by Vickie Hall
Bonnie lifted her hand to wave, but he didn’t look back. She watched as he melded into the throng, merged with all the others who slung their sea bags over their shoulders and bravely faced their fate.
She waited until she could no longer make him out in the crowd of like-dressed men, all sporting the same sailor’s cap and bulky sea bag. She thought she saw him as he climbed the steep grade of the gangplank, and she waved periodically in case he was looking for her. But she couldn’t tell if he could see her in the crowd any longer. She stood there with all the others, waiting until the last man boarded and the gangplank was removed. She stood there and watched as the men lined up along the deck, each vying for position to throw kisses and wave goodbye. She stood there until the ship groaned away from the dock and began to move. She stood there until the destroyer slid toward the horizon and disappeared.
Chapter 25
Bonnie had taken a day off from work to pack. Tomorrow she and Glen would move into their new house, with the welcome help of the Ortons. She’d collected empty boxes from the grocers and was prepared to begin. She fastened her hair in a ponytail, wore an old pair of dunga rees, and started with the kitchen.
For five straight hours, Bonnie worked feverishly to wrap, pack, bundle, and box the kitchen, living room, and bathroom. When she walked into the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed for a brief rest and stared into the open closet. Her gaze floated up to the shelf of hat boxes, and to one in particular—the one containing the red leather box. Bonnie’s heart began to drum. She’d meant to throw it out months ago. Between mourning the loss of the baby and the fact that she was seldom home without Glen, an opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Now was the perfect chance to be rid of the thing once and for all.
As she took down the hatbox, her fingers began to tremble. How she despised the red box and all the ugliness it contained. She loathed the torrent of memories that assaulted her as she took it in her hands, aware of how little Glen really knew of her. She hated that most of all—that she had hidden so much from him, had taken his love in exchange for her dulled conscience.
Behind the small apartment building, where the tenants parked their cars, stood a 55 -gallon drum used to burn leaves and yard debris, along with several trash cans. Bonnie grabbed a book of matches and went downstairs, her pulse throbbing in her throat. She felt exposed taking the box outside, as though anyone who saw it would know what it contained.
Adrenalin charged through her veins and she began to feel queasy, a sheen of sweat sprouting on her face. When she reached the back door of the building and opened it, she heard the sound of an approaching car. For a split-second she froze, unsure what to do. Should she continue, or turn back? What if it was someone she knew? Would she have to explain what she was doing? She was being ridiculous, and shook her head to clear away the irrational thoughts. With a calming breath, Bonnie started for the drum.
The front fender of Glen’s car inched into the parking lot, and Bonnie’s heart seized. She spun to the nearest trash can, lifted the lid, and threw the box inside, crashing down the lid in a fit of jangled nerves. She pivoted toward his car and dredged up a smile.
Glen waved, cut the engine, and got out. “Hi, babe.”
“You’re home early,” she said, feeling as though she might suffocate.
He came toward her, loosening his tie. “I thought I’d come home and help pack. It was pretty
slow today anyway.”
She grappled for a sense of calm. “That’s so sweet. I could use the help.”
He kissed her and grinned, swiping his finger across her brow. “Looks like you’ve been working
hard,” he said. “You’re all sweaty.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve been working since you left. I came down to see if I could scrounge up
some extra newspaper for packing. Thought there might be some in the trash. No luck, though.” He opened the building door, held it for her, then went inside. As Bonnie climbed the back
stairs, her knees turned to rubber. She gripped the banister, feeling as though she might melt into a
puddle. But at least the box was gone. A gradual sense of relief overtook her nerves. She wa s finally
rid of it.
///////
Moving day felt like controlled chaos. Glen stayed at the apartment to orchestrate there, after
taking Bonnie to the house so she could direct the furniture and marked boxes to the appropriate
rooms. Beneath the turmoil, Glen was excited. His life had come together in a way he’d never
dreamed. He had a job he enjoyed, a new house, and a wife he adored beyond measure. He still
thought about the miscarriage from time to time, and the hole it had left in his heart. But he was grateful Bonnie had physically endured the ordeal and was returning to normal. After they were
settled, they could start thinking about adoption.
Boxes and small items were loaded into Ralph’s station wagon, while Don’s truck served as the
vehicle of choice for the rest. They’d made a few trips to the house when Glen stopped on the way
back to buy hamburgers for the men. They sat on the floor of the apartment to enjoy a rest. When
they finished, Glen collected the wrappings and paper sacks and headed down to the trash. “Hey,” Don called with a teasing grin. “You could at least take a box down with you.” Glen laughed. “I paid for the burgers,” he said. “I get one pass.”
He jogged down the back stairs behind Ralph, whose arms were wrapped around a box.
“Almost done,” he said, waiting for Ralph to clear the door.
“Yeah,” Ralph said, heading for the truck. “Thanks again for lunch.”
Glen walked backwards as he spoke. “Hey, I owe you guys for all your help.” “Don’t worry,” Ralph said, hoisting the box inside the truck. “We’ll get you back one of these
days.”
Glen still had the lunch sacks in his hand. He felt his calf hit one of the trash cans. He turned
and lifted the lid. When he glanced down, he saw a leather-covered box. He recognized it as the one
belonging to Bonnie, the one he’d seen before they were married. Glen picked it up and tried the
lock. It wouldn’t open. He shook it to see if it was empty, but when he did, he heard something
knocking against the sides.
Assuming the red box had been thrown out by mistake, Glen went to the truck and opened the
flaps of the nearest moving box. There wasn’t room inside. He refolded the flaps and tried another.
The second box held his uniforms and some old high school things, and there was room to slip the
red box in along the side. Glen snugged the treasure beside a uniform and fastened the carton
closed.
///////
The September air exhaled a frosted breath as Bonnie rushed into Kirkendall’s, dashed up the
stairs and joined Irene at the switchboard. “Thanks for covering for me,” Bonnie said, shrugging off
her coat. “I hope it hasn’t been too bad. The doctor was running behind.”
Irene nodded and completed the connection of the incoming call. She spun toward Bonnie and
smiled. “It’s been slow this morning,” she said. “Everything okay?”
Bonnie sat in her chair and reached for her headset. Her hand paused in mid-air as she
considered her answer. If anyone would understand it would be Irene. “Sort of,” she said. Irene’s forehead crinkled like an old piece of parchment, her eyes narrowing. “What do you
mean?”
Bonnie pressed her lips together and turned to face Irene. She clasped her hands in her lap and
studied her fingers for a moment. She inhaled deeply and let out a long breath. “I’m pregnant.”
Before Irene could say anything, Bonnie’s eyes filled with tears and she grabbed Irene’s hand. “I’m
terrified, Irene. I don’t
want to lose this baby—I couldn’t go through that again. And Glen…I don’t
know what to tell him…if I should tell him, at least not for a little while longer.”
Irene’s expression registered Bonnie’s fear. “Of course you need to tell Glen.” “But what if—”
“What if,” Irene interrupted, “you’re able to carry the baby full term? What does the doctor
say?”
Bonnie reached for a tissue from the box near the switchboard. “He says there’s no guarantee—
not with my history. He told me to take it easy, try not to overdo…” She blotted her tears away and
peered into Irene’s kind eyes. “I want this baby, Irene—more than anything in the world.” Irene reached out and cupped Bonnie’s chin in her palm. “I know you do. I think it would be
wise for you to speak with Mr. Hammond—take a leave of absence so you can stay home and rest.” “Leave Kirkendall’s? Leaveyou?”
“If it lets you keep the baby, absolutely.”
Bonnie thought for a minute. She would do whatever it took to carry her baby to term. She
nodded and clasped Irene’s hands. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Glen and then Mr. Hammond.” Irene smiled, her face warm and maternal. “And I don’t want you worrying about anything. I’ll
talk to my girls and we’ll help out with your housework and meals.” Bonnie opened her mouth to
protest, but Irene raised her hand. “Not a word,” Irene said firmly. “I won’t have any argument
about it. We’re family, and we take care of each other.”
Tears sprang from Bonnie’s eyes. Overwhelmed with love for this woman and her new family,
Bonnie wrapped her arms around Irene’s neck and hugged her. “Oh, Irene…I love you.” Bonnie realized that she hadn’t spoken those words to Irene before, and by the look on Irene’s
face, it seemed as though they had touched her deeply. Irene wiped a tear away from Bonnie’s cheek
and smiled. “I love you too.”
The switchboard suddenly came to life, and the two women swiveled around to their work. For
the remainder of the day Bonnie tried to keep her thoughts corralled. They wavered between
moments of desperation and hope, fear and elation. She tried not to dwell on the possibility of another miscarriage, kept focused on her work. How she would survive the hours of confinement at home seemed daunting. She was never very good at doing nothing; it drove her crazy to sit around. But if it allowed her a chance to keep her baby, she’d do it and find something acceptable to occupy
her time.
When she got home, Bonnie waited for Glen. She knew he’d worry about her now, would hate
leaving her every day. He was like that, protective and tender-hearted. She could still see the look on
his face when she’d awakened in the hospital after the miscarriage. His eyes were so filled with pain
and regret and worry. She prayed he would be spared of that again, that they both would. She heard Glen’s car pull into the driveway and went to the back door. She felt her hands
trembling and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Making her expression as blank as possible,
she greeted him with a forced smile.
Glen closed the door behind him and stopped to look at her. His brows drew together. Bonnie
guessed she hadn’t done a very good job of hiding her emotions. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Bonnie swallowed and took his hand. “Come and sit down.”
Glen blinked and seemed to visibly pale. “Bonnie, what’s the matter?”
She led him to the sofa and took a seat, waiting for him to join her. Inhaling a breath of courage,
she peered into his liquid brown eyes and felt herself drowning in them. Bonnie grasped his hands
and felt her fingers shill shaking. Her mouth went dry. “Glen, I’ve been to see the doctor twice now.
I didn’t want to worry you until I knew for sure—”
Glen’s grip tightened and he leaned into her. “Worry me—Bonnie, what is it?” Bonnie could tell she probably hadn’t prefaced the situation well. She attempted a smile. “I’m
pregnant.”
Glen’s anxious expression dissolved into a radiant smile. He pulled her into his arms. “Oh,
Bonnie…you had me thinking there was something wrong.”
She leaned back, her heart pounding. “What if it happens again? What if—”
He stopped her with a kiss. Glen’s fingers tangled in her hair as the kiss deepened. It was as if he
could erase her trepidation, cloud her thoughts with his hunger. In his kiss she felt of his strength,
the courage he gave her. Glen pressed his forehead to hers, his hands still enmeshed in her hair.
“Whatever happens, we’ll get through it,” he whispered. “Together.”
///////
Omaha, 1950
Bonnie tested the bathwater with her fingers as she leaned over the sparkling salmon-colored bathtub. “Bath time, Jeannie!” she called from the bathroom. She placed two towels on the toilet seat and peeked out of the door. “Jeannie? Come on, now I don’t have time to play games.”
A wail pierced the air and Bonnie walked into her children’s bedroom. “What happened to Charlie?” she asked, bending down to pick up her crying fifteen-month-old son.
Jeannie’s large blue eyes stared up at her mother. “He tried to pull Baby Girl’s tail and she hissed at him. I think she scared him.”
Bonnie sat on Jeannie’s twin bed. “Well, never mind. Get undressed.”
She wiped Charlie’s tears away with her apron and tugged off his shirt and pants. Next came the rubber pants and his diaper and then she carried him to the bathtub.
Jeannie followed, naked and pink and happy to take her bath. “I don’t wear diapers anymore, huh, Mom. I’m a big girl now, huh, Mom.”
Bonnie knelt beside the bathtub and lifted Charlie into the tepid water. He sat with a splash and began slapping at the bubbles. “Yes, you’re my big girl,” she said with a soft smile. She helped Jeannie into the tub and soaped up a washcloth.
Bonnie looked at her two miracles, the two most precious gifts she’d ever received. She’d never believed she could love her children as much as she did. Every facet of her life had completely changed the moment the nurse laid her baby girl in her arms. She remembered the overwhelming love that had poured out of her as she fingered the blanket and peered into Jeannie’s tiny face. She remembered the tears that flowed down her cheeks as she held her baby, more valued than her own life. The impossible had become possible.
When she became pregnant with Charlie, she’d prayed she could carry him to term, just as she had with Jeannie. And when he was born, more tears greeted the arrival of her beautiful son. She and Glen had made a family, a family they were head-over-heels in love with.
“When’s Daddy coming home?” Jeannie asked as her mother scrubbed her back with the washcloth.
“He should be home any minute,” she replied. “And I want you both scrubbed and in your pajamas before the babysitter comes.”
“Cause it’s your ann-i-ber-serry, huh, Mom.”
Bonnie smiled and tapped Jeannie on the nose. “That’s right. Daddy and I were married five years ago today.”
“Five,” she said, holding up her hand, fingers and thumb spread wide to indicate the number. “That’s a lot, huh, Mom. I’ll be this many pretty soon.” She curled her thumb into the palm of her hand. “Four.”
Bonnie grinned. “Yes, you’ll be four in a few more months.”
She gave Jeannie a final rinse, hauled her out of the tub, and placed her on the bathmat. As she rubbed her daughter dry with a towel, she kept an eye on Charlie. He was content entertaining himself with the water.
Bonnie kissed Jeannie on the forehead. “Okay, now—”
“Where is everyone?” Glen called, stepping in from the hallway.
Jeannie bolted from her mother�
��s hands. “Daddy! Daddy!”
The little girl squealed with delight as Glen hoisted her into his arms and smiled down at Bonnie. “Hi, babe,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“Guess what, guess what, Daddy?” Jeannie asked, tugging on her father’s lapel.
Glen drew his attention to his little girl and smiled. “What, Jeannie-beanie?”
“Mommy let me help make peanut butter sandwiches today.” The girl, who looked like her mother, nodded emphatically.
“Will you get her in her pajamas while I finish up with Charlie?” Bonnie asked over her shoulder. “I’ve still got to get myself ready for tonight.”
“Oh, you could wear a potato sack and look amazing,” he said as he turned from the bathroom.
“Good,” she replied after him with a laugh. “I’ll wear that next year on our anniversary and you can wear a pair of torn overalls.”
“Make it a barrel and you’ve got a deal.”
With the children bathed and dressed for bed, Bonnie and Glen began to get ready for the anniversary party Irene and Don were hosting. Jeannie sat on her parents’ bed, talking to a doll while little Charlie sat on the floor in his footed pajamas, chewing on a squeaky toy.
Glen stood in the closet rummaging through things, grumbling to himself as he did.
“What are you looking for?” Bonnie asked as she fastened the rhinestone earring to her ear lobe .
“My high school yearbook,” he said, his voice muffled by the clothes.
“Why are you looking for it in there?”
Glen stuck his head out of the large closet. “Because I’ve looked everywhere else for it, that’s why. I can’t find it.”
Bonnie heaved out a sigh. “Why do you have to look for it now? We’re going to be late.”
“I promised Ralph I’d bring it to the party. He said something about meeting someone at work he was sure was in my class. He’s too embarrassed to ask the guy. Said he’s a big shot or something.”
The doorbell rang and Bonnie grabbed her second earring off the dresser. “That’s the babysitter,” she said. “It’s probably up in the attic in one of those boxes with your old uniforms. You don’t have time to get it tonight, honey.”