Secrets of the Red Box (28 page)

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.
Her fingers traced the dimpled line in his cheek and she smiled. “I love you.”
///////
With the cat crisis handled, Glen stayed to help Bonnie unpack the boxes. She worked on
organizing the kitchen as he emptied boxes and placed their contents on the drop-leaf table. When
he’d finished that, he wandered to the bedroom to see what he could do there. He wasn’t sure he
could do much with clothing, especially since he didn’t know just where she’d want things. On the
floor beside the bed was a box, its flaps loosely folded. He opened it and saw a red leather box
inside. Lifting it into his hands, he examined it, turning it from side to side. Glen walked into the
living room, the red box grasped between his hands.
“Where do you want this box?” he called as he neared the kitchen.
Bonnie turned from the sink where she was washing the unpacked dishes. Her eyes filled with
panic and the color drained from her face. She grabbed a dishcloth to dry her hands and came
toward him. “Here, I’ll take that,” she said, her voice a bit unnerved.
Glen saw the flash of anxiety on Bonnie’s face. “What’s in it?” he asked curiously.
“Oh, just stuff,” she said, relieving him of the box. “You know—keepsakes, mementos, nothing
important.”
Glen’s brows arched. “Like what?” he teased, reaching for the box. “Letters from old
boyfriends?”
Bonnie sidestepped his reach, her eyes narrowed. “It’s private! Leave it alone,” she snapped. “It’s
none of your business!”
Glen recoiled as if he’d been bitten. “Okay, geez.”
Bonnie looked as though she regretted her reaction. Her face softened slightly. “I’m sorry,” she
said to him. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
She set the box on the kitchen table and turned back to Glen. “Why don’t we call it a night?
With the move and losing Baby Girl and everything, I’m done in.”
Glen nodded. It had been a long day, and he conceded that Bonnie was probably tired. But there
was something in her voice that sent a shiver down his spine. “Okay, sure. I’ll come back tomorrow
and take all the empty boxes away, help with whatever’s left.”
Bonnie clasped her hands together, but Glen saw that her fingers were trembling. He wrapped
his hands around hers. “What’s wrong, babe? You’re shaking.”
She attempted a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired. I think I’ll go to bed when you leave.”
Glen didn’t like the way Bonnie looked, her quivering hands, the coolness in her voice. It was as
if a curtain had dropped between them, separating them from their usual intimacy. “Did I say
something wrong? What happened?”
Bonnie swallowed and pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Just go, Glen,” she huffed with
exasperation. “I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”
He’d never seen her like this before. She seemed agitated and disturbed, but he didn’t
understand why. Maybe it was the red box. Maybe he shouldn’t have touched it, but how was he to
know? He was only trying to be helpful.
“Sure, you’ve been through a lot today.” He walked to the door, but Bonnie didn’t follow him a s
she usually did. There would be no good night kiss. His brows drew together, interlaced with
concern. “Good night,” he managed to say.
Closing the door behind him, Glen walked down to his car, perplexed and worried.
///////
Bonnie locked the door, her fingers numb. She turned and stared at the red box. Her heart rose
in her throat, beating out a rhythm that clattered against her jaw. What if Glen had managed to open
it? The thought paralyzed her. She knew it was locked. If it hadn’t been, there would ha ve been a
very different end to the evening.
Bonnie took the box into her hands, holding it gingerly as if it would burn her skin, and went
back to the bedroom. Just to be certain, she tested the lock. Yes, it was still sealed. She should have
felt some sort of relief at that, but it didn’t alleviate her earlier alarm.
As if driven to do so, Bonnie retrieved the key from the little silk purse and unlocked the box.
She raised the lid, her fingers trembling. She looked inside, reached in, and riffled through the items
from her past. She surveyed them all, took a photograph between her fingers, looked at the faces—
faces that seemed distant and yet amazingly vivid in her memory. Pieces of paper, lists of details,
proof of her guilt all ran together as she relived each appalling detail. She couldn’t help herself,
couldn’t stop from sifting through the box, dredging up each ugly memory in her mind.
Bonnie closed her eyes against the painful reminders. She drew in a breath and knew she should
get rid of the box once and for all. There was no sense in risking the discovery of her repulsive past,
a past that could send her to prison. She couldn’t bear the thought of Glen knowing what she’d
done. It would crush him, and in turn destroy her. But she was so tired, so emotionally drained that
she decided to set it aside and deal with it later.
Bonnie went to the closet and opened a hat box. She removed the hat, shoved the red box
inside, and crashed down the lid, then placed it on the top shelf. When she closed the door, she was
relieved she could no longer see it.

Bonnie had always been good at pretending. She’d spent the last few years projecting deceptions,
forgetting what was real. Now she worked that ability in reverse, suppressing the reality of her
secrets from her conscious mind. Whenever they surfaced, she tamped them down, focused her
attention on work, Baby Girl, and Glen, blinding herself with happiness as if the red leather box no
longer mattered.

Bonnie and Glen continued to meet with the Orton family each Sunday, sharing dinners with
them. Bonnie loved going to Irene’s house, becoming a part of her family every week. She’d finally
succumbed to Irene’s constant urging to pick her up for work. The rides to and from Kirkendall’s
had become one of the best parts of her day. They talked about the family and Glen, about Baby
Girl and the future. Bonnie actually felt she
had
a future now, one that filled her with delight.

As Thanksgiving neared, Bonnie received her food assignment—pumpkin pie. She was elated
and frightened by the task. She’d never made a pie before in her life, and Irene had told her that if
she thought it was too much, she could bring something else. Knowing that pumpkin pie ran second
only to turkey as the epitome of Thanksgiving dinner, she was worried about the results. But she
was also determined to conquer every culinary test that came her way. She wanted to be a good
cook.

Bonnie purchased a cookbook titled
Pies-A-Plenty
that covered everything from how to make pie
crust to making the perfect meringue. She purchased all the ingredients she’d need to practice her
pie making a week in advance of the holiday. Nothing would prevent her from presenting perfectly
made pumpkin pies for the family dinner.

The Saturday before Thanksgiving, she was on her third attempt at making a flaky, golden crust.
Her first two attempts had resulted in one burned crust and one crust so tough she couldn’t cut it.
The pumpkin pie filling didn’t seem as daunting. She felt more confident in that aspect of her
baking, but it wouldn’t matter if it the crust had failed.

A knock on the door drew her away from her rolling pin, and she wiped her floured hands on
her apron. “Coming,” she called cheerfully.
If anyone had told her a year ago that she’d be baking pies and enjoying it, she’d have laughed at
them. Yet, here she was doing things she never expected to be doing for people she loved.
When she opened the door, Glen was there, grinning, his dimples pitching her heart out of
rhythm. Glen always had that effect on her. Whenever he came into view her pulse went racing.
Hearing his voice gave her chills, and when he took her in his arms she melted into a helpless
puddle.
“What are you up to, babe?” he asked, giving her a quick peck.
“Making pies,” she replied, closing the door. “Well, practicing to make them, anyway.”
“Can we talk while you practice?” he asked, draping his arms around her waist.
Bonnie studied him a moment, taking him in, relishing how she felt in his presence. She kissed
him and stepped away from his embrace. “Sure, pull up a chair. I’m going to get this crust right this
time.”
“How many crusts have you made?”
“This is the third, but I think I’ve figured it out.”
Glen grinned and pulled out one of the chairs tucked beneath the drop-leaf table. “You’re
determined, I can see that.”
Bonnie floured her rolling pin and nodded. “This is my first Thanksgiving, and I don’t want it to
be my last,” she said with a light-hearted laugh.
“No, it won’t be your last,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “Far from it.”
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked without lifting her eyes from the pie crust.
“I’ve got Coke and Pabst in there.”
When he didn’t answer right away, she pried her eyes from her work and looked at him. He sat
there staring at her, smiling. “What?” she asked self-consciously. “Do I have flour on my face?”
His smile broadened and he got up from the chair. “I was just thinking that you’re the most
beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and how lucky I am.” On his way to the refrigerator, he kissed her.
“You even keep my favorite beer on hand, which you don’t even drink. And yes, you have flour on
your face.”
She tried to scrub her cheek with the back of her hand. “Where?”
Glen took a bottle of Coke from the fridge and turned back to her. He lifted the corner of her
apron and daubed at her chin. “Right there.”
She held up her hands as if she was a surgeon who’d just scrubbed in for surgery. “There’s
bound to be more on me before I’m through.”
Glen dropped the apron corner, but didn’t remove his gaze from her. “Marry me, Bonnie.”
She blinked, feeling a groundswell of emotion. Among the flurry of thoughts that sprinted
through her mind, those that would keep her from accepting his proposal vanished in an instant. She
wanted Glen Taggart, wanted to be his wife, wanted to linger in his love forever. Nothing she’d
done before could keep her from the happiness she’d found. In a flash she flung her arms around
his neck, heedless now of the flour. “I will,” she squealed.
He took hold of her floured hands and held them tight. “I’d planned a more romantic proposal,”
he began with a sheepish look. “I’d wanted it to be really special, with a ring and everything, but
looking at you just now, and seeing how much you care about a stupid pie for Thanksgivi ng, and
knowing how much I love you…it just came out.”
“You’re not sorry, are you?” she half-teased. “That you asked me?”
He shook his head slowly, his dimpled creases lengthening along his cheeks. “Not on your life,”
he said, taking her in him arms. “I’ve wanted to ask you for some time, but I needed to get some
things in order first.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not going to school,” he said. “I’ve been offered a position with Andrew as an underwriter.
He says I’m a natural and I think I’ll really like it. The point is, I’ll be working full time and making
decent money. We can start off right, Bonnie…you and me and Baby Girl.”
She kissed him now, her soul aching for him. She wondered why he didn’t press her for more
intimacy. Not that she necessarily cared, but it did seem odd. Other men she’d known had always
wanted more from her. She glided her hands along his shoulders, pulled him into her kiss.
Glen gently pushed her back, his expression almost painful. “Whoa,” he whispered. “I can’t…I
can’t…”
“It’s all right,” she said, tasting him again, her voice deepening with desire. “I want you, Glen…”
His hands slid down her back, grasping her hips to pull her in. “Bonnie…I want you so
much…”
She was surprised when he stepped away, panting. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes misted
with rejection.
“I…I want it to be the right way, Bonnie.”
He looked at her now, and she understood what he was trying to say. No man had ever cared
enough about her to consider such a thing. Her heart welled with love for him. He made her feel
incredibly special and prized, as though she was worth waiting for. She knew she could weaken his
resolve, push him over the edge, but she didn’t want to spoil his vision of her. She had earned his
respect, his admiration, and she valued that far too much to throw it away for a few minutes of
passion.
She peered into his dark, penetrating eyes, feeling her love for him rise up with such intensity
she feared she couldn’t contain it. “You are a sweet, wonderful man, Glen Taggart,” she said softly,
caressing his check with her dusty hand. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
Glen took her hand from his cheek and kissed her palm. Bonnie laughed, the flour now covering
his face and lips. “What?” he asked with a crooked smile.
Bonnie took her apron and wiped his face. He grinned. “I can’t wait to tell Irene we’re getting
married,” she said with a girlish giggle.
“When do you want to get married? What kind of wedding do you want?” He picked up his
neglected Coke and drew off a long swallow.
Bonnie didn’t have to think long. “As soon as we can arrange it, and I don’t want a fancy
wedding, not a church wedding. Just something simple, maybe in Irene’s living room.”
Glen considered her a moment. “Are you sure about that? Don’t most women want something
more elaborate?”
“Maybe most women would, but not me. I just want to be Mrs. Glen Taggart, and I don’t care if
we’re married in our underwear.”
Glen laughed, swept her up in his arms, and whirled around the kitchen. “Okay, but let’s make it
new underwear.”
///////
They were about to be married in the Orton living room on Saturday, December 1, 1945 by
Irene and Don’s pastor. Glen wore his dark gray suit and sported a white carnation boutonnière.
Bonnie bought a new wool suit of robin’s egg blue with a scalloped neckline and white pearl buttons
at the sleeves and down the front. She’d piled her hair on top of her head, threaded with a delicate
crescent-shaped headpiece of white toile and seed pearls. She held a simple bouquet of white
carnations and pink rosebuds that matched the blush in her cheeks.
Don busied himself snapping pictures with the Kodak. The living room had been cleared of
furniture, except for the piano, so everyone could squeeze in. Irene scurried about organizing people
so they could best see the bride and groom. Bonnie and Glen stood near the piano, with the pastor
waiting behind them.
Bonnie had insisted on simplicity—no decorations or additional flowers, not even a wedding
cake. In her mind, the event of most importance was the marriage itself. She’d also instructed the
family not to give presents, and that their attendance at the wedding was gift enough.
For a moment, she wished her mother were there. She knew it would please her mother to see
her so completely happy, something Jean Murphy might have wished for her daughter but probably
never expected.
The pastor checked his watch and announced they were ready to begin. Ann sat at the piano.
She smoothed open the sheet music and started to play
(I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons
, a song
that Bonnie had requested. Bonnie hummed quietly to the beginning of the song as everyone
gathered into position.
I love you for sentimental reasons. I hope you do believe me. I’ll give you my
heart…
Bonnie took Glen’s hand and peered into his eyes as the music played. She sang quietly to
him as if there was no one else there.
I think of you every morning, dream of you every night. Darling, I’m never
lonely whenever you are in sight…
She saw how his eyes took in every nuance, every moment she offered him, as if she could burn
them into his memory forever. He held her hands and she felt his strength, his desire burning her
skin.
I love you for sentimental reasons
….
I hope you do believe me
… Glen leaned forward and kissed
Bonnie’s cheek.
I’ve given you my heart.
Bonnie was suddenly aware of the quiet, that the music had stopped and everyone was watching.
She blushed and glanced about the room with an embarrassed smile. Glen grinned and pulled her
close, kissing her temple, then turned her toward the waiting pastor.
Irene and Don were to Bonnie’s left, standing in as her parents, and Al Taggart to Glen’s right.
The pastor offered some words of advice, then read from the book in his hands. The couple
exchanged gold wedding bands with inscriptions on the inside that read:
Forever yours, Bonnie
;
Forever
yours, Glen
. Silent tears trickled down Irene’s face as she watched the couple kiss as husband and
wife.
An eruption of cheers filled the house as Bonnie and Glen turned to greet the family as a
married couple. Bonnie hugged Irene and Don, then her new father-in-law, Al. With shouts of
congratulations, the newlyweds waded through the family to the cold winter’s day outside. They
were showered with rice as Glen led Bonnie to the car, a heavy blanket of snow clouds obscuri ng
the sun.
“I gave you the key to the apartment, didn’t I?” Bonnie called to Irene with a sudden look of
worry.
“Yes, yes,” Irene said, blotting the tears from her face. “I’ll take care of Baby Girl. Don’t you
worry about her.”
Glen opened the car door for his wife. Bonnie turned back and waved goodbye to the happy
crowd.
This is my family now, my real family…
She had to push back her tears as she took Glen’s hand
and slid into the car. He closed the door, jogged around to the other side, and got in beside her.
“Happy?” he asked.
Bonnie moved close to him, linked her arm through his, and rested her head on his shoulder.
“More than you can ever imagine.”
///////
Bonnie parted the curtains from the window. The view from the tenth floor of the Hotel
Fontenelle lay before her like an offering, as if she could take the entire city for her own. Snow fell
from a milky sky as she stood fingering her wedding band. She could feel the cold throbbing against
the window, chilling her slender frame. It didn’t matter. She loved the beauty of the plump flakes
drifting down in gentle free fall.
As she looked down on the city below, she felt as new and clean as the swathed streets quilted in
snow. She had been washed clean now too, with Glen’s love, her past erased with his accepting
heart.
“Come back to bed,” Glen beckoned.
Bonnie turned her head and saw his curled fingers motioning for her. She smiled and let the
curtains fall into place. She slid in beside him, nested herself next to his warmth, his musky scent.
“It’s snowing,” she said softly as she rested her head against his chest.
Glen stroked the back of her arm with a lazy glide, his cheek pressed against the top of her head.
“I used to like the snow,” he said, his voice muffled against her hair. “Too many days spent i n a
frozen foxhole…I’ve had enough cold to last a lifetime.”
“I think snow is beautiful,” she said, tipping her head so she could see him. “It’s so amazing.”
He kissed her forehead and brushed back her hair. “Why don’t you ever ask me about the war?”
She ran her fingers along his chest. “Because Iknow what it’s like to live through ugly
things…sometimes it hurts too much to talk about them…”
“I’m only sorry you understand that. I wish it had been different for you growing up.”
“I wish you hadn’t fought a war.”
They were quiet a moment, lying together beneath the warm covers, their legs entwined, the
rhythm of their breathing steady and matched. Glen traced the line of Bonnie’s jaw with the edge of
his thumb, then urged her face upward until their lips met.
He let out a tiny sigh and let his fingers trail along her skin. “I was just thinking about Amy and
Charlie…about how much they loved each other.”
Bonnie heard what sounded like regret in his voice. She leaned up on one elbow and looked into
his eyes. “What made you think of them?”
“Because I understand now,” he said, shifting his position so he lay face-to-face with her.
“Because I love you the way Charlie loved Amy. And I was just thinking how hard it must be for
Amy now that she’s alone.” He caressed her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”
Bonnie placed a finger to his lips. “Shhhh.”
He kissed her fingertip, took hold of her hand, and pulled it to his chest. “I wish we could stay
here forever…let the world go on without us.”
She burrowed against him, breathing in his essence, liking the impractical temptation of letting
the world go by. She closed her eyes and felt renewed desire pulse through her body, felt his flesh
heat against her. She envisioned snow floating down upon them, burying their bodies as they
disappeared from view. They were cocooned in a world of their own making, one that knew no time
or space. They melded into each other, smothered beneath a comforter of downy snow.
///////
Glen hefted the last cardboard box onto his shoulder and made the trek up the two floors to
the apartment. He opened the door and scanned the floor to make sure Baby Girl wasn’t near
enough to dart out into the hall. She’d never tried to, he thought, but he knew how devastated
Bonnie would be if the little cat ever did decide to make a run for it.
“That’s the last one,” he announced to Bonnie.
“Okay,” she called from the bedroom. “I’ve made room in the closet…”
Her words became muffled as he imagined her leaning into the closet, her voice lost among the
clothes. He put the box down and went to the bedroom. “It’s a good thing I don’t have any more to
bring over,” he said, flopping onto the bed.