Secrets of the Red Box (38 page)

After leaving Long Beach, Bonnie stayed in Laguna Beach for a couple of months, then on to
San Clemente and Oceanside, finally landing in San Diego. When she found a job as a live -in maid,
she thought she’d found a little stability, but the work was unfulfilling and the money barely
adequate. To occupy her free hours, she’d begun to volunteer at the USO canteen, enjoying the
attention she got from the servicemen. And then she learned about their allotment pay, how it
doubled once they went into battle, learned about the life insurance policy benefit should a soldier
be killed in action, and the idea came to her—she could marry one of those men and live off his pay.
She wouldn’t have to work anymore, wouldn’t have to worry about money. She’d been poor all her
life, dirt poor. It would be so nice to have
something
for once.
When she’d decided to follow through with her idea, Bonnie looked for the most pathetic
person to target—a lonely, unattractive man who would be flattered by her attention, would fall for
her instantly if she mirrored his background. She could make herself into whatever he thought to be
attractive. It had worked so easily with Luther. It was almost sad, she remembered, how quickly he’d
fallen for a complete stranger who’d simply paid him some attention and believed him to be
fascinating. She remembered how inept and fumbling he’d been on their wedding night, yet how
grateful he was the following day to know he was no longer alone. Once Luther shipped out and his
letters started arriving, she read of his love for her, how he yearned for her and promised to love her
forever. She’d never been loved before, not really. And even though she felt nothing for Luther in
return, there was a certain comfort in knowing someone truly cared about her.
Bonnie straightened her posture as the revelation dawned. That had been the reason she’d
married again, hadn’t it? Someone cared for her, someone loved her, even if she didn’t love him
back. She’d tried to convince herself it was all for the money, but now she had to question that
motive. Hadn’t it been exhilarating to know Luther worshiped her? Hadn’t she felt a little less alone,
becoming the focus of someone’s affection? She’d never felt such devotion from another human
being, and she realized now that was what she craved. With Luther gone, the need to feel that again
had drawn her to Wyatt Belka. Couldn’t she repeat the same scenario with him as she had with
Luther? Couldn’t she make him fall in love with her?
Bonnie stared at the floor as the understanding came to her. Tears stung her eyes. She’d
convinced herself she was doing them a favor and that the money made her life easier, but those
excuses were merely masks to hide the real purpose of her deception. In the presence of these men,
she seemed to matter; she was someone of value, someone worth loving. She hadn’t realized until
now how counterfeit that really was, counterfeit because it was an illusion. She only pretended to
feel those things, wanted to believe it was real.
Swiping at her tears, Bonnie reached for her pen and took out some fresh paper. There was no
excuse for what she’d done, no magic wand to wave away her guilt, yet if she could offer an
explanation to Glen, help him understand a portion of her motivation, maybe he could learn to
forgive her. Not that she ever expected him to take her back, but maybe he could find peace and
move on. And maybe, armed with her newfound perception, she might learn to forgive herself.
She would first write to Glen, then to each of the men whose lives she had devastated. She
would write to Christine, Dave, and Paul to set the record straight, offering them her regret and
apology.
With a quivering sigh, Bonnie offered a silent prayer and put pen to paper.
///////
Irene stood at the living room window, staring up the street in search of Glen’s car. Dinner was
nearly ready, and Glen’s children were playing in the backyard. She wrung her hands with
anticipation. When the distinctive spinner grill of the Studebaker Champion sedan appeared, Irene
spun from the window and hurried into the kitchen.
She glanced at the table, the dishes set and waiting. Then she turned to the counter and looked
at the letter propped up against the sugar canister. She wouldn’t call the children in until after Glen
had seen the letter, had the chance to read it.
Reaching for a spoon, Irene stirred the boiled cabbage, then took the roast beef from the oven
to rest. Glen came in through the back door, closing it with his customary flick of the wrist. She
smiled at him and reached for the letter. “It came today,” she said, her voice sounding almost shaky.
Glen set down his briefcase and stared at the letter addressed with Bonnie’s handwriting. He
couldn’t seem to reach for it, couldn’t make himself take the letter from Irene. He swall owed when
she pushed it toward him. His fingers trembled when he took it and shoved it into the inside pocket
of his suit coat. “I’ll read it later,” he said, noting her look of disappointment.
“Of course,” she said, checking the ties of her apron. “You need to be alone—need some
privacy.”
Glen nodded, feeling the weight of the letter against his chest. He wanted to tear it open,
consume the words at once, but he didn’t know what was written there and how he would react. Just
seeing Bonnie’s handwriting had stirred him with unexpected emotions, a mix of apprehension and
excitement. Hesitation began to ebb his emotions, feeling cautious now about reading the letter at
all. There was a certain amount of risk and uncertainty involved in doing so.
He forced himself to focus on his children and dinner, pushing the letter aside for now.
Afterward, when the dishes were done, the children were in bed, and Irene had gone home, Glen sat
at the kitchen table.
Turning the envelope in his hands, he ran a finger beneath its flap and slowly withdrew its
contents. His hands trembled as he unfolded the pages. He noticed a small stain on the paper and
brought it closer for examination. Something had splashed across the date, feathering the ink in a
blur. He realized a tear had wet the page—Bonnie’s tear. Glen felt a sudden rise of longing erupt in
his chest as he touched the tear-stained blot. In writing this letter, she had wept, and the thought of
that made Glen dissolve.
When he finished, he sat back in his chair, absorbing the message she’d penned. He got up to
fetch fresh paper and returned to the kitchen table. He unscrewed the cap from the pen in his shirt
pocket and stared at the blank sheet. He hoped he could write the things that were in his heart, just
as Bonnie had done. Blinking back a moment of hesitation, he began.
Dear Bonnie,
I hardly know where to start. There’s so much rattling around in my head I’m afraid I won’t make any sense, but
I’ll try. First, let me thank you for writing. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you. And to be honest, it wasn’t easy
for me to read either. Despite the sting of revisiting the past, your brutal honesty has touched me, has given me some
measure of understanding. I believe what you’vewritten is truthful, not because you say it is, but because the Bonnie
I’ve known the last five years has never given me reason to doubt her sincerity. That might seem a strange thing to
believe, given the secrets you kept from me for so long. But I realize that in all other respects, we have shared a trusting
relationship.
The last few weeks have been hard on both of us, and hard on our children. They’re too young to understand, and
I can’t bring myself to tell them where you really are. They think you’re out of town visiting your family. They seem
satisfied with that answer for now, but I don’t know how long it will last. Eventually, they’ll want to know when
you’ll be coming home. I don’t know what I’ll tell them then. It seems lying has a place when you’re trying to spare
someone’s feelings. But I guess you know all about that.
When I first found out about everything, I thought I could pretend it hadn’t happened. I thought if I just ignored
it, I could let it go and everything would stay the same. I wish I had been strong enough to keep it all inside, to rise
above the hurt and betrayal I felt. But I couldn’t do it, Bonnie. I knew if I tried, it would only eat me up inside, and I
would end up hating you forever.
You must know how difficult it was for me to do what I did, that it wasn’t done as retaliation against you, or
some sort of justified retribution, but know that I did it for love. I knew that you would have to face your crimes if
there was ever to be a chance for us. I knew that there had to be a clean slate between us so we could start again. I only
hope you can forgive me for what I had to do, and that you’ll eventually find it in your heart to love me for it.
I know that you don’t expect me to be able to forgive you, that what you’ve done has destroyed everything between
us. That’s not true. I can and do forgive you. The truth is I’m equally as miserable without you as I am hurt. When I
think about the past five years we’veshared, our two beautiful child ren, and the future we planned together, it all seems
worth fighting for. I’m not saying that it will be easy to rebuild our lives, but I do believe it’spossible. Maybe I’m a
fool, or just plain stupid, but I still love you, Bonnie. I always will.
I’ll be coming on visiting day to see you, and when your sentence is done, I’ll be waiting for you, with open arms
and an open heart.
With all my love,
Glen
THE END

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