Secrets of the Red Box (15 page)

After work, Bonnie went straight to the pet store. The cheerful sounds of chirping birds filled
the shop as she opened the door and stepped inside. Finches, parakeets, and lovebirds lined a wall in
tall cages, and a small wire pen held fat, white rabbits. Goldfish swam in a good-sized bowl, while
chained to a pole sat a tiny monkey, its toothless mouth chattering at her as she approached. The
pole sat inside a circular metal tub filled with wood shavings, and the chain was long enough to
allow the monkey to jump on the edge of the tank. It held out its little paw to her, a miniature hand,
begging for food or attention—Bonnie wasn’t sure which.
A woman came from around the end of an aisle. She wore a blue smock with the name
Edna
embroidered on it. “His name is Chester. Ignore him. He’s been here longer than I’ve owned the
store. And he’s an ornery little cuss, too.”
Bonnie looked at her and smiled, then stared at the monkey as it stuck out its pink tongue. “He
doesn’t have any teeth.”
“Nope,” Edna said, hunching a shoulder. “They were removed long ago.”
“How old is he?” Bonnie asked, circling the tub as the monkey watched her with its intense, dark
brown eyes.
“I would guess he’s around thirty years old.”
“And he’s lived here all his life?”
“Most of it.” The woman slipped her hands inside the two front pockets of her smock. “The
story I got was that he belonged to some wealthy family who bought him for their little boy. When
Chester bit him, they had his teeth pulled.”
“Oh, how awful! For the monkey, I mean.”
“The family kept the monkey for about a year and then brought him to the pet store. Said he
wasn’t a good pet. The father wanted to have it killed, but the boy begged him not to. I guess they
didn’t know what else to do with him.”
“And he’s been here all this time?” Bonnie asked. The older woman nodded. “What kind of
monkey is he?”
“He’s a capuchin. They come from South America. I guess they’re kind of popular pets down
there.”
Chester stretched his nimble hand toward Bonnie again. “What does he want?”
“Food,” she said. “He’s always hungry. But I’m sure you aren’t here to feed Chester. What can I
help you with?”
Bonnie pulled her gaze from the monkey. “I just got a cat,” she said, a smile broadening across
her face. “I need a few things for her.”
The older woman smiled and adjusted the belt around her thick waist. “How nice for you. Cats
are such wonderful pets. Have you had a cat before?”
Bonnie shook her head. “No, not really…been around a few barn cats. But I love animals, all
kinds.”
“That’s a good start. Now let’s see, you’ll need some food.” Edna walked to another aisle. “Since
the war, I haven’t been able to get canned food for the dogs and cats.” She sighed heavily and
looked over her shoulder at Bonnie. “Pet food is classified as ‘non-essential’,” she continued,
“although if you ask me, it’s pretty essential to the dogs and cats.” She laughed and went to a big
bin. “But we have some kibble that’ll work. How much would you like?”
Bonnie blinked. “I don’t know…how much do they eat?”
“Oh, not much,” she said, reaching for a brown paper bag. “Let’s start with a couple of pounds.
Give the cat a small bowl of it. That should go a day or two. Be sure it has plenty of fresh water.”
She scooped some food into the bag and placed it on a scale. “There’s a bit more than two pounds,”
she said, eyeing the needle on the scale.
“I want bowls for her,” Bonnie said as the woman folded the sack closed. “Do you have those,
maybe something special for cats?”
“Sure do. I have ones that say ‘kitty’ on the edge, some with little paw prints painted on it; I even
have one that says ‘Princess’.”
“Here name is Baby Girl,” Bonnie said with a note of pride. “I think…this one, two of them.”
She pointed to pink dishes with tiny black paw prints circling the inside rim. “And I want her to
have a toy.”
Edna placed the food on the counter next to the register and picked up two of the pink dishes.
“Toys are over there. Do you need sand?”
Bonnie paused on her way to the toys and turned back. “Sand?”
“For the litter box? Unless you plan to have her go outdoors.”
Bonnie shook her head. “No, I want her to stay inside where it’s safe. It would kill me if she got
run over by a car or hurt by a dog.”
Edna smiled and nodded. “It’s nice to see someone care about a pet like that. You wouldn’t
believe how some people treat their animals—leave them out in all kinds of weather, believe they
can fend for themselves, chain them in the back yard and ignore them. It breaks my heart.”
Bonnie looked thoughtfully at the woman and then glanced at Chester. “It’s horrible what some
people can do to animals,” she replied.
And children, too…
“Just get a cardboard box from the grocer and cut it down, then fill it with about an inch or two
of sand.” She came up beside Bonnie to look at the toys.
“I don’t know what she’d like,” Bonnie said, bringing her fingers to her lips.
“Can’t go wrong with a catnip mouse.” Edna picked up a little box with a picture of a cloth
mouse sporting a yarn tail. “Cats love catnip. It makes them real frisky.”
“Catnip,” Bonnie repeated. “Okay, I’ll take one, and what about this little ball?” She picked up
the package and shook it. She could hear a bell inside. “She’ll like that, too.”
The woman wrote down the items in a ticket book and totaled the sale. Bonnie paid for
everything, then worried how she was going to carry it all home. The weight of the sand and the
kibble nearly broke her arms as she hoisted them up and grabbed the sack of dishes and toys. “Let
me help you to your car,” Edna said, coming around the counter.
“I walked, but I don’t live far—only about eight blocks.”
The woman scowled as she watched Bonnie fight with the load. “Tell you what,” she said. “I
close up in twenty minutes. How about I give you a ride home? My car’s just out back.”
Bonnie placed the heavy bag of sand on the counter and peered at her. Even though the distance
wasn’t much, she knew the bags would get heavier and heavier as she went. “That’s very kind of
you. Thank you.”
Edna reached into the pocket of her smock and handed Bonnie a ring of keys. “Take this,” she
said, searching for the car key. “Go out that back door, unlock the trunk of the car, and put
everything in there. I just have to water the animals and check on the rabbits. One of the females is
pregnant.”
Bonnie hoisted the heavy bag of sand and headed for the back door. “My name’s Bonnie,” she
called back.
“Edna. But you probably knew that from my uniform.”
“Thanks again, Edna.”
///////
Bonnie made her way up the apartment stairs and dropped the heavy packages beside the door.
She took out her key and unlocked the door, then inched it open, peering inside for the cat. Bonnie
saw her curled up in the chair. She smiled as the kitten blinked its sleepy eyes, yawned, and stretched
its front paws out full length, the tiny claws extending out and back.
Bonnie scooted everything inside and closed the door. Baby Girl jumped from the chair and
trotted toward her, meowing a high-pitched greeting. Bonnie picked her up and snuggled the cat
against her face. “I have a surprise for you,” she murmured. “Yes, I do. But first, let’s get you some
food.”
Bonnie busied herself with her purchases as the kitten kept close to her feet, chasing her steps,
pouncing on her shoes whenever she stood still. Bonnie laughed at Baby Girl’s antics and measured
out some of the kibble into the new bowl. She set the bowl on the kitchen floor and waited to see
what the kitten would do. “Give it a try,” Bonnie coaxed.
Baby Girl worked her nose over the dry food and took one of the pellets into her mouth. She
immediately crunched it up and swallowed, then went for another. Bonnie put a bowl of water
beside the food, then left to attend to the litter box while her kitten ate.
Bonnie changed into a robe and stretched out across the living room floor. She lay on her side
and called the kitten, the catnip mouse and ball at the ready. Baby Girl trotted over obediently and
rammed the side of her face against Bonnie’s chin, already purring. Bonnie giggled and presented the
mouse. Baby Girl jumped on it, her ears back, her eyes wide. She grasped it between her front paws,
rolled onto her side, and kicked it with her hind feet. She got a wild look on her face and suddenly
darted away, only to turn about, arch her back, and half gallop, half pounce toward the toy.
Bonnie spent the better part of the evening playing with the kitten, watching her romp and chase
until Baby Girl fell onto her side, her front legs stretched out before her. It was as if a switch had
been thrown that shut the kitten off. Bonnie let out a laugh as Baby Girl’s lungs pumped to
replenish her spent energy. The kitten let out a contented sigh and fell into a deep sleep. Bonnie
couldn’t resist and slipped her hand beneath the animal, got to her feet, and sat in the chair. She held
Baby Girl in her hand, resting it in her lap, the other hand gently stroking the kitten’s head.
She’d never had anything to call her own, nothing that needed her for any reason. There was a
strange sensation in the pit of her stomach, something that made her feel wanted. It seemed foolish
that a kitten could do this to her. She wondered what it would have been like if she’d kept her baby.
She would have had someone to need her then, wouldn’t she…someone she could watch over and
care for and to keep her from feeling so alone. But it hadn’t been a baby she could keep. It would
have been a mistake…
Bonnie pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. She couldn’t afford
to dwell on such things. Nothing could ever change the past. No amount of wishing would ever
undo what she had done. She’d pay for that decision the rest of her life, too. She’d never be able to
get pregnant again, not after that butcher job of an abortion. That’s what the doctor told her after
she was admitted to the hospital, after she’d bled for nearly two days, after she’d nearly died.
Baby Girl opened her eyes and started her motor purring as she climbed up Bonnie’s chest to
settle against her neck. The kitten reached out and placed a tiny paw on Bonnie’s face and left it
there as if to make sure she was hers. Tears swelled in Bonnie’s eyes and slid down her cheeks. For
the first time in her life, she had something of her own to love.

Thursday morning, Bonnie watched the hands on the clock drag through the hours as if they
were swimming against a tidal wave. When her lunch time finally arrived, she quickly clocked out
and went to the nearest pay phone. She fumbled through her handbag for the calling card from Mr.
Hammond. Her fingers were a little shaky as she dropped the coin into the slot and dialed the
number.

“Harry. How can I help you?”
“Um, Mr. Hammond?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
Bonnie swallowed back her nervousness and tried to sound confident. “Yes, Mr. Hammond, this

His voice went up in pitch as he spoke. “Oh, yes, Miss Cooper. I’m so glad you called. I’ve
interviewed the other candidates, and I’m happy to say that we’ve decided to offer you the job.”
Bonnie closed her eyes and put both hands to the receiver. “Really?” she breathed with relief.
“Mr. Hammond, thank you so much. I promise I’ll do a good job—”
“I’m sure you will, Miss Cooper. That’s why I chose you over the others. Now, when can you
start?”
“When would you
like
me to start?”
“Well, to be honest, if it wouldn’t be an imposition on your current employer, I’d like to have
you begin on Monday.”
“This Monday?” Bonnie’s mind whirled as she thought about telling Mrs. Kemp. “Yes, I’m
certain Monday will be fine.”
Mr. Hammond cleared his throat. “Now as to your wages, you’ll start at ninety cents an hour,
with a five-cent increase after ninety days if you prove yourself—”
“Ninety cents!” Bonnie exclaimed. She only made seventy-five cents at the Rose Building. “Mr.
Hammond, that’s very generous of you. Thank you!”
There was a slight pause. “We believe in treating our employees well, Miss Cooper. You see, we
run on the theory that if you’re treated well, you will work harder in return.”
“Yes, and I will, Mr. Hammond.”
“Good. I’ll see you next week then, Miss Cooper. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” Bonnie returned the receiver to the hook and clasped a hand to her throat. She
could feel her heart racing with anticipation as she left the phone booth. Now she was faced with
the task of telling Mrs. Kemp. She decided she’d tell her tomorrow at the end of the day so she
wouldn’t have to hear too much of Mrs. Kemp’s derision—at least, that’s what she expected from
her. At any rate, it didn’t matter what Mrs. Kemp thought or did. Bonnie had a new job and a fresh
start. And this time, she was going to be more careful.
Bonnie went to Woolworth’s on the chance that Christine would be there. As she wound her
way toward the luncheonette, she saw her sitting alone at the counter. She tapped Christine on the
shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you today,” she said somewhat breathlessly.
Christine swiveled toward her. “What happened?”
Bonnie waited a moment as a man sitting beside Christine laid some coins on his check and got
up to leave. Bonnie took the empty seat and grasped hold of Christine’s arm. “I got a new job,” she
said.
Christine’s eyes widened. “You did? Where?”
“It’s a factory or warehouse or something like that. I start on Monday, and for more money!”
Christine tried to smile and turned back to her chicken sandwich. “Good. I’m happy for you.”
Bonnie didn’t know if Christine’s lack of enthusiasm for her was jealousy, disinterest, or just
what. She let out a sigh. “Now don’t be like that,” she chided gently. “This is good for me. Can’t you
at least be happy about that?”
Christine lifted her sandwich, then put it back down on the plate. “I’m sorry.” She faced Bonnie
and managed a smile. “Sure, I’m happy for you. And you’re right—it’s probably best to get away
from Mr. Warsoff.”
Bonnie’s face grew serious. “Has he said anything?”
Christine tugged on the crust of her bread. “No, not really. But he, well, he…”
“What?” Bonnie asked, waving the waitress away. “He what, Christine?”
Christine lowered her gaze, and then her mouth drew into a hard line. “He asked me for a drink
last night.”
Bonnie’s eyes flew wide. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? You went, didn’t you?”
Christine snorted and shook her head. “No, I didn’t go with him. He’s hurt and just looking for
the nearest thing in a dress to make him feel better. I’m not going out with him under those
circumstances…not on the rebound.”
“But it’s what you were hoping for, wasn’t it?” Bonnie countered. “Just because he wasn’t right
for me doesn’t mean—”
Christine held up her hand. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said. “I’m waiting for Joe. And after
seeing what happened with you, you know, dating someone from work, well, I decided it probably
wasn’t a good idea. Too many complications if things don’t…well, work out.”
Bonnie reached over to Christine’s plate and snagged a potato chip. She munched on it as she
thought. “You’re probably right about that. I know I feel foolish about it now. And believe me, I’ve
learned my lesson. I’m not getting involved with anyone at my new job, that’s for sure.”
Christine pushed her half-eaten sandwich toward Bonnie. “You can finish it if you want,” she
said. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
Bonnie shrugged and picked up the sandwich. “I start on Monday. Now all I have to do is tell
Mrs. Kemp.” Christine didn’t say anything. She sipped on her coffee, and Bonnie reached for her
arm. “Now don’t be that way, Christine. We’ll see each other.”
“I know,” she said with a feeble smile. “We will.”
“You know, I have you to thank for getting me a job—”
“I didn’t get you a job—you got it yourself. All I did was tell you about an opportunity.”
“Okay, maybe so. But I’m still thankful. Iwas new in town and didn’t know what I was going to
do next…”
Christine smiled and placed her hand on Bonnie’s arm. “I don’t have many friends, Bonnie. You
might not believe this, but I’m sort of shy. You know that day I came to your table? The day we
met?” She paused and looked into her coffee cup. “That was a real step for me. I usually ate lunch
alone.”
“So what made that day different?” Bonnie was curious now.
Christine raised a shoulder, let it fall. “I don’t know. You looked a little lost, I guess. Maybe even
a little afraid. You looked like you needed a friend.”
Bonnie took a bite of the sandwich. She’d never really needed a friend—never needed
anyone
,
really. Now, hearing Christine say it made her feel a little guilty for wishing her away, for wanting to
make a clean break from the Rose Building and everything about it.
Christine was right. She had been afraid, and she’d certainly felt lost. She remembered that day,
sitting in the café with all the money in her purse, the tension still creeping up the back of her neck
as if someone would jump out from the shadows to arrest her. She hadn’t realized until now just
how comfortable she’d become, how she could go for days and not think about what had happened
in San Diego. Maybe she was foolish to do so. Maybe she could get too comfortable, careless…and
end up blindsided.
///////
Corporal Glen Taggart was bivouacked outside La Havre, France, waiting to board a Liberty
ship. He sat on the ground and smoothed out a piece of paper on his lap. He held the stub of a
pencil between his thick fingers and thought about what he wanted to write. He was anxious to get
stateside, but not so anxious to get back to Omaha. Nothing and no one waited for him there,
except his father. He’d been living with his father right up to his enlistment, had worked at the
stockyards, had lived an aimless existence. He had no direction in his life, no goals, nothing that
seemed appealing enough to quit the stockyards. But that was going to change—it had to. He
couldn’t go home and return to his old life…if he could call it a life. It was more of an existence, just
a passage of time with nothing remarkable to distinguish the days. No, he couldn’t do that again.
The war had changed him, had matured him in a way he hadn’t expected. He’d watched as
people’s lives had been changed forever, soldiers around him and civilians, too. A villager might
leave his wife and family in the morning and be dead before noon in a bombing raid. A woman
could be walking her child to school, then be snuffed out in the blink of an eye. He wouldn’t forget
those lessons, wouldn’t forget that life should be considered a precious gift. He couldn’t go home
now and squander his future. For whatever reason his life had been spared, Glen was determined to
make it count. And because he could do nothing now for Charlie, it was even more important that
he make something of himself in honor of his friend.
Glen put the pencil on the paper and began.
Dear Dad,
I’ll be sailing from France tomorrow and you’ll get this letter before I finally get home. I’m not
coming to Omaha right away. I have some business in Montana I need to take care of for my friend
Charlie. I wrote you about him. He was a great guy. I never had a better friend. He left a letter for
his wife and asked that I deliver it to her in person, and that’s what I’m going to do. I know it will
delay my arrival home, but this is something important and I want to do it for him. So I’ll head to
Montana as soon as I’m discharged. I don’t know how long it’ll take to get there and do what I need
to do. I’ll telephone when I get stateside. Don’t worry, though. I’ll be home as soon as I can.
Give my love to Aunt Irene.
Your son,
Glen
He heaved out a sigh and rubbed his tired eyes. He couldn’t let himself think too much, couldn’t
let his mind ruminate over the past three years. It was too oppressive and dark. If he wasn’t careful
he’d be swallowed up in the darkness of that abyss and never know anything good again. He tried
not to think about Charlie—at least, not for now. He would have to, he knew, once he shipped out
and was headed to Montana.
Glen tried not to think about Amy and what he might say to her. He was certain he would be
inadequate to the task and toyed with the idea of simply mailing the letter to her. Then he regretted
such a temptation and knew he owed Charlie more than that, owed Amy more than that. He could
help her remember Charlie for a while longer. She’d have to move on eventually, try to start again.
He hoped she would, anyway. She deserved to be happy again with someone else. And then he
thought about all the widows who would have to start again, move on, and about all the surviving
servicemen, maimed and torn to pieces. They’d have to start again too, without a hand or a leg, or
something else they’d sacrificed to the war. He shook out a cigarette, lit it, and stretched out on the
cot. He couldn’t think anymore.
///////