not on such terms that she could meddle in his business without fear of giving offense. Much as she yearned to try, it was not for her to broker a reconciliation between mother and son. They would have to find their way to understanding and forgiveness - or not - in their own good time and fashion.

She found it was awkward, too, knowing aspects of his early life he wasn't aware she knew, and, perhaps, didn't know himself. Those long nights when he'd walked the floor with Danny, had he known enough about his own infancy to appreciate the poetic justice of his situation? Had he ever been told the tale of the day he nearly died, and, if so, whose version? As Bear stood some way off chatting with Gabby, Bonnie's eyes kept straying in his direction, her vision colored by what she'd learned of "Finn."

Later, they were sitting across from each other at a pizzeria, a last slice left on the pan between them, when, looking up from tending to Danny, Bear caught her staring. "What?" he said, brows lowering even as a smile tugged at this lips. "Do I have something in my teeth? Did I miss a spot shaving?"

Bonnie, at a sudden loss for words, felt a flush warm her cheeks. She could hardly admit she'd been thinking just at that moment how much she'd missed him over the previous week. There'd come a time, she knew, when she'd be able to speak plainly and from the heart, but, unless she resigned her Jeff fellowship — an out she did not, at all, see herself taking — that day was still four long months down the road. She promised herself she'd be bold when her chance came, that, as soon as she could do so without impropriety, she'd tell Bear what she really felt for him, whether he wanted to hear it or not. In the interim, though, she was obliged to observe the appearance, at least, of professional distance. She scrambled for something plausible to say, but could only come up with, "I was… ah… thinking it's too bad your vacation's over. For you," she amended hastily. "Not for me. Obviously, you can't come back to work too soon for my liking. Not that I… I mean… La Coupe d'amour…"

"Needs finishing, pronto," he supplied, his bland tone at odds with the twinkle in his eyes.

Bonnie was too grateful for his help to mind being laughed at. "Exactly!" she said, more easily. "The deadline's coming up on us fast."

At that, the small smile Bear'd been holding back slipped free. "No, that's not it. You're impatient on your own account, admit it!"

Heart thudding unpleasantly, she tried her best to hold his gaze. "I... don't know what you mean."

"After all the months of work, you're anxious to see, for yourself, how the painting looks restored to its former glory. You're chomping at the bit."

Bonnie covered her relief with a rueful smile. "Guilty as charged, but that doesn't rule out my being genuinely sorry you have to rush back after only a week off. I know you were hoping to take two weeks together."

"Actually," he said, not quite offhandedly, "I don't mind cutting my vacation short this year. Just now, I find I'd rather be at the Jeff."

The words were accompanied by such a candid look, Bonnie was left, for a moment, too short of breath to utter more than a nearly voiceless, "Oh!" And then, equally inane to her own ears, "I.. I'm glad."

No last-minute difficulties or unforeseen problems arose over the next few days to delay the completion of their work on La Coupe d'amour, and by the middle of the following week, the painting, its surface glossy with a fresh layer of varnish, needed only to be set back into its reinforced and freshly-gilded frame to be ready for its gala debut. Bonnie, feasting her eyes on the refurbished masterpiece, felt a swell of joy and satisfaction at what, between them, she and Bear had accomplished. It was impossible to know how closely they'd approximated the original look of the painting, but that, in any case, had never been the goal. They'd been charged, not with erasing any and all signs of age and wear, but with making the beauty of Lebrun's timeless image accessible again with the least possible intervention, and this, she thought, relishing the wealth of detail, brighter tones, and greater definition they'd uncovered, they'd managed with indisputable success. She honestly did not think they could have done better, and Bear, while he wouldn't go so far as to pat himself on the back, seemed pleased.

When they submitted their work for Dr. Cummings' evaluation, their boss had not a single criticism or concern to air. "You've outdone yourself, Baer," he said appreciatively, his eyes roving over the transfigured painting with evident approval. At Bear's rather pointedly clearing his throat, he added quickly, "And you, too, of course, Bonnie! Forgive me! It's just such a lot to process. The improvement's…" He shook his head wonderingly. "…staggering. Wait till old doubting Henri sees this!" He chuckled happily, likely in anticipation of triumphing over his French friend, and turned to beam at each of them in turn. "This calls for a celebration! We'll have the whole department in, and raise a glass to your achievement in bringing this extraordinary work back to glorious life. Champagne all around, on me!"

So it was that, late on the Friday afternoon before the gala, the Jeff conservators were treated to an exclusive preview of La Coupe d'amour in all its renovated splendor. Bonnie, feeling absurdly proprietorial, stood a short distance back from the painting at first, observing her colleagues' reactions, and delighting in their admiring nods, enthusiastic comments, and animated gestures. They were not stingy, either, with their kudos when later, flutes of Veuve Clicquot in hand, they congratulated her warmly on her part in having brought such a high-profile project to an impeccable conclusion. "It's a red-letter day for all of us," one of the long-tenured members of the staff told her, toasting Bonnie with his glass. "You've done the department proud." On the other side of the workroom, Bear was, similarly, surrounded by people eager to shake his hand, and share their appreciation for a job well-done. It wasn't, indeed, until the bottles ran dry, and the arrival of the Event Staff to collect the painting signaled the end of the party that Bear was finally free to cross to where Bonnie stood talking with Gabby.

"A few of us are moving the festivities down to The Corner," Gabby said, when he'd come up to them. "You two care to join us? One more drink?"

Bonnie, however, had a last appointment with her dressmaker that evening, and Bear, an invitation to dine with the Jolicoeurs. "I've been meaning to ask you…" Bonnie said, when Gabby, having admonished them to have fun at the gala, had gone her way. "How'd the childcare arrangement go this week? Is it going to pan out, do you think?"

He nodded. "Looks like a win for everyone. Caro says Luc and Danny keep each other so well-entertained, it's actually less trouble to have the two of them together than Luc on his own. She's even making noises about not wanting to be paid, but that's a non-starter. Knowing Danny's in a safe place, where he's happy and being looked after by a person who treats him like a second son, that's worth everything to me."

"And, anyway, it'll only be for a few hours in the afternoon once school starts, right?"

"Yeah, and there's the bonus that Caro's available to pick the boys up every day, so that's a huge weight off my mind. Did I mention the two of them have been begging all week to have a sleep-over? We're going to give it a try tomorrow night."

"Really?" Bonnie nearly clapped her hands for gladness. "That's so perfect! Danny's been wanting to spend the night at a friend's house for ages. And you! Well!" She grinned up at him impishly. "Now you're going to be able to really cut loose at the after-party, and boogie the night away!"

Bear snorted a laugh. "Sure. That's just my speed." They shared a moment's dry amusement, and then, Bear, sobering, said, "There's something I've been meaning to ask you, too. About… Rosa. You haven't, by any chance, spoken to her recently?"

Feeling, suddenly, all the awkwardness of her situation, Bonnie regarded him uneasily. "We talked last week. She called to assure me they'd received all my application materials."

"And that's all?" he pressed. "She didn't mention anything about retaining a lawyer to represent Val?"

"That did come up," she said cautiously. "She was anxious, naturally I think, that you'd misconstrue her actions as taking Val's side against you…"

"To get back at me." He nodded grimly. "She was right about that. I thought she'd brought in her hired gun to get Val off with no more than a slap on the wrist. But that's not what's happened."

"Has the case has been settled, then?" Bonnie asked, surprised. "When? What've you heard?"

"I got the news a few hours ago: they've reached a deal."

"And…?"

"She'll plead guilty to misdemeanor child endangerment. That usually carries a sentence of six months' jail time and three years' probation, plus a five hundred dollar fine, but, since this is her first offense, and her attorney was able to argue that she'd shown bad judgment rather than a conscious disregard for Danny's safety, the prosecutor's agreed to recommend a reduced fine, mandatory parenting classes and personal counseling in lieu of three months' jail time, and a year's probation."

Bonnie stifled a sigh of relief. It was only right that Val suffer the consequences of her actions, but she couldn't be sorry the penalty wasn't harsh. "And what about custody? She's not getting Danny back?"

"No, I'm going to keep full custody, at least during the probationary period. If she satisfies all the conditions of the agreement, and stays out of trouble for a year, she can petition the court to regain custody, but between now and then, I only have to allow her two supervised visits a week. Anything more is at my discretion."

Bear's flat, factual tone was at such odds with the gist of his report that Bonnie was confused. "That's good, right? It's what you wanted."

"Wanted," he acknowledged gravely, "but didn't expect. Like I said, I assumed whatever deal Rosa had her lawyer push for would be skewed to Val's advantage."

"And you're unhappy that it's fair to all concerned instead? What am I missing?"

He shot her an odd look, part annoyance, part uneasiness. "I owe her. Rosa, I mean. I'm not comfortable with that."

"Oh!" All at once, the puzzle pieces fell into place: Rosa had failed to live "down" to his expectations of her, forcing him to reconsider his attitude, and raising the troubling possibility he'd misjudged her, not only in present instance but all along. "If it helps at all, I don't think she particularly wants or expects you to be grateful."

"No?" He turned to look at her intently. "Why she'd do it, then?"

Bonnie shook her head. "I can't speak for her." And then, because he'd given her the opening, and because she might never have a second, she took the gamble of saying, "Maybe it's time you gave her the chance to tell you her story, to explain her side of things."

Bear seemed to take her words under advisement. "Maybe," he conceded, at length. "I'll think about it."

A/N: Sorry to be slow as molasses! Next chapter: the Jeff Gala and Trev returns!