Trauma Read Online Free PDF Page B

giant parrot. She gently took away Mrs. Goodman’s coffee mug and set it down on the table.
    â€œWhy do you think he did it?” Mrs. Goodman asked her, after a while.
    â€œI guess only two people know that, Mrs. Goodman. Your late husband and God.”
    â€œHe loved our babies so much. I think he loved them more than I did. He was always saying that they made him proud, because they were ours, and
I
made him proud.”
    â€œYou never know nobody completely,” said Bonnie. “Take my husband. What he thinks about, it’s a total mystery. Well, it is to me.”
    Mrs. Goodman unfolded a Kleenex and dabbed it against her cheeks. “My father always said that Aaron would come to no good. He said he was beneath me, I should have married a lawyer or a realtor, somebody professional, not a dry cleaner.”
    â€œHey, you can’t help who you fall in love with.”
    â€œI know. But why did he
do
it? I talked to him on the phone only about a half hour before it happened, and he sounded fine. He was talking about going to the reservoir Friday to do some fishing. You don’t talk about fishing and then kill your children.”
    Bonnie took hold of her hand. “I can’t even begin to understand why your late husband did what he did, Mrs. Goodman, but I can do my best to clean this place up for you so that you can go on living the rest of your life.”
    The tears began to slide down Mrs. Goodman’s cheeks again, and this time she made no effort to wipe them away. “They were so beautiful. They were so, so beautiful. Little Benjamin, little Rachel, little Naomi.”
    Bonnie waited for a decent period while Mrs. Goodman silently wept. Eventually she glanced at her watch. “Mrs. Goodman, most people don’t realize that the police don’t do the cleaning up after a tragedy like this. You have to call in a specialist cleaner like me and pay for it yourself. Now I’m not the only cleaner available. I’ll give you an estimate, but you’re welcome to look in the Yellow Pages if you think my prices are too high.”
    Mrs. Goodman frowned at her as if she were speaking Greek.
    â€œDo you have insurance, Mrs. Goodman?” Bonnie persisted. “I’m sorry to sound so businesslike, but a cleaning job like this could run you into quite a lot of expense.”
    â€œInsurance?”
    â€œYou should listen to her, Mrs. Goodman,” Dan put in. “This lady knows what she’s talking about.”
    â€œRight now, Mrs. Goodman, you’re at your most vulnerable,” Bonnie told her. “You’re going to have all kinds of sharks circling. People offering to clean your house, sort out your legal problems, restructure your finances. All I’m trying to do is protect your interests here.”
    â€œAaron never cared about money. If he had it, he spent it.”
    â€œI’m sure. But this job could cost upward of fifteen-hundred dollars, not to mention replacement rugs and furniture. You’re probably okay. Most regular insurance policies also cover trauma-loss restoration. If you give me the name of your insurance agent, I’ll talk to him this afternoon—see if you’re entitled to put in a claim.”
    â€œInsurance agent? I don’t know. Aaron handled all of that.”
    â€œWell, no need to stampede. Here’s my card. As soon as you find out who he is, give me a call.”
    â€œYou can do it, though? You can clean it all up? You can make it look the way it was before?”
    â€œPretty much, Mrs. Goodman, yes.”
    â€œYou can’t make my life look the way it was, though, can you?”
    â€œNo, Mrs. Goodman, I can’t do that.”
    Mrs. Goodman gave Bonnie’s hand a tighter squeeze. Her fingers were very cold, and it was like being gripped by a corpse. “Will you call me Bernice?”
    â€œBernice? For sure, if that’s what you want.”

    Just as Bonnie was leaving