by Vickie Hall
Reason eased its way into her thoughts, crowding out any burgeoning feelings of interest. How could she go out with him? She knew that if she did, at some point she would have to lie to him to protect her secrets. It was inevitable. Wasn’t that the reason she’d left the Rose Building—to stop all the lies, to keep people from knowing too much about her? She couldn’t risk anyone notifying the police of her whereabouts if the truth was ever revealed.
Bonnie almost let out a bitter laugh. Stop all the lies, she thought. How do I do that? I’m still living a lie even now. I have too much to hide, too much to protect. I have no business going out with Glen Taggart, not now, not ever. It’s too risky.
No matter how she rationalized her reasons not to see Glen again, the underlying desire to do so became overwhelming. Her reaction to him had been different. She wasn’t repulsed by his touch, or uninterested in him as a person. She couldn’t explain it, nor could she comprehend why it was different with him.
Maybe, she thought, she could make this her chance to be genuine, to be who she was, not some manufactured persona. It had been so long since she’d been herself. She wondered if she even knew who that was anymore. Maybe, if she was careful not to reveal too much, at least not what had happened in the last four years, she could still protect her secrets. It would be worth a chance, wouldn’t it? If she’d reacted to Glen the way she did most men, she wouldn’t even consider it. But this had definitely been different.
Her head was spinning in a galaxy of conflicting thoughts, like shooting stars firing at one another, each one attempting to obliterate the other. She shook her head as if she could quash the battle, stop her thoughts from firing. It didn’t help. Bonnie threw the cover off her legs and put Baby Girl on the bed. Pushing up from the chair, she went to the closet and tugged out a box. The Scotch was easy to find, it’s cool glass bottle in the front corner. Bonnie unscrewed the lid and took a swig. She swallowed hard and felt the burn all the way to her stomach. For good measure, she took another long draw and waited for her senses to dull just slightly. One more sip, she thought, and she’d be able to sleep.
Chapter 19
Glen used a full Windsor knot for his tie, then fit it up snug to his neck. He fixed the collar of his white shirt over the blue-and-white striped tie, then studied himself in the mirror. A smile skimmed across his lips, surprising him. But he wasn’t smiling at himself. It was Bonnie. The thought of seeing her again had the smile erupting on his face.
He couldn’t get her out of his mind. Her honey blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes set off her oval face with skin as translucent as a mayfly’s wings. She was beautiful—there was no doubt of that, he thought. But there was something about her that intrigued him. He’d liked that little flash of temper when he’d accused his aunt of match-making the two of them. He liked her sense of independence and that she liked animals. She hadn’t been flashy or flirtatious, yet just beneath the surface, he felt heat. He’d never felt anything like it before, never experienced a desire to know a woman more intimately. Sure, he’d dated before, but no one ever had the effect on him that Bonnie did, and especially not in such a brief span of time.
Glen snatched his navy blue sport coat off the back of the chair and left his room. His father was sitting in the living room, the static and pop hissing from the radio speaker as his father searched for his program. As Glen walked down the hall, he could hear music humming from the radio. You’ll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent! The announcer’s voice broke in. “Yes, folks, Pepsodent is proud to bring you the Pepsodent Show starring Bob Hope…”
Al reached over and turned down the volume as Glen entered the living room. “Here are the keys,” he said, handing them to his son. “Have a good time.”
Glen snagged the car keys and smiled. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it. I should have my old jalopy running by the weekend, Ihope.”
“I don’t know why you insist on trying to get that piece of junk running again. It barely ran before you left.” Al shook his head. “Why don’t you get a nice used car—”
Glen interrupted his father. “Because it would be cheaper to get the old one running than to buy a used one.” He placed his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Don’t wait up, Dad.”
Al conceded the subject of the car and looked up at Glen. “Have a nice time, son.”
Glen left the house whistling the Pepsodent jingle. As he drove to the Orton’s, he thought it odd that he should be picking up his date from his aunt and uncle’s house. But then, if Bonnie hadn’t been living there, he most likely would never have met her. He made a mental note to one day thank Baby Girl for getting Bonnie evicted from her apartment.
Glen pulled up to the curb in front of the house on Laurel Avenue and got out of the car, still whistling. He was looking forward to tonight, getting back to normal life again, putting more distance between himself and the war. And then he thought about Amy and what she’d be doing tonight. He figured she’d probably be sitting home alone, reading old letters from Charlie. A flood of sympathy and regret washed over him, but he ordered it to the back of his mind. Tonight belonged to him and not to ghosts, he thought. Tonight he would think only of the present.
He rapped on the door. His uncle answered and invited him in. Glen felt his heart skip a beat when Bonnie walked into the room. She wore a pale green dress with a matching bolero-style jacket. She’d left her hair down, curling around the bottom and sides. Glen neared her with a welcoming smile and caught a whiff of her perfume. “Wow,” he said under his breath.
Bonnie smiled back and locked her eyes on him.
“Isn’t she just lovely?” Irene said, following in after Bonnie. “You’ll be the best -looking couple in town.”
Glen offered his arm to Bonnie. “Don’t know about the couple part, but I’ll be with the best looking woman in town, that’s for sure.”
Bonnie actually blushed as she linked her arm through his. Irene followed them to the door like a proud mother hen. “Have a wonderful time, you two.”
“Thanks, Aunt Irene,” Glen said, walking Bonnie through the door.
“We’ll leave a light on for you, Bonnie,” Don called after them.
Bonnie waved and stopped beside Al Taggart’s Ford. Glen opened the door for her. “I cleaned the inside of the car for you,” he said. “My dad lets it get a little dusty just driving back and forth from work.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“Well, I wanted everything to be nice for you,” he said as he closed the door.
Once in beside her, he smiled. “Is there a particular movie you’d like to see?”
“It doesn’t matter. I like all kinds of movies.”
Glen stared at the steering wheel. He didn’t really want to go to the movies. He’d only used that as a suggestion to ask her out. He didn’t want to sit in a crowded theater and share her with other people. A quiet, secluded place was more to his liking. He turned to face her. “Would you mind if we didn’t go to the movie?”
Bonnie angled her head. “No. What else did you have in mind?”
“Well, I’d like to go someplace quiet. A lot of noise sort of makes me jumpy. I suppose it’s because of the war. Even the family party on Sunday was almost too much.” He began to wring his hands. “Geez, listen to me. I sound like an old woman.”
Bonnie touched his arm, her eyes warm on his. “I understand, Glen. I think quiet sounds pretty good myself.”
“Really? You’re not just saying that?”
She gave his arm a squeeze. “Really.”
Glen started the car and thought he liked Bonnie even more now. He drove down Laurel Avenue, trying to decide what to do next. An idea came to him, and he discovered a wry grin wedged on his lips.
“You should have seen Irene tonight,” Bonnie said with a laugh. “She wanted to know what dress I was going to wear and how I was going to fix my hair. She practically stood in the bathroom with me while I dressed, making sure every
thing was perfect.”
Glen glanced at her and chuckled. “Just goes to show how much she cares about you. She wouldn’t fuss if she didn’t.”
“Sometimes she reminds me of my mama, except she wasn’t as outgoing as Irene. She was kind of quiet and, well…” She let her voice trail off and then continued. “She wasn’t a strong woman, like Irene, but that was because of my father. I like to think she’d have been a different woman if she hadn’t married him.”
Glen glanced over at her and saw the reflective look on Bonnie’s face, her downturned mouth, the sadness in her eyes. He couldn’t help but be touched by her tender feelings. “Was it a bad marriage?” He asked it quietly, as if he didn’t want to disturb too many memories for her.
Bonnie let out a little huff of breath. “I guess you could say that. It was for Mama, anyway.” She clasped her hands in her lap and looked pensive for a moment. “You know, Glen, you and I come from very different backgrounds. I’ve been envious of people like you all my life.”
Glen gave her a quizzical look. “Envious of me? How so?”
“For years, we never had a real home,” she began. “My parents were migrant farm workers from the time I was born. I started picking in the fields with them when I was four or five. Wherever there was a harvest, that’s where we’d be. I never set foot in a real school until I was twelve years old. We slept in the truck or in some shack, worked in the hot sun all day. It was a pretty tough life.” She looked at him as if to register his reaction. “I begged my mother to take me away, to leave my father.”
“But she didn’t?”
“She couldn’t,” Bonnie corrected. “She was too afraid…afraid he’d…kill her if she tried.”
Glen reached over and took hold of Bonnie’s hand. The fragile sound of her voice pierced his heart. He couldn’t imagine living the life Bonnie described. He wasn’t shocked as much as appalled. “Had he threatened her or tried to kill her before?”
Bonnie shook her head and left her hand beneath his. “He didn’t have to. He beat any rebellion out of her she might have had. He’d leave her broken and bleeding nearly every day. I tried to make her come with me, begged her to leave…”
“You ran away.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded. “When I was sixteen. I’ve been on my own ever since.”
His brows furrowed and his voice became flat. “He beat you too, didn’t he?”
Bonnie nodded slowly.
Glen felt himself growing angry, angry that Bonnie had suffered at the hands of her cruel father. It wasn’t fair, he thought. A spasm of regret stung him for all the pain she’d suffered. It made him feel protective toward her all of a sudden, as if he could somehow keep her from hurting anymore.
“I’m really sorry, Bonnie,” he said quietly. “I saw a lot of mean men in the Army…men who did things they had no right to do to people, things far beyond necessity, even during a war. They made me sick…still do. I’m sorry you had to go through that with your father.”
Bonnie flapped her hands in the air a moment as if she could erase her words. “I’m sorry I brought it up,” she apologized. “I don’t know why…it just came out.”
“It’s okay,” he said, reaching over to take her hand again. “Really.”
She didn’t try to pull her hand free, so Glen gave it a squeeze before he let go. He pulled the car to a stop in front a little market and set the brake. “I’ll be right back,” he said with an impish grin.
He breezed into the market, picked up two bananas, two bottles of Coke, a bag of potato chips, and a pack of Beeman’s gum. He paid for his items and jogged back to the car. “I wasn’t gone too long, was I?”
“No,” she answered as he handed her the paper bag. “What’s this?”
He started the car and smiled, his dimples cleaving his cheeks with amusement. “Snacks,” he announced. “I thought we might get a little hungry while we’re driving.”
Bonnie’s brows drew together. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” he said, pulling back onto the street. “We’ll see where the road takes us.”
Bonnie peered into the bag. “How are we supposed to open the Cokes?”
He extended his hand toward her. “Give them to me.”
She handed a bottle to him and he proceeded to pry the cap off with his molars. “Learned that in sixth grade,” he said, handing the bottle back to her.
Bonnie pulled a face. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Nah.” He opened the second and took a long drink from the bottle. “Boy, that hits the spot. You know, the whole time I was in Italy, all I wanted was a cold bottle of Coke.”
“And potato chips?” she asked with a grin, peering back into the bag.
He laughed. “Yeah, and bananas. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I happen to be a fan of potato chips, bananas, and Coca-Cola.”
Glen took another drink and drove west with the setting sun glaring at them through the windshield. “I hope you don’t think I’m crazy. I’m sure you thought you were going to have a normal evening tonight.”
Bonnie took a sip of her Coke. “Well, this might be a little unconventional, but I’m enjoying the company.”
“Me too .How about a chip?”
Bonnie put the bottle between her knees and opened the bag of chips. She offered him the bag and took a chip herself. “So tell me more about you. Have you lived here all your life?”
Glen shoved a chip into his mouth and munched a minute. “All my life.” He thought about Bonnie never settling down, living like she did, and wondered how lonely it might have been for her. “I can’t remember a time when my house wasn’t filled with cousins or friends. My brother and I spent a lot of time at Aunt Irene’s after our mom died. We played with Ralph and Randy all the time and teased the heck out of Ann. We were more like siblings than cousins.”
Bonnie took another chip from the bag. “You were really lucky. Iwould have loved to have had what you did, lots of people around, parents like Irene and Don, to live in the same house, go to school with the same friends you met in kindergarten—to have a sense of roots, I guess.”
“It was pretty good, really.” He reached for another chip. “I’m not sure I appreciated it at the time, but I think that’s how most kids are.” He steered with one hand, balancing the Coke between two fingers and a thumb, the butt of the bottle on the wheel. He extended his other hand. “How about a banana?”
Bonnie returned her Coke between her knees and reached into the grocery bag. She took out a banana and peeled back the skin for him. “You drive,” she said, pushing the banana toward his mouth.
He laughed and took a bite. She waited until he swallowed, then offered him another bite. “Me Cheetah, you Jane,” he said, then bit off another chunk. Bonnie laughed and peeled the banana skin back some more. “My brother and I never missed a Tarzan movie. One time, we tied a rope to the tree in the back yard, but we didn’t know enough to use a really thick, sturdy branch. No, we tie it to this branch about two inches around, which might have been big enough for one of us, but we both got hold of the rope and started swinging, screaming like Tarzan until the branch cracked and broke off the tree. Sam and I crashed to the ground. We knew Dad was going to be madder than a hornet. So we decided to nail the broken branch back to the tree and figured Dad would never be the wiser.”
Glen started laughing and Bonnie joined in. “Did it work?” she asked.
“Well, better than you might think,” he replied, grinning. “We used these giant nails, thinking the bigger, the better to hold the limb, right? So we pounded in the nails at an angle and thought it looked pretty good. We backed up toward the house and you could hardly tell it had been broken.”
He took a drink of Coke and ran the back of his hand over his mouth. “So Sam and I thought we’d dodged a bullet…until dinner time. We were all sitting around the table and my dad looked out the kitchen window and saw this tree branch hanging down. The leaves were alread
y wilted and starting to die. He looked at us and said, ‘You kids been hanging on that tree again?’ Sam and I figured we were okay, because we fixed it. So we shook our heads and said no. Dad pointed to the tree and said, ‘We must have some mighty heavy squirrels, then.’”
“What happened when he saw the nails?”
Glen snorted out a laugh. “We figured we were going to get it but good. He took us by the arms and marched us out to the tree, but when he saw how we’d tried to fix it, he busted out laughing. He couldn’t punish us, but we knew better than to play Tarzan like that ever again.”
“Was your mother still alive then?” Bonnie asked.
“Yeah, that was about two years before she died.”
“Did she think it was funny too?”
Glen looked at her with raised brows. “Did she? She called Aunt Irene that night and told her all about it. Sam and I could hear her on the phone after we went to bed. She was laughing the whole time and then we could hear Dad laughing, too.”
“I tried to fix a teapot once,” Bonnie said, angling herself in the seat so her back was against the door. “After I ran away from home, I’d found a job as a housekeeper for this woman. The job came with a room behind the kitchen, so I was really grateful to have it. I always figured she felt sorry for me—I mean, I showed up in these ratty clothes, had nothing much other than that. To this day I don’t know why she hired me. Anyway, one day I was dusting this curio cabinet filled with bric-abrac and there was this little teapot. Ifigured it was a family keepsake from someone’s childhood because it wasn’t big enough to really use. It slipped out of my hand and hit the edge of the cabinet, breaking off the spout. I was devastated,” she said. “Terrified to tell her, so I hid it in my room and went to the store for some glue.
“I didn’t know what kind of glue to buy or if there was any glue that would even fix it. So I bought the one I hoped would do the job and went back to my room.”