What He Offered
Chapter 12: Carnival
Bones found herself becoming seriously annoyed. While she had known, going in, that she would figure largely in any exploration of Booth's history with women, she did not think that gave him (or, more likely Dr. Cameron) the right to treat her as an object of psychological analysis. She was not the patient here! She had not signed up for therapy, and she resented their impertinence in treating her as a case study. All that invented nonsense about the Christmas presents! As an author, she appreciated the drama that twist added to the tale, but she felt strongly that, in fleshing out a sub-plot for J.R., Booth et al had crossed a line into personal territory without her permission. If they did not steer their tale back onto the track she had expected to be traveling, she was going to jump off their narrative train! For the moment, she continued reading.
A Tale of Twin Booths, cont'd
On the drive out, J. R. told him more about herself and Brennan. In her view, Temper had always been a daddy's girl: she and their father shared interests in math and hard science, had similar headstrong personalities, were each challenged by the other, and loved engaging in physical activity. J. R., on the other hand, had gravitated more toward their mother: she was mommy's little helper in the kitchen, enjoyed being taught home handicrafts, such as knitting and macramé, loved playing dress-up, and reading Sweet Valley High. The twins hadn't always been at loggerheads, she admitted; they had sometimes played quite pleasantly together, always provided, of course, that Temper organized and presided over the game. J. R. hadn't minded following Temper's lead because her twin's ideas were always so much more involved and entertaining than her own, and besides, it was easier to go with the flow than fight it.
Tim saw many parallels between his growing up with Vic post-abandonment and the picture J. R. painted, to such a degree, indeed, that he wondered if she had left out what had been a prominent part of his experience. "Did Brennan ever hit you?"
She swiveled in the passenger seat and gaped at him. "How did you know?" When he shrugged, J. R. went on, "She was a biter in the early years, but she was cured of that pretty quick. Later on, when she'd get frustrated because I was too slow, or too stupid, she would smack me hard, but it was never a sustained beating, only the one occasional blow."
Tim might have told her that Brennan had not changed much in that respect, but he decided such a remark would be impolitic, and, in any case, by that time they had arrived at the fairground.
Tim pulled into a parking space, and turned off the ignition. "Ready?"
J. R. made no move to open the passenger side door. "How… how do I look?"
She twisted in her seat to allow him a better view of her face.
Tim wanted to say 'you look every bit as beautiful as your sister,' but he knew that would be premature. "You're going want to give him some clue as to your identity, J. R., so I recommend storing the glasses, and doing something with those bangs. Brush them to the side, or pin them back, if you can."
She rooted in her purse, and came up with a thin, black hairband that she used to secure the bangs off her forehead. "Better?"
With her face fully exposed, and the features free of make-up, she might very well resemble the teenager Russ Brennan had last seen in his rear-view mirror. "Better."
Having met with his approval, J. R. let herself out of the car. Tim noticed she had left her twill coat behind, and threw it over his arm before going after her. "Here," he said, holding the coat open for her to slip into. "It's going to get chilly soon, now the sun's set."
She allowed herself to be helped into the coat, and side by side, they set off together toward the carnival lights. The midway was bright and garish with multi-colored bulbs flashing, and noisy with jaunty music and barkers exhorting passersby to stop and sample their wares or their game. The enticing aroma of fried dough and cotton candy tantalized Tim's nostrils, making him realize he'd had nothing to eat since lunch; he hadn't even touched the coffee he'd bought himself earlier. He stopped at a concession stand and purchased two funnel cakes and enough good will to have his inquiry as to the likely whereabouts of Russ Brennan answered: the ferris wheel.
Russ had just secured the last safety bar in place, and was starting the wheel in motion when they came up to him. Russ knew Tim, of course, having spent the greater part of the previous day in his company. His eyes passed over J. R. with curiosity but no recognition. "Agent Booth. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. Not that it isn't a pleasure."
"Evening, Russ. Listen, could you maybe get someone to cover for you for a short while? There's someone I'd like you to meet."
Russ glanced behind him at the people waiting their turn in line, and the people in their gondolas being lazily raised and lowered. "Ride just started. I can give you five minutes, maybe a few more."
Tim decided that would have to do. "J. R., you take it from here. I'll be right over by the carousel, finishing my funnel cake, if you need me."
Tim strolled over to the barrier circling the merry-go-round, firmly resolved to give the siblings their privacy but he found he couldn't resist repeatedly glancing over his shoulder at them until finally he gave up all pretense of keeping his back turned. He saw J. R., with many a hesitation and nervous gesture, reveal her identity, and Russ go through stages of mild interest, confusion, astonishment and finally, unmitigated joy. He crushed his sister to him, his eyes squeezed tight to better relish the feel of her, his mouth stretched in a smile so wide his cheeks must surely have protested. The surrounding carny-goers, seeing in the dramatic reconciliation something, no doubt, more romantic in nature, burst into clamorous cheers and applause.
Eventually, Russ drew back but he did not let her go entirely. He held her at arms' length and looked into her up-turned face as though he still couldn't believe his eyes. When Tim approached, thinking surely more than five minutes had elapsed, Russ stopped talking in mid-sentence and, releasing J. R., extended his hand. "Thanks, man. Really. You can't know what this means to me. To have some of my family back…" He swallowed hard, unable to continue, but Tim didn't need words to perceive his bottomless gratitude. Russ nodded his head, a last acknowledgement, then said, "Look, I've got people to let off and on, but… Can you guys hang around a while longer? There's still so much to say."
J. R. turned a beaming, hopeful face his way, and in that moment, Tim penetrated the mystery of why Vic could deny Brennan nothing. I'm toast, he thought. He assured Russ that they would clear out of the way so as not to impede the passengers about to disembark, and return when the next group of riders had assumed their seats.
"Thank you, Tim! Oh, thank you so much!" J.R. said, as they walked a short distance off. "I don't know how I'll ever repay your kindness…"
"You can begin by forgiving me for distressing you this afternoon. With all my training, I should have handled the situation less clumsily."
"Don't beat yourself up about it, Tim, please. There's no good way to deliver that kind of news. And, what does it matter now, anyway? I've got a brother, Tim! A brother!" She bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet, like an excited child. "And, he's promised to keep my secret from Temper! We'll be our own little family, Russ and I."
Tim could not have said, afterward, what prompted him to look up at exactly that instant; perhaps it was his twin "spidey sense" springing back to life. Whatever alerted him, he raised his head and, scanning the milling crowd, spotted a familiar dark head in a well-known khaki jacket making his way down the midway with, on his left, an equally familiar companion. "J. R.," he said, striving to keep his voice calm and reassuring. "Don't turn around. No, don't! Please." He steered her by the elbow into the deepest shadow he could find and, looking over her shoulder, saw his partners closing in on the ferris wheel.
"Tim? What is it? What's going on?"
"Don't panic, J. R. It's Brennan. She's here."