What He Offered
Chapter 33: Chris and Tina
"Bones? What're you doing out here?" Booth stood by the side of the couch, looking down at her, concern writ clearly on his face. "When I woke up and found you gone, I got worried."
She swung her legs off the cushions to make room for him. "I couldn't sleep," she said, keeping her voice just above a whisper. "And, it's all your fault: I had to know how the tale ended."
He settled down beside her, his poor abused skeleton cracking and creaking as synovial gas was released. "I'm gratified you found the story compelling, but I never meant for you to lose sleep over it. How far have you gotten?"
"Let's see…" She peered down at the screen. "I'm at the section entitled 'A Tale of Twin Booths: Coda'."
"Whoa! You're right at the end. I've got to admit: this last section might be my favorite part."
"Really?" She wasn't quite able to suppress a laugh. "Not the 'climax' or 'consummation' scenes?"
It was hard to tell in the dim light, but he actually appeared to be blushing. "Yeah, well, I thought those… ah… descriptions were a bit much, but Dr. Phil kind of insisted. Speaking of which, the first sentence, right after the subtitle…"
Bones consulted the display again, and read aloud, "Reader, they married each other."
"Yeah, that one. Dr. Phil thought you'd get a kick out of it, but damn if I know why."
"It's a reference to a famous sentence in a classic British novel: Reader, I married him from Jane Eyre."
"Oh, I get it. Jane Eyre, I know that name… She wrote Pride and Prejudice, right?"
Bones opened her mouth to correct him, but then decided Booth was already sufficiently evolved. "I would love to discuss the English literary canon with you, Booth, but right now, I have a tale to finish." Suddenly, she was struck by a brilliant idea. "Booth, you know what I would like right now?"
He went very still, and regarded her warily. "What?"
"I'd like you to read this last section out loud to me."
"We'll wake the house, if we haven't already."
"Not if you read very quietly." She pulled her features into a sad-eyed plea.
"Aw, c'mon, Bones, not that face! All right, all right, if it means so much to you."
She passed him the laptop with a pleased little sigh, and curled up beside him.
Booth read:
"A Tale of Twin Booths: Coda
Reader, they married each other. On a warm sunny afternoon, among the blooming flower beds of the Jeffersonian and surrounded by colleagues, close friends and family, Mr. Victor Booth married Dr. Temperance Brennan, and Dr. Timothy Booth wed Dr. Joy Ruth Keenan. And, yes, the grooms were handsome in their tuxes, and very nearly indistinguishable one from the other, and the brides were beautiful in their off-the-shoulder white lace and French net gowns, and all in attendance could see, from the moment Max stepped onto the runner with Joy on his right arm and Temperance on his left (although it might have been the reverse), that this was the celebration of a powerful love, one that had endured uncounted trials and tribulations, and would forever stand the test of time: a miracle realized.
Attractive as the bridal couples were, they were outshone by the darling little flower girls in their plum-colored organza frocks. Seeing them together, everyone at the wedding agreed that, had they not known better, they would have assumed the two were identical twins. Indeed, had it not been for the bejeweled monogram pins they wore, and which had been commissioned for them especially for the occasion by their doting maternal grandfather, it is an open question whether anyone could have distinguished Chris Booth from her nominal cousin Tina. Matron of honor Angela Montenegro had planned for the tots to walk down the aisle one after the other, strewing rose petals as they went, but the girls refused to release one another's hand, and Angela had to settle for their completing their walk with fingers intertwined, and baskets dangling, an afterthought, at their sides.
During the ceremony, the girls sat crosslegged on the grass at the feet of their great-grandfather Hank and their grandmother Marianne, their stiff skirts puffed up around them, so that, from a distance, they resembled gigantic blossoms with burnished gold centers. They leaned into each other, giggling and whispering in a language that sounded vaguely like English, but was unintelligible to any one attempting to listen in. Afterwards, they played at chasing Parker around the gardens, but he easily eluded them until, at last, he took pity on his panting, shiny-faced pursuers and graciously allowed himself to be caught.
In their near-exhaustion, Chris and Tina permitted their fathers to pick them up, and carry them to different parts of the grounds, where each couple was to take their formal wedding portrait. The photographer had no sooner posed Vic, Brennan and Chris to his satisfaction, than the little girl let out a heartrending scream, clapped a hand over her upper arm, and burst into noisy tears. Vic scooped their daughter up and held her while Brennan, in an effort to assess the injury, pried the little fingers away, but there was no cut or puncture on the smooth skin. It was not until later that they learned that Tina had been stung by an irritated bee.
Like other guests at the wedding, Avalon Harmonia had, initially, been no more than charmed by the Misses Booth, but as she watched them, her suspicion grew that they were more than the dainty, sweet little girls they appeared: much more. Long after most of the attendees had extended their best wishes and taken themselves off, Avalon lingered on, anxious to catch the Booth brothers alone. Finally, she found them sitting together on folding chairs, each with a napping daughter cradled against his chest. She did not scruple to procure herself a chair and invite herself to join them.
"You've heard tell of the powers of the 'seventh son of a seventh son'," she began, without preamble. "Such children are said to be blessed with special skills and supernatural gifts, such as magical healing and foretelling the future. It is not as widely known, but no less true, that children, especially females, who are conceived when their parents make love for the very first time are also endowed with extraordinary abilities. I know this from personal experience, as you may have surmised." She paused for any remark, or felicitation they might care to make, but they only regarded her in frank astonishment. 'It's my contention that these little princesses of yours were conceived in such a manner.' Once again, she waited, this time for confirmation or denial, neither of which was forthcoming. 'Well, you are under no obligation to tell me, of course, but, just in case I'm right, I want you to be aware that your daughters are not to be underestimated. They have uncanny talents, potentially of great range.' Avalon nodded, satisfied at having done a good deed, and, with final heartfelt congratulations, went on her way.
The Booths had a long acquaintance with Miss Harmonia, and since they considered her something of a well-meaning kook, they did not put much stock in her admonition, but in this, they were quite wrong, for Chris and Tina Booth did, indeed, have a touch of the fey in them. They did not need training in genetics to know, for example, that they were not cousins at all, but true sisters. Their hearts spoke to each other without words, and they had no secrets from each other. They reveled in their identical looks, and played them up unapologetically, even going so far as to deceive their parents from time to time, all in good fun. Chris did not think of Tim and Jay as her uncle and aunt, but rather as her other parents, and Tina felt the same about Vic and Brennan. As the two were practically inseparable, the call of "Chris,Tina" was often heard echoing through the house, as though one person was being summoned, which, appearances to the contrary, was basically the case."
"Daddy?" They looked up, startled, to see their pajama-footed five-year-old standing on the edge of the living area. She padded closer. "Are you reading a story? Can I hear, too?"
"Hey, monkey!" Booth said, softly. "What're you doing out of bed?"
Christine shrugged. "I heard voices, so I thought it was time to get up."
"Come here, sweetheart," Bones said, lifting a corner of her throw blanket and inviting Christine onto her lap. When she was tucked up with her mother, Bones added, "But, we have to be very quiet. We don't want to disturb our guests or Hank."
Christine nodded knowingly, and Booth took up the tale:
"In time, there was born unto them (as all the good fairy tales say) a baby brother. Chris and Tina had no patience with grown-ups who insisted on knowing which of them was the "real" sister; they simply rolled their eyes, and thought, as one insightful Frenchman once wrote, that "grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them." What did it matter to them whose sperm had fertilized the egg, or whose womb had carried the fetus to term? The baby belonged to both of his sisters equally; he was "theirs." They loved him with the same possessive passion they lavished on their parents and each other, and delighted in blowing raspberries on his jelly belly when he lay kicking on the changing table, or peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses as he bobbed in his bouncy chair.
For reasons their fey nature apprehended instinctively, their brother's name as written on his birth certificate was simply "H. Booth II." It was generally assumed that the initial stood for "Henry" or "Hank," but Chris and Tina knew better. They had internalized the central lesson of Rumplestiltskin, so they appreciated the power inherent in knowing another person's true name. Sometimes, if they were feeling mischievous, they would reveal that, while their baby's first name was not "Hank," the first two letters were, indeed, "Ha" and if that one syllable were repeated quickly many times, his true name might be guessed. Mostly, however, they guarded the secret jealously, even going so far as to use the code name "Seeley" when talking of their brother together, "Seeley" being a rough equivalent of H.'s hidden name in their special language.
On the mystically important day of H.'s baptism, Chris and Tina, richly dressed in their ceremonial clothes, stood on opposite sides of their brother's cradle, and joined hands over his sleeping form. Gazes locked together, they made the solemn pledge never to leave their brother in the lurch, but to be available to him all his life as his better angels. When he was injured, they would apply salve and bandage his hurts, and when he sorrowed, they would do their best to comfort and cheer him, which is not to say they would allow him to whine, to wallow in self-pity, or to play upon their sympathies. When he was bold and strove fiercely to achieve his goals, they would support him with all their might, and when he was righteously outraged, they would stand beside him and fight, too, if necessary, which is not to say they would permit him to throw temper tantrums, be an obnoxious bully, or treat them and others with condescension or disrespect. "Everything in moderation," Chris said, and Tina replied, with a wisdom beyond her years, "including moderation."
They closed their eyes, and, with their preternatural senses, they cast into the future, looking for clues as to what it held in store for their boy. They saw him growing straight and tall, strong and agile, good-looking and good-natured, clear-eyed, right-thinking: a fine and honorable man. They saw, and would see to, his fulfilling the golden promise of his secret name: Happy Booth, living joyfully ever after.
The End."
"Oh, Daddy!" Christine breathed, enraptured. "I like that story. Read it again!"
"Christine," Bones said, in gentle admonishment, "what do you say?"
"Please read it again, Daddy?"
"Yes, Daddy," Bones echoed, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Please? From the top."