Secrets of the Red Box

by Vickie Hall

  Glen chuckled. “She does have an imagination.”

  “So I asked her, ‘What do the words say?’ She got this serious look on her face and stared me right in the eyes. She said, ‘You can read, can’t you?’ I tried to keep a straight face and said, ‘Sure, but why don’t you tell me what it says.’” Bonnie began to laugh again. “Dead serious, she said, ‘It says, the cow jumped over the moon and landed in France’.”

  Glen grinned, shook his head and put the dried glass away. “Whatever happens to our imaginations? What do we do with them when we get so old we think we’re too smart for such wild ideas? I think a world where words shoot out of our toes would be a pretty wonderful place to live.”

  Bonnie swished another glass in the rinse water. “I think imagination is lost when innocence is lost. One can’t exist without the other.”

  “Oh, I don’t know I believe that,” he said, taking the glass from her hand. “Without imagination, how do you account for all the inventions in the world, all the novels that have been written, all the great paintings?”

  “That’s not really imagination—that’s calculated creativity.”

  Glen gave her a sideways glance. “Whatever that is.”

  “Give me a four-year-old’s scribbled picture of a crooked house with a big sun over it any day to a Rembrandt.”

  Glen managed a snorting laugh. “Sure, but then, if Rembrandt drew like a four-year-old, it wouldn’t be hanging in a museum.”

  “I just mean that most great painters studied, they knew what they were doing, every stroke was calculated. A child’s drawing is pure, absolutely pure. There’s no hidden message, no underlying theme. It’s just a simple expression of delight.”

  Glen studied her a moment. He flicked the dish towel over his shoulder and opened the cupboard to put away the plates. “How many children would you like to have, Bonnie?”

  The question so caught her off guard that Bonnie nearly choked. Her thoughts darkened and she could smell the musty room hidden in the back of the shed, could feel the air saturated with her fear, could see the young intern’s face beaded with sweat.

  “Two, three?” he prodded when she didn’t answer right away.

  Bonnie wiped her hands on the apron around her waist and turned from the sink. How could she tell him? Would it make a difference in how he felt about her? Would he reject her if he knew?

  “Four?” he continued with raised brows.

  Bonnie shook her head, let her hands come together in front of her as if she was about to pray. “I…I might not be able to have children,” she said quietly. “A doctor once told me so.”

  It wasn’t really a lie, was it? A doctor had told her that. But she couldn’t bring herself to explain why the doctor had made that pronouncement. Bonnie held her breath.

  Glen came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and placed his cheek beside hers. He held her for a moment and Bonnie shuddered inside, waiting for his response, for his rejection. But they hadn’t discussed a future together really, not anything in concrete terms, nothing that would indicate having children together. His silence drilled into her soul with a painful sting.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said sincerely. “It wouldn’t change the way I feel about you.”

  Bonnie wanted to cry. He deserved so much more than she could give him. “But you’d be a wonderful father,” she said, her eyes misting with tears. “Maybe you should—”

  He turned her around, took her face in his hands. “Maybe nothing,” he said. “Whether I become a father or not doesn’t matter, Bonnie. All I need is you.”

  Her chin began to quiver and warm tears slid down her cheeks. How did he always know the right things to say? She swallowed and covered her face with her trembling fingers.

  Glen took her by the wrists and slowly withdrew her hands. He placed a knuckle beneath her chin and raised her gaze to his. “I love you, Bonnie. And if you love me, I don’t need anything else.”

  For a second, just a split second, the words seemed impossible to comprehend. Then the full impact hit her in the center of the chest, nearly knocking her breathless. A penetration of warmth spread through her, reaching the darkest recesses of her soul, lighting her with incredible joy. Bonnie threw her arms around him, her tears turning to ones of happiness. “I do love you, Glen. I love with you with all my heart.”

  He pulled her against him, his arms strong and steady around her. Bonnie felt herself conform to his body, mold to his shape. They fused together into one being, their love bonding them now, making them stronger together than either one had been apart. She kissed him and knew nothing would ever be the same again.

  Glen took her face in his hands, studied her blue eyes. “I know now why I survived the war,” he said quietly. “Iwas meant to find you.”

  Bonnie blinked back her tears and felt her heart quicken. “And I came to Omaha so you could.”

  He smiled and kissed her again. “I’ll thank God every day for you, Bonnie. Every single day I live.”

  Bonnie caressed his face, absorbing his essence through her fingertips. “You have no idea how much you’ve changed my life,” she murmured. “I had nothing, and now… I have everything.”

  She kissed him, feeling the light radiate from her, illuminating the two of them, filling the room with love.

  “Mom!” a young voice cried. “Glen and Bonnie are kissing!”

  “Leave them alone!” Don called with a mild scold. “Get away from the kitchen.”

  Bonnie and Glen laughed and turned back to the dishes. Glen slid his eyes toward Bonnie and offered an impish grin. She slipped another dish beneath the rinse water and returned his grin.

  “So, next Saturday’s the big moving day,” Glen said, wiping a dish dry with his towel.

  She nodded. “Back in my own place,” she sighed. “I have to admit I’ve really enjoyed it here. It’ll be hard to get up in the morning and not have breakfast with Irene, not sit around the kitchen table at night for tea.” She scrubbed at a spot of dried gravy, then looked at Glen. “But it’ll be good to be on my own again, and for Baby Girl to have the run of the apartment.”

  Glen moved a stack of dried dishes to the cupboard. “You know, Aunt Irene will be expecting you here every Sunday for dinner.”

  “Maybe,” Bonnie said. She wanted to come, wanted to feel like a part of the family, but she wasn’t really, no matter what Irene said.

  “And Thanksgiving will be here before you know it, and so will Christmas,” he said with a wide smile. “Some of my best memories are of family dinners at holiday time.”

  Bonnie was quiet. She’d never celebrated Thanksgiving or Christmas with her parents. Even after they moved to Long Beach, there were no turkey dinners or Christmas presents. She only heard about such things secondhand from kids at school. “I imagine that would be something…”

  Glen looked at her and she felt his thoughts penetrating her silence. She looked at him with a fleeting smile. “We didn’t…Inever…”

  Glen placed his hand on her shoulder. She could see the regret on his face. “I’m sorry…I wish I could have made that different for you.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Maybe we can ma ke up for it this year, huh?”

  Maybe so, she thought. Maybe now life would be all she’d ever hoped it would be. She’d never be alone again, never feel abandoned or unloved. Her entire life had changed in the blink of an eye. Everything she’d thought would make her happy meant nothing now. Finally, she realized that being loved by someone, and loving in return, was what she’d been looking for all along. ///////

  Closing the apartment door, Glen waved goodbye to the last of the Ortons. He let out a breath, relieved that everything was now in place. He turned to Bonnie with a smile. “I’ll help you unpack the boxes,” he said.

  “No, no, just as I told the others, I’ll take care of that. You’ve all done more than enough getting me moved in.” Bonnie pawed through a box in search of something. “Why don’t you go on home? You mus
t be tired.”

  He was tired, but he didn’t want to go home. He hated the thought of leaving Bonnie alone in her new apartment. It wasn’t that he feared for her safety—he just didn’t want to be without her. He lay awake nights thinking about her, dreamed about her, yearned to take her. But he wouldn’t do that. She deserved his respect, his patience, his endurance even if it nearly killed him. He wanted her more than any woman he’d ever known, but he wanted her the right way, the way he’d been raised to believe was correct.

  “What are you looking for?” he finally asked, ignoring her question.

  “Baby Girl’s dishes,” she replied, moving to another box. “I found her food and thought they would be in the same box.”

  “Speaking of Baby Girl, is it safe to let her out of the bathroom now?”

  Bonnie didn’t look up from her search. “Yes, thanks.”

  Glen walked to the bathroom door. “Ba-a-a-by Gir-r-r-l,” he called. “What are you doing in there all alone?”

  He inched open the door, expecting to find the kitten anxious to get out of her confined space. His eyes scanned the sparse room, looking for the cat to respond. He didn’t see her. There was only the bathtub, a toilet, and a pedestal sink in the tiny room. No cabinets or closets to hide in. Glen’s heart sank with a sharp plunge. “Bonnie? She’s not in here.”

  He walked the short distance to the living room and saw Bonnie frozen in fear. “She has to be,” she said, darting by him. “I put her in there myself.”

  Glen came up behind Bonnie and peered over her shoulder. “Maybe someone used the bathroom and accidently let her out.”

  He didn’t like the look in her eyes, didn’t like the panic that seemed to overtake her.

  Bonnie swung from the bathroom, her eyes welling with tears. “What if she got outside? She wouldn’t know how to come back. She might get run over—”

  Glen took hold of her. “She’s probably in here somewhere,” he said calmly. “I’ll bet she snuck into a box or a closet with all the commotion.”

  Bonnie clung to his arms, her eyes flashing with fear. “I can’t lose her…I can’t lose her…if I do, I’ll die…”

  “You won’t lose her,” he assured her. “You look in the bedroom and I’ll look around outside.”

  Bonnie raced to a box and pulled out a sack of kibble. “Here,” she said, thrusting the bag toward him. “Take this and shake it. She loves her food. Maybe she’ll come to you.” Suddenly, she took back the bag. “No, I’d better do it. She knows the sound of my voice.”

  Glen didn’t argue. She was probably right. But then he thought that the two of them looking together had a better chance of finding the cat. “I’ll come with you,” he said, racing her to the door.

  The apartment building consisted of three stories, with a centrally located staircase in the middle of each floor; the apartments surrounding the four walls of the building. Glen knew that cats instinctively like to go up and wondered if Baby Girl had wandered to the third floor from Bonnie’s apartment on the second floor.

  “I’ll check the third floor,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time.

  He tried to remain calm, his heart pounding. He didn’t want to scare the cat should he find her, but more importantly, he didn’t want to further alarm Bonnie. Glen hated the way she had looked at him, the fear in her eyes, the tears. His heart wrenched. He had to find that cat, had to alleviate Bonnie’s panic and make everything all right again.

  He walked softly along the third-floor landing, calling the cat with an encouraging tone. He checked every recess and doorway, every corner of the floor. Nothing. A prayer left his lips, something he’d only done while embroiled in combat. Please let me find this cat. Let me find it for Bonnie.

  He went to the second floor and the first, searching them before he joined Bonnie outside. It was cool as the sun began to fade in the autumn sky, casting plum-colored shadows about the tan brick building. He heard Bonnie calling her cat, her voice strained, broken by gasps and tears. Again, his heart lurched, torn by the helpless feelings he countered with his need to find the cat. Once he found Baby Girl, Bonnie would be all right—everything would be all right.

  “Where have you looked?” he asked, coming around the corner of the building.

  She spun, her face streaked with tears, her eyes desperate. “Everywhere,” she blurted, smudging the tears from her cheeks. “I can’t find her.”

  Glen couldn’t stand to see Bonnie in pain. He wanted to hold her, to make everything better, but he wasn’t ready to give up the search yet. “We’ll keep looking,” he said firmly. “If she’s out here, she can’t have gone far.”

  “What if she’s lost? What if someone saw her and took her? What if—”

  “Listen to me,” he said, taking her by the shoulders. “We’ll find her.” He wasn’t as sure as he sounded. “It’s getting dark. Let me look out here and you try the apartment.”

  Bonnie sniffed back her tears and nodded. “All right. I’ll check with you in a few minutes.”

  Glen took the bag of kibble and kissed her. “Try not to worry, babe. We’ll find your kitty.”

  Registering a flicker of the pleased look on her face when he’d called her “babe”, he wondered why he had called her that. And then he remembered hearing his father use the endearment when referring to his mother. He decided he liked it. It seemed to fit.

  He realized now that it was more than just wanting to be with Bonnie—he wanted to take care of her. He wanted to love her and protect her and try to make babies with her. If they weren’t able to have children, maybe they could adopt. Either way, he knew without question now that he wanted to marry her.

  ///////

  Bonnie returned to the apartment, her heart aching with the thought of losing Baby Girl. She couldn’t face the possibility of never seeing her again. Tears kept welling in her eyes. At times, she wanted to stop and wail, fall to the floor, and cry out in anger and pain. But she pushed down those feelings, hoping she would still find the kitten. She had to keep looking until every corner of the new apartment had been searched.

  She closed the door behind her and took fresh courage that she would find Baby Girl somewhere in the apartment. Calling as she searched the living room, Bonnie methodically peered beneath furniture, looked in opened moving boxes, checked behind curtains, did everything but pick up the rugs to look underneath.

  Bonnie continued to the kitchen and then to the bedroom, the only other room in the apartment. She checked the open closet, moving aside shoes and hat boxes inside on the floor. More tears spilled down her face. Her throat ached from crying, her eyes stung, and rising feelings of despair crept into her heart.

  How could she have been so careless? She should have put the kitten somewhere else, or left her at the Ortons to be retrieved after the move…something to have protected her more. Guilt and anguish built inside of Bonnie as she explored the last possible hiding place, a box with the flaps loosely folded over the top. With a final instant of hope, Bonnie parted the flaps and looked inside. There was nothing but clothes, a book, and the red leather box.

  Bonnie knew Baby Girl had slipped outside during the move and that everyone had been too busy to notice. She felt her heart break in two, cursed her carelessness, and sat on the edge of the bed in defeat.

  The front door opened and Bonnie resurrected her hope once more, praying that Glen would come through the door with Baby Girl. She dashed to the living room, guarded but expectant. Her hopes evaporated like the dew on a desert flower. She ran to fill his empty arms, weeping against his chest.

  Glen lifted her up and cradled her like a wounded child. He went to the chair and sat with her nestled in his lap. “Oh, babe,” he whispered, stroking her golden hair. “Don’t cry…we’ll keep looking…maybe she’ll find her way back…”

  “What am I going to do…I love her so much…”

  Glen kissed her tear-stained cheek and held her tight. Bonnie felt the warmth of his embrace ease her pain. She
was grateful for his understanding, that he knew how much Baby Girl meant to her. Bonnie closed her eyes, so thankful that Glen was nothing like her father.

  Her sobs began to lessen, each ragged breath bringing a bit of control. She sighed heavily and relaxed her tense body, allowing her heightened emotions to ebb slowly away. In the comfort of Glen’s arms, she felt his love there to help carry her burden. It seemed extraordinary to her that this measure of calm could come to her in such a time of grief. It was Glen, his nearness, his devotion that soothed and consoled her.

  “Bonnie?”

  She opened her eyes, leaned back, and looked at him. The amused grin on his face and the tick of his uplifted chin had her looking the direction he indicated. There sat Baby Girl at the edge of the hallway, yawning, her raspy pink tongue curled inside her mouth.

  Bonnie scrambled to her feet and swept the kitten into her arms. Fear and sorrow quickly turned to relief. “Where were you?” she asked. “We looked everywhere for you! You scared me half to death.”

  Bonnie kissed the top of Baby Girl’s head and looked at Glen. “How did I miss her? I looked in every possible place.”

  He shrugged. “I guess she didn’t want to be found,” he mused.

  Bonnie sat in his lap again, leaning against him, caressing the kitten. Glen wrapped her tightly in his arms. They sat together, Bonnie’s fears calmed, her heart mended once more. She put her head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “For what?”

  “For helping…for being here…”

  He kissed her temple. “I’m glad I was here too. And I’m really glad that little cat decided to show up. I was about to start tearing the neighborhood apart. I just came up to see if you had a flashlight.”

  “You were going to keep looking? In the dark?”

  “I wasn’t ready to give up, not if it took me all night.”

  Bonnie’s heart began to melt. She loved Glen Taggart so much it hurt, it hurt to think of all the years she had lived without him, hurt to wonder what she would ever do without him now.