Part 1. Bonnie and Jim
The night was cool and crisp and bright, and the crescent moon glimmered on the grassy meadow. Hand in hand, a boy and girl strolled across the carpet of green. The June breeze blew softly through her satiny hair and wafted the refreshing scent of peach blossoms. He reached for a small bough of the delicate flowers and broke it off for her as she smiled affectionately.
“For you, my pretty one,” he said.
“Jim,” she said, her soft voice carrying an almost serious tone, “did you ever wonder how two people can be so happy?”
Slightly surprised—for Bonnie seldom was so bold in philosophizing—he squeezed her hand tightly. “And why is everything so good and beautiful to those same two?”
“Because,” she said simply, “God made it that way.”
“And,” he added, “God is love.”
Bonnie was silent, not knowing quite how to interpret his words. Was he really in love with her? Was that why he said that?
Now they came to the road that led back to Bonnie’s house. “When we get back,” he said, his voice pleasant but business-like, “let’s practice some more for tomorrow.”
Tomorrow! That was the Talent Festival—how could she forget? For weeks Jim had been practicing for this big day. Tomorrow would decide his future....
Her mind went back to many years ago; in fact, almost as long as she could remember, she had known Jim. There had been the Saturday night motion pictures at the college, and the eighth-grade banquet, their first actual date. Then there were the bike rides and the picnics in the park, and the many, many times he had come over to practice. Through the years their musical skills, and their friendship, had grown together.
The clock was striking ten as Bonnie’s slim fingers trickled over the piano keyboard and the last notes from Jim’s clarinet faded into silence. “Very good!” She applauded and grinned.
“You’re the one they should clap for,” he said. “I couldn’t do it without you.” He put the instrument in its case.
When she rose from the piano stool, she felt his hand touch her waist lightly.
“You’re a good girl,” he whispered.
Just then there was the sound of a hotrod motor and brakes screeching into the driveway.
“Oh,” she said, “Johnny must be home.”
“Your twin?” he teased. “This early on a Saturday night?”
They laughed, and then Jim opened the door. “I’ll be by about two o’clock tomorrow,” he said, “okay?”
She nodded. “Goodnight, Jim.”
Minutes later, Bonnie heard the back door slam and her brother’s footsteps in the kitchen. She entered the kitchen and found him raiding the refrigerator.
“Oh, hi, Sis.” He looked up sheepishly as he brought out a couple of two-day-old doughnuts.
“Well, hello, Romeo,” she said, sitting down. “Who did you take out?”
He pulled out a chair across from her and took a big bite from a doughnut. “Renée,” he said coolly.
“Johnny!” Bonnie gasped.
He grinned. “What’s the matter?”
She giggled. “You little stinker!”
“She’s quite a girl,” he said, dreamily staring past his sister.
“But what’s happened to Ken?” she asked, ignoring Johnny’s mood.
“Oh, I think he’s going back with Cheri,” was his answer.
“Well, it’s about time. I hope it lasts this time. But, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s happened so many times.” It’s happened so many times. Yes, she remembered when Renée once had Bonnie’s own Jim. It was only last year when Bonnie and Jim had drifted apart. That was a strange world, that world without Jim. She remembered the unfeelingness and emotion, the independence yet mixed-upness of it all. Even now she halfway smiled as she saw herself slam a locker in a moment of fierce emotion—so unlike her gentle nature—and the times he had come over to practice while he was still going with Renée. Bonnie had been so cold—so different from the usually friendly Bonnie Mayfield. Even after Renée and Jim broke up and Jim wanted to date Bonnie again—although a few parents forbade it—her hurt pride made her act like she really didn’t want to go out with him, anyway. He had tried to convince her she was his best girl, but then when he walked to school with Renée the very next day—that did it!
“Are you, Bonnie?” Johnny’s voice interrupted her reminiscing, and his voice carried a tone of urgency as if he had asked her before.
“Oh,”—she came back to reality— “am I what?”
“Playing for Jim tomorrow?” he finished.
She nodded as she rose from her chair, yawning. “’Night, Johnny,” she said, wandering toward her room.
