TWO DIFFERENT MEN

Hell! At the end of my criminal career, I came away with a story to tell my grandkids about the day I shit diamonds. I’m Harvey Ellis and this is my story about those brown diamonds.

Of course, I got caught, but not until I had robbed a jewelry store every month for nearly a year. I was young, single, arrogant and overconfident, not with my skills, but with my attitude about the robberies. But failure is inevitable; even a monkey can fall from a tree once in a while.

After high school, I floated from job to job but took none of them seriously. I just needed enough money to party and occasionally get laid. One day I passed a locksmith’s store called The Lock Shop that had a cardboard sign taped to a window that said: HELP WANTED. It seemed like it would be easy, and I like ‘easy.’ Even better was the sub-text that said: NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. I took that to mean I’d learn on the job. I was right. I stayed with that job because it was not only easy, but it was fascinating to learn about different kinds of locks: their quality, their different grades of metal, their strengths and weaknesses, their inner mechanics, and the specialized tools needed to open them. After a few months, I got to have my stethoscope for listening to the inner working mechanisms of combination locks. I also listened to the pin tumblers in every day door locks and in combination locks of superior quality. I was given an old stethoscope, a fifty-dollar version, and informed that in the future it would help if I owned a more expensive one. The boss had a four hundred seventy-dollar pair. But even with my cheap stethoscope, I could hear a flea fart from a mile away. It’s a teeny, tiny, high-pitched sound. Break wind, yes. Break glass, no.

After two years, the owner and my boss, James Turner, promoted me to his assistant because his son would be off to college in the fall. In confidence, Mr. Turner informed me that his son had been his assistant since he was fourteen and in just two years I had already learned more than his son had after five years. “It’s best that he goes to college. This job didn’t interest him, just the pay interested him so he could raise hell with his buddies. That immaturity will be why he’ll likely not find success in college.”

“Maybe a couple of years in the military will help the maturity process for him.”

“Exactly. I’ve mentioned that to him, but he’s aggressively opposed to the idea. My wife and I used to be optimistic, but he’s worn us down like a heavy hand on an overused pencil point. He’s eighteen. Let him find out about the responsibilities that come with independence from a sheltered home life.”

I did not reply. I could see his mood change for the worse. Jim was a good boss and taught me something new about locks or the business almost every week. Occasionally we were not busy. Then Jim would go to a cabinet and pull out a chess set. I thought, “Locksmith vs Chess. Sure. Why not.” Jim taught me the rudimentary moves and beginner strategies. He instructed me to play defense first, so he started by teaching me the Sicilian Defense. A long story made short, I never beat him, never, but he made it fun. Defeat is fun? I can hardly believe I thought that. I got better as the months traveled by mostly unnoticed like the sun’s sneaking its way across the sky. I never would have figured him for a chess player. I liked him. When the time came for me to leave, I’d be genuinely sad.

Jim took me under his wing, and I liked the feeling. Other times when we were not busy, he had me either reading about locks or practicing with his collection of practice locks.

I often watched him at work when I was supposed to be reading. I wondered if he was a good dad and husband. I didn’t know anything about his personal life, nor did he know much about me. I think we both preferred that. He was shorter than I by a few inches, had a bit of a paunch, crew-cut brown hair, and a thick mustache, but otherwise clean-shaven. He had a ruddy complexion; his nose was wide with pronounced nostrils, and he was one of those people without an ear lobe. The bottom of his ear angled straight into his chin skin. I studied Jim’s facial expressions, language and physical behaviors until I got to trust him totally. The only thing I did not like about him was that he was a heavy smoker. The store stank from cigarette smoke, his clothes always smelled smokey, and when we worked closely, his breath smelled of nicotine. His right-hand index finger and thumb were both stained a yellowish brown. I noticed this mostly while playing chess with him. I’ve always wondered why people don’t realize that they are killing themselves slowly by smoking. Life is the slowest way to die, but why hasten it?

There were manuals to read – Some said: workshops to attend, and videos to watch, so that first year was so busy that I had little time for partying and as far as sex was concerned I was a cloistered monk. I’ve been told I’m a handsome guy. I guess I must be because I never had to seek out female companionship. I never had to chase women, but I’ve been so busy that now I’m chaste.

Anyway, to make a long story shorter. During my third year at The Lock Shop, Mr. Tanner got lung cancer and had to close his business. He offered it to me, but I had already been thinking of leaving. Also, I didn’t have the money to buy it, not even enough for a down payment.   Thought I was too young to settle down and own a business. I didn’t want to be tied down to one area of the country. I felt the need to roam again. I visited Jim in the hospital cancer ward because I liked him. To me, he was like a father figure. He understood why I couldn’t buy the business. “Best of luck to an honest and fine worker, Harv.” I was increasingly having strong feelings of stagnation and claustrophobia as if the town were a straight-jacket. I wanted to see different things, do different things, have free days to be spontaneous with my actions and definitely not remain in one town for too long. My locksmith job was the longest time I’ve had one continuous job. Travel was the word that kept repeating itself in my thoughts.

I might want to travel, but how do I earn money to do that traveling? That’s why my very first robbery was the jewelry store that was only a quarter of a mile down the street from The Lock Shop. Why the jewelry store? Because Jim and I, only about six months ago, installed new, but only medium quality locks to the front and back doors, and there was no alarm system. The owners were careless misers.

The jewelry store owners were two cranky, ill-mannered, Goldberg brothers, one always trying to outdo the other in actions and arguments. They complained about the price of the locks, the cost of labor, the wasted time while we installed the locks, and their inconvenience which should earn them a substantial discount. Plus, they both treated us like substandard peasants. They both smoked foul-smelling cigars that made them look like Lassie taking a burning and constipated shit. I disliked how they treated Jim and me, so it was easy to focus on robbing their store.

When Jim informed them that they needed higher quality locks, plus a quality alarm system, they treated him as if he were trying to cheat them. Jim whispered, “The Goldbergs are the type of semi-rich people who will have a hundred thousand dollars in cash at home, and then keep it in a ten-dollar Wal-Mart tin box with a ten-cent lock on it.”

Their new locks were ones that I had been tinkering with in The Shop for a long time, just for fun. I could open them but not the higher-quality locks the Goldberg brothers should have used. So, I cast off the guilt like a winter coat in summertime, planning my very first robbery.

I didn’t intend to steal a large quantity of jewels. I’d take a diamond ring from a collection of diamond rings, I’d skip the Rolex watches and take a lesser quality Swiss or German watches, ones with diamonds, I’d steal a diamond necklace, maybe a ruby or sapphire if it looked moderately valuable, but I mostly stuck to diamonds. Actually, I read that quality rubies are much more rare than diamonds, but diamonds will cost more. I might grab gemstones like that, plus, emeralds and sapphires depending on the worth of their settings.

I wouldn’t be a greedy thief. I would never be making the jewelry heist of the century. I didn’t want to attract attention, nor did I want the jewelers to go out of business. Their insurance would keep them afloat. I’d probably be considered a “third-rate” jewel thief, be ridiculed, forgotten easily, gaining no reputation, but not plundering someone into bankruptcy. That’s exactly what I was aiming for. A low profile, a disrespected thief who’d be easy to forget after a week or two, and no government agencies would get involved because I wouldn’t steal enough for them to look into my robberies, plus once-a-month robberies would put the police to sleep. “Boring. Let’s move on,” they’d say, or “We need to make our quota of catching speeders,” then focus their attention on wife and kid abusers, and pedophiles and removing the homeless panhandlers from their streets, maybe even catching the recreational marijuana users. They would smirk and say, “This guy’s dumb, doesn’t know what he’s doing, and will be caught soon because of his own stupidity and amateur mistakes, etc.” It was a wonderfully convenient profile that I was setting up with my low-key thievery. I was not greedy, only taking a few items at a time, I’d outsmart the law. Being greedy, arrogant, overconfident, and bragging would place me in peril, and so would rob big city jewelers. I’d stick to a small town or village jewelers like the Goldberg who didn’t want the absolute best in security precautions because they felt they lived in Hicksville where jewelry robberies are nearly non-existent. And all I’d carry with me would be a specially made nylon coat with special inside pockets for my small tools and another pocket for the small items stolen.

While at the Goldberg’s jewelry store, I stuffed a diamond information brochure into my pocket. As I folded the brochure I caught a glimpse of the fact that a diamond is fifty-eight times harder than anything you’ll find in nature. Later, I read it in more detail. The brochure explained the four Cs for quality jewelry: Cut, Color, Clarity, and Carat weight. I didn’t realize that the “cut” was the most important of the four Cs because it has the greatest influence on the diamond’s brilliance, thus its value. Then I was shocked to learn that of the four Cs, clarity was considered the least important because the microscopic imperfections are hidden and unseen by the customer’s naked eyes. The shape of the diamond setting also affects the price a lot more than I would have thought. Some shapes like round, cone-shaped sparkle much more than other shapes.

Now I realized that I needed a jeweler’s loupe since I could be looking at two identical diamonds, but one could be worth one thousand dollars due to its imperfections, while the other one could be worth ten thousand dollars due to no imperfections. Holy shit! I thought. Customers would have no idea if they were getting screwed by a dishonest jeweler. Who’s going to buy an engagement ring for the love of their life, then walk out of the store and immediately have it appraised?

I was also surprised at the price difference attributed to a diamond ring’s shape. I figured that I’d learn much more as I robbed jewelry stores and tried to sell the stolen merchandise.  Selling them to those who worried me. One thing at a time, I told myself. Right now I had to focus, concentrate, and test myself to see if I could enter a locked jewelry store and steal jewelry, then exchange the items for cash. Most importantly, can I do that without ending up like a caged monkey? I decided that I needed more time to plan and get over my nervousness, and then I remembered something that Jim had said about solving lock problems. He said, “Don’t overthink a problem. As in chess, plan your first seven moves, then eliminate the last five moves because some unknown, unplanned event will make those moves superfluous. At that time success depends on fast and smart thinking about the situation and circumstances you’re in and put your decision into action.”

I never thought I’d use it for robberies, but at a previous locksmith workshop I met a couple of shady characters. They’d be caught soon because they were all the things I just said not to be, especially being braggarts. Many of the workshops were given over the weekend so the students get to know each other. At a party in their room when everyone was drunk I went into their bedrooms. I found a well-worn business card of a jewelry broker who did business on the dark web. I took a picture of the card. Back home I had to learn about the dark web. Damn, scary stuff goes on under the noses of ordinary Internet users. After a month I was finally skilled enough to contact the broker. This guy wrote that he would have me vetted and be in touch if I checked out. It was a risk because he wanted certain information that could, in the wrong hands, be used to steal my identity. A few days later I got an email from an anonymous server. It was him. I checked out and, from now on, I was to use this anonymous server that can’t be traced back to me or him. I was set up to get rid of my stolen items. He turned out to be a trusted broker. A slight ripple existed, however, when he told me the exchange rate. He would honestly evaluate my merchandise, but I’d only get twenty-five percent of its value. I agreed. I would send the merchandise via UPS or FEDEX, I’d get confirmation and a code number so all I had to do was go to any AMSCOT store, present to code and get paid. It worked great. It was all so easy that it occurred to me that politicians could surely double or triple their wealth secretly this way. They’re the big-time thieves along with the IRS.

When I robbed Goldberg’s jewelry store, I got away with about fifty thousand dollars of jewels, but my payoff was only 12,500 dollars. It

was easy work as long as I was careful and could handle my own guilt about dishonesty. I managed. I wasn’t a big spender, so I always had money, but I didn’t broadcast that fact either. I dressed in ordinary clothes, nice but not lavish, and had a savings account on the Dark Web, but it was a lonely life being a tourist wherever I traveled.  As a kid, I used to love magic tricks, so I thwarted the loneliness of polishing and learning new tricks. I always carried a couple of card magic books. I had The Royal Road to Card Magic by Jean Hugard and Frederick Braue, plus Hugard’s Encyclopedia of Card Tricks. I followed magic on YouTube and other magic trick destinations with my laptop. I usually had Roy Orbison and Johnny Cash playing while I practiced, plus many of the modern country singers like Toby Keith and Shania Twain. I liked the old and the new country music.

At my first few robberies, I learned that the stethoscope was of no use to me. I wasn’t going to waste time attempting to enter a combination-locked vault. What the hell had I been thinking? I didn’t want to be a big-time thief. I didn’t want to be famous or attract anything but the minimum of attention. Small-time robberies are usually ignored by city and town newspapers. Even if they are reported, it’s buried deeply in the paper and given only a few lines of print. My rule and probably a standard among thieves is, get in fast and get out faster.

Information on the Dark Web also included details about diamond sales dishonesty. I found that diamond prices are tremendously inflated due to a company named DeBeers which has a vast monopoly on owning diamond mines. They own ninety percent of the diamond mines in the world, especially in Africa.

From then on I tried to learn about diamond values so that when I robbed a jeweler I could take about 100,000 dollars in diamonds and colored gems so my exchange payment with the Dark Web broker would be about $25,000. During one of my readings, I found it interesting to read about a “carat” when referring to diamonds. This word is used to describe the weight of a diamond, but it’s the origin of the word that was fascinating to me. Ceratonia Silqua, commonly known as the Carob Tree. Each Carob Tree seed is a uniform weight, so when weight scales measuring minute weights didn’t exist, centuries ago, the standard way to weigh diamonds was compare them with the uniform weight of the Carob Tree seeds. Thus the altered name became “carat.”

Eventually, I did what I said not to do. I robbed a big city jewelry store. I had gone into the store looking like a curious customer. I did not see any alarm and was giddy with happiness. But it would have been too obvious if I’d stopped to inspect the door locks. I came back that night. I had trouble with the locks and almost quit, but I was delighted when I heard the thump of the bolt withdrawing into the door frame. I entered the store and almost tripped over the entrance rug. The rug wasn’t there when I entered the store earlier to check out the security.  I had to be fast, so I didn’t give the rug a second thought. I continued quickly to steal the items I had predetermined during my visit. I took a couple of large ruby rings though I quickly focused on the diamond selection. By this time, I had devised a way not to get caught with the diamonds on me. They’d be in me. I placed the diamonds in a small, narrow, cloth bag, then pushed the elongated bag into a condom. I swallowed the condom. Tomorrow the condom would come out during a bowel movement. I remember feeling so damn proud of myself and had grown so cocky, arrogant, and overconfident that I knew I could get away and out of town before the owner could open the store in the morning. I exited through the back door aware of my lip-stretching smile and started walking away when I looked at my watch. It was two in the morning and as quiet as a tomb. Suddenly men appeared on three sides of me. I was surrounded by cops, and my smile turned brittle and seemed to crack like the worst case of chapped lips. How did they know? I was stunned and stood there like an unthinking statue as I was being handcuffed and read my rights. My arrogance melted like a hot candle. It was an awful feeling to realize that you are never, ever, as smart as you think you are. My ego had thought like a volcanic eruption but was only a noiseless fart. I was a deflated balloon.

On the floor, at the entrance to both front and back doors, was a padded pressure-sensitive, silent alarm. The rugs must only be there at night to catch the thief while he’s still busy stealing jewelry. Who the fuck uses pressure-sensitive rugs? This store did and it had a silent alarm connection to the security company it was bought from, and they immediately called the police to check it out. I’d been outwitted because I hadn’t kept up on the latest security devices and this one was so simple. When looking for complex traps, it’s the simple things that you overlook.

I had gotten cocky, overconfident, and tried to rob a bigger city jewelry store instead of doing it in a small town. I got greedy. I wasn’t prepared to defeat the locks easily and had been outsmarted by the newer, silent alarm system, plus, and I could beat myself to death manually for this, I didn’t throw the condom wrapper away as I usually do. The empty wrapper was in my pocket. The male cops at the police station could only think that I had protected sex prior to the robbery, but a woman detective came into the room and immediately heard the whole story accompanied by a room full of laughter. When the room grew quiet, she blurted confidently, “He put the jewelry in a condom and swallowed it. That’s why you can’t find the gems. Drug dealers do that with their ‘mules’ all the time. Good luck to whoever has to monitor his bowel movements and check them to see when he’s shitting those diamonds.” There was a pause as she grinned, then added, “I see that information wiped your shit-eating grins away.”  She turned and walked away as her head kept swiveling right and left as if she didn’t believe how infantile the cops were acting. But before she exited the room, she opened the door, turned around and chuckled, “Perhaps drawing straws will work to decide who’s going to scrape through the guy’s shit. Oh, and don’t be morons. Whoever gets the that crappy job needs to wear latex gloves or else he should not come near me ever again.” Silence dominated the room.

                                                *******

I spent two years of a three-year sentence in a medium-security prison in Groveland, NY, not far from Rochester. There I improved my card manipulation skills. My roommate would smack himself in the head and yell, “WTF, man! How could you do that? I was awarded leniency for my exemplary behavior. I was also teaching interested inmates how to pass their GED tests so they could have a high school equivalency certificate. Most notable, however, was my teaching inmates to read, especially the illegal aliens. It was one of those rare experiences where I could help much more disadvantaged men instead of focusing exclusively on myself. It helped pass the time more quickly, too.

Upon my release, I had to visit my parole officer once a week.  If I were honest about my past, I couldn’t get a regular job. If I were dishonest, no matter how hard I worked, eventually it became known that I had been sent to prison for robbery. My parole officer knew a principal at the Avon Central School who intervened to assist me in getting a grounds-keeping job at the school. It was an unusual job for a convict to be near kids, so I had to agree to wear an ankle bracelet that recorded my every move during the day, plus I had to give the name of any student I came in accidental contact with. The first few months were no problem because I worked with the assistant groundskeeper who showed me what jobs I’d be doing. After a year I was free to go anywhere I wanted, no more parole officer visits, no strict work hours, no worrying about being sent back to prison for that last year of my sentence. It’s not easy to be at your best behavior for a whole year. Avon was a nice town. I thought about settling there, going straight, but I departed quickly, ashamed to show my face in a small town where a majority of the people knew about me.

I hitch-hiked some and wandered some through North Carolina, in a town named Woodbine, about thirty or forty miles from Ashville. I was extremely careful, paranoid, and obsessive with my actions and planning the robberies. I had no other skill. This continued for about eight months during which I robbed five or six stores all over N.C., taking less merchandise of lesser value than before, but I had enough to live on if I didn’t splurge. I passed a large Catholic church one day. The doors were wide open for some reason. Not closed and unlocked, but wide open. I climbed up the marble steps and looked down the aisle between the brightly polished pews. The aisle ended at the pulpit and at the entrance to the altar. I stared at the glittering altar, the gold, silver, the beautiful white marble with a white, lacy covering; the flowers looked fresh. I thought of my youth. I didn’t believe any of the teachings anymore, but even I, an atheist, can see how churches can have a great influence on the minds of impressionable children, especially the minds of children who go to church with their parents every Sunday. As I left I thought, “Live and let live.” The next day I hitchhiked away from N.C.

I tried to treat people well, I was generous to the homeless, absolutely could not stay quiet around my wife and child abusers. Being nice to other people had nothing to do with religion for me. It was simply a decent way to behave with friendship and compassion.  I thought these things as I walked down the street not knowing how far I had walked, when I came to a storefront that looked like a mom-and-pop jewelry store, exactly what I was looking for. Mom and Pop had retired or had died. The former jewelry store was now vacant and dusty. I could see through a dirty window that some floorboards were warping but looked quite smooth. The customers’ shoes must have acted like sandpaper on the floor, for decades, wearing away any protective covering that might have been applied to the original wood.

A sign in the window gave the former owners’ names as Henry and Olivia Tanner, along with their addresses and phone numbers. I called them and found that the store was for rent, lease, or for sale. They owned it but being vacant was a liability to them in their retirement days. I called them on the chance that there were still some jewelries to steal from them, perhaps. Nobody’s perfect. Sometimes being a nice guy is the wrong thing to be, depending on the situation. I have seldom had to turn to violence, but when I do it becomes one hundred percent of me, for a short time.

I was invited to dinner, a nice surprise since the greasy and fattening food of hamburger joints was long past tiresome and distasteful. I was almost always hungry for good, homestyle cooking, though that’s not to say I was always hungry.

I found a daily rental room at a B & B, ate in a nearby diner, and looked for a movie theater, but the town did not have one, so I spent the sunny afternoon in the park reading Ken Kesey’s book, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, an old book from the 1960s that has made its way on most classic book lists. I almost had it completed, but it was time I walked to Tanner’s home for dinner.

The door opened as I was about to knock on it, my hand only contacting air as the door opened. Standing there like a picture of Aphrodite framed by the doorway, I stepped forward as she stepped aside and felt as if I were entering a Greek paradise, her perfume surrounded me as if I were standing in the middle of a summer rose garden. She was standing only two feet away from me, one arm on the doorknob, the other one pointing to the living room. Everything else vanished from my sight, except her. Such lovely scenery wrapped in a small package. I had to force myself to stop staring at her. Then I saw two old people sitting on the couch.

Aphrodite caught up to me and pointed to the elder couple. “This is my grandfather and grandmother, Henry and Olivia Tanner. I’m Elena Tanner, their granddaughter. Then she walked to the couch to sit with her grandparents. I responded, “Hi, I’m Harvey Ellis. I don’t mind being called ‘Harv.’ I sat in a chair opposite them, three sets of eyes staring at me. Introductions are almost always small talk: What’s your last name, where are you from, marital status, employment, and then hints that’ll give you a clue about your age? I was able to answer their questions as my thoughts drifted to Elena. She looked to be in her twenties, like me, with no wedding ring, flirtatious and flattering. I felt as if my vision could not stray from her lovely face, I was her ocular prisoner. I stared into her green eyes and saw golden sparkles. She knew that her eyes were mesmerizing. She knew that there was power in her beauty but did not abuse it as she humbly turned away from me. Then the inner house became visible. That’s how focused I was. There was an awkward pause in the conversation, but Henry, Olivia, and Elena stood up to fill that gap, all smiling. Olivia, with open arms, stepped forward to embrace me, so I stood to meet her. To be accepted so quickly was never in any of my experiences, except for my dad and mom. A scintilla of suspicion appeared as a spark. I extinguished it, not wanting it to grow into a flame. Then Henry’s hand appeared for a handshake. Elena walked to me as her grandparents departed to the kitchen. She stood by my right shoulder looking up at me in what I thought was a genuinely nice way. She led me to the kitchen. I followed her with a wonderful, curvaceous view.

I immediately forgot about the diamonds that may be in their home and accessible to me. They didn’t seem as valuable to me now compared to the exceptional welcoming I received. We sat at the kitchen table. Before dinner was served, business became the item of conversation. I really had no intention of renting their store. I was there for a free dinner, and only wanted information about diamonds or other rare gems. I had put that aside to return the friendship that had impressed me. When Olivia and Elena got up to serve dinner, Henry whispered, “How old are you?” Then he placed his right index finger against his lip and made the sound, “Shhh.”

The venison stew was the best I’d ever had. I didn’t even know it was deer meat until after dinner when Olivia said, “Henry hunts only during deer season.” The stew was combined with homemade bread, butter, milk, and blueberry pie topped with vanilla ice cream. I patted my stomach with delight. “Olivia. That was the best dinner I’ve had in years. Thank you so much for your kindness.”

“I made the stew, but the bread and pie were made by Elena.”

I smiled at Elena.

“Are you surprised that I could cook?” Elena teased.

“I am. I hate to admit it, but I usually associate good cooking with elderly ladies. My bad. Please forgive me and accept my sincere apologies along with a sincere compliment on your baking.”

Henry cleared his throat which gained our attention.

“Are you thinking about settling down here? Are you interested in starting a business in our vacant store?

I felt as if someone had turned on a spotlight and it was focused entirely on me, leaving everyone else in shadow. My face got warm, but I don’t know if it showed. I calmed myself, then cleared my throat. “Well,” I uttered, hesitantly, “I’ve been traveling for a few years, going from town to town, not staying long, just taking in the local scenery, goodwill, and listening to folks talk about their town’s history. It’s usually fascinating and if it’s fascinating enough I stay for a day or two longer. Maybe visit the public library.”

Elena asked, “What is your business? I hope you aren’t a boring salesman or realtor.” When she blinked her eyes it seemed as if she winked at me. I thought, “Flattery with get you all of me.” It had been a long time since I had sex or made love, depending on the deepness of the romantic feelings. I could feel my growing tumescence as the crotch of my pants felt as if they had shrunk.  It embarrassed me enough to be grateful that I was sitting at a table, hidden from the waist downward. I continued, “Currently, I’m living off a small inheritance from my mom and dad. They died in an automobile crash on the way to my high school graduation.”

“Oh, how terrible,” Olivia remarked, holding an age-spotted, wrinkled-skinned hand over her heart. I saw her eyes mist and saw how sensitive she was. I glanced at Elena. She looked shocked, with her hand over her mouth. I didn’t find out till later that her parents died the same way, only she was much younger and had to start living with Henry and Olivia.

“Would you like to explore options on the storefront? If you do, please contact us. If we aren’t at home, which is rare since we’re retired, then go to Elena’s clothing store on Perry Street. Elena owns her own business. She’s almost always there since she’s also the salesperson, except for the rush for new clothes just before school starts and at Christmas time.”

“Yes, and you could wear a new shirt and pants, but the old shoes I can’t help you with. Mr. Seers, at the shoe store can help you with that,” Elena interrupted. My eyes were drawn to her.

She blinked, or winked, as she teased me.

“Would you postpone your carefree travels for a while and stay in town?” Henry requested. You can come for dinner each evening so we can get to know each other better.”

“Possibly,” is all I could say definitively.

Elena asked, “May I ask where you are staying?”

“I’m staying at Mrs. Darmer’s Bed and Breakfast, on a day-to-day basis.”

“Good. She tries hard to make the B and B work. Her husband, Charles, died a few years ago. She’s nice enough, but you’ll be glad to only eat breakfast there. She has, for years, had a reputation as a terrible cook. She’s an exception to your theory about older cooks. When Charlie died of a heart attack, the town humorists said he died from a fatal bout of indigestion or heartburn,” Henry said, haltingly, as Olivia looked at him with displeasure, then added, “Enough of that, Henry.” Then to Harvey, “Please stay for a little while and come to dinner each evening at six. You’ll get a good dinner and the four of us can converse. Maybe even relax in the parlor with dessert. Did you like the stew and the fresh, plump blueberry pie, Harvey?”

“I sure did,” I said, patting my chest. I smiled, “I feel a heart attack coming.” It was a risk being humorous just after talking about Charlie, but I relaxed as the others laughed with me.

“Now you behave yourself, too, Harvey.” She shook her head and said, “Men?” Olivia looked at Henry and Harvey. Her smile lingered, then twisted a bit as if to get even with Henry for his remarks about Charlie. Henry looked up at her, unintimidated, and returned her smile with an exaggerated, lip-stretched smile.  They stared at each other like Generals of the same rank.

I saw these silent communications and quickly uttered, “How nice that would be. I’m grateful for the generosity especially since you said, ‘the four of us.’” I didn’t look at Elena, but I sensed her looking up at me, though whether it was a smile or a frown I couldn’t tell.

                                                *******

Thus, it turned out to be a much longer stay than I had originally intended. There was no jewelry store to rob, but I did find three people who were diamonds, two of them were in the rough, and one was cut exactly as I liked and with an added sparkling brilliance. The Blue Nile Company or the James Allen Company trusted gemologists all over the world, would have wanted a million dollars for this curvy gem named Elena Tanner.

Speaking of universally trusted jewel sellers, Henry informed me that the Blue Nile Company carries a vast diversity of colored gems (rubies, emeralds, sapphires). But as for diamonds and settings, it’s not as diverse, yet what they do sell is of superb quality. The James Allen Company, however, is the king of the hill when it comes to engagement rings. It’s selection of diamonds is vast, but its colored gem selection is not as diverse as it is with Blue Nile. These two companies are the largest established brands for diamond and colored gem sales.

Elena and I started dating the following week. She had broken up with her boyfriend months ago, and I wondered why but was not stupid enough to ask. Her pleasant demeanor and beauty diverted my mind and helped me stay calm as my natural restlessness and worry about who may be hunting for me never really goes away completely. Moving always puts me ahead of any hunters. Staying in this village, however, was like a deer standing immobile during deer hunting season. But I did manage to relax, especially with romance constantly diverting my thoughts and replacing worry with pleasure. I’ve wondered what true love was for years and if I would ever find it. I just did. I fell in love with Elena and she was with me. It was delightful being with her.

I thought about advancing our romance, but I would need to leave my criminal career and earn an honest living. The vacant store almost always came up in conversation. I convinced myself that I could have a pleasant life in this village, so made a deal with Henry and Olivia to rent the store to make a locksmith’s shop, maybe combine it with a hardware store which would bring in much more income. But that was only if this romance came to fruition with a wedding, then kids, then a house mortgage. This thought almost scared me away when a cold icicle of doubt ran up and down the length of my spine. But I reasoned with myself that if I stayed with my unstable life of crime, I would eventually get caught. Then wife, family, and home would all be lost. I had to end my criminal past, and I did.

Henry pulled me aside one day and suggested a better idea for the store. He said I should open a jewelry store like he and Olivia had had for nearly forty years. It had occurred to me that I could easily do that, but my thoughts veered away from that direction due to my past as a diamond thief. Would it make it easier for a detective or private investigator to find me? I decided to risk it, my whole future was now blended with Elena and her grandparents.

Immediately following those thoughts came the agonizing decision to tell Elena. Would she still love me? Would I have to leave all these wonderful thoughts of the future behind and keep hoping I’d always be a step ahead of the hunter, if there was a hunter? I had no idea if I was being searched for by the law, or a private investigator. I’d seen no evidence of either one, but it was a jagged pebble of guilt in the back of my mind, constantly poking, irritating, constantly reminding me of consequences, constantly keeping me in motion, and constantly growing in size. I wanted to be a coward and not tell Elena, but that wasn’t right, it wasn’t honest, it would be like basing our marriage on a foundation over quicksand. The painful truth must be told if I’m to start a new life.

That evening we sat on her grandparents’ porch, they in their old-fashioned rocking chairs, while Elena and I sat in the double swing chair. Like those chairs, my mind went back and forth about my decision to tell Elena about my past. The swing chair squealed from dryness. It irritated me and Elena noticed. She touched her feet to the floor and stopped the swinging, then looked at me questioningly as if to say, What’s the matter? I could feel her warmth as she moved closer to me until our shoulders and arms touched. I grew less agitated by the decision that I had to make.

The sun set; soon it grew darker. Henry and Olivia went inside the house. Elena and I stayed on the porch. Elena remarked, “You’ve been acting strangely all evening, almost avoiding me. Are you troubled about our engagement to be married? Please be honest with me. I don’t want to be engaged to another troubled man.”

“I love you, Elena, like I’ve never loved anyone else. You gift me with your love, loyalty, and concern, . . . but I’m not the person you think I might be. You only know my early youth and from the day I arrived. There’s a big, embarrassing, and guilty gap there, actually, it’s not a simple gap, but a large chasm.” I couldn’t look her in the eye, my cowardly reaction to the acceptance of my undesirable character flaw.

“I don’t want a secret like that to stand between us and our marriage.”

“OK. Here’s my terrible past, wrapped up in a briefcase. I’m a criminal, Elena. I go from town to town and rob inadequately secured jewelry stores. I steal diamonds mostly, but other valuable gems and jewelry items, too. I came here to rob your grandparents' jewelry store. I didn’t know them or that it was closed…”

Elena snapped, “You’re a thief? You would have robbed Henry and Olivia? What are…”

“Please Elena, let me finish. I want to quit and lead a normal life. I want you to be my wife and mother of our children. I want to have a normal, honest job to support our family, I just never had a reason to stop until I met you and your grandparents. I know it’s awful news. You need to …..”

I didn’t finish my sentence when Elena began crying. She stood and walked away from me, head held low, a fountain of tears glistening while making a path down her cheeks, the porch light turning them into teardrop diamonds.

I stood and followed her into the house. It wasn’t her job to bring such bad news to her beloved grandparents. It was my job, so I did it. I felt like a foul and massive pile of shit when I departed.

                                                *******

The next morning, I didn’t want to get up from bed. I didn’t want to remember the night before. I covered my head with a pillow, pressed it down, and tried to get back to sleep, until the pillow had come to life and was smothering me. That’s how it felt and something which I deserved. I got up, shaved, showered, and started packing what little I had, always traveling light, a hobo with slightly better clothes, a reprobate, rogue, rascal, scoundrel, villain. I ran out of synonyms for myself and continued packing. Mrs. Darmer knocked on my door. Had she heard already? Is she kicking me out? Did she call the police? I’m fucked! I thought. But she just announced that I had a guest.

“Yeah,” I muttered not meeting her eyes as my own moistened. I thought, “What a monstrous freak I’ve been to these nice people. I’ll leave town quickly, find another nice town to settle down and get an honest job. No more criminal activity for me. Time to grow up.”

Henry appeared in the doorway of my room. I stopped packing to face him. “Please come in Henry.” All I could do was look at him and weakly say, “I’m sorry for all my deceptions. I’ll be leaving town soon. I won’t cause any more trouble for your family.”

“Yes, son. You are a bit of a rascal, but Elena and Olivia love you. You’re a charmer. A deceitful charmer, son? Was your kind, wonderful boy routine a lie?”

“No sir. It certainly wasn’t. I never had anyone treat me as valuable and special as Fort Knox. I have just felt that in this town, especially in your home. I’m so sorry, Henry. But I would like you to know that when I leave I’ll lead a normal, honest life. I’ll get a job and stay far away from what I was in the past. I mean that. I’ve learned that consequences eventually catch up to a criminal.”

“Is that an iron-clad guarantee, son?”

“It is, Henry, but if you ever hear of me being in the jewelry store business, I want you to know that I’ll run an honest business and I’ll try to repay for my past by helping out whichever town that accepts me as a welcomed citizen.”

I had been packing during our discussions and it was completed. I picked up the bag and walked towards the doorway, saying, “Thank you, Henry. Give my best to Olivia and Elena.”

I took a few steps down the hallway when I heard, “Where are you goin’, son? You can’t be my son-in-law if you leave town. Put the bag back in your room and come to dinner. We’ll hash it out, the four of us. OK? We didn’t get much sleep last night with your revelation in our minds. But we agreed. You be honest, and kind, especially to Elena then we want you to stay. I’ll help you get started with the town’s new jewelry store. Agreed?”

Now the moisture turned to plump tear droplets that poured down my lower eyelids. I stood there, dropped the bag placed both hands over my eyes, and cried, probably making wimpy sounds, but I didn’t care. I wanted a new life and Henry just offered it to me. I was like being bankrupt one minute and a millionaire the next minute. I walked up to him and wrapped him in my arms saying, “Thank you,” repetitively. I could feel his warm hand patting me on my lower back. We let go and stood face to face, both of us happy. Henry said, “We are understanding people. You see Olivia and I used to be somewhat like a small-time Bonnie and Clyde. It was the deaths of Elena’s parents that set us on a straight and narrow life. Elena is unaware of that. It’s a secret you can not divulge, ever. Also, I have a lawyer friend. I advise you to see him to change your name. If you are using your real name, then stop. I suggest you change it to Tanner. You’ll be Harvey and Elena Tanner. That’ll make it a mighty maze for someone to solve to find you.” He continued down the hallway, giggling, then said, “You just might make a great son-in-law yet, Harvey.” I stared at his back as he walked, and thought, “I’ll be a son of a bitch. Do they have a somewhat criminal past? Is that what he was hinting at?”

As good as his word, Henry, and sometimes Olivia, too, helped me get started with starting a jewelry store. The coincidence surprised me as I progressed from a jewelry store robber to a jewelry store owner. I knew a great deal about diamonds and some other gems but standing on the wrong side of the sales counter took some getting used to, but the humor and irony of it brought a sadistic but welcomed pleasure. I hoped that this could be my home.

Henry became my mentor. I was trying to learn a lot in a short period. While we worked on remodeling the vacant store, we talked. He did most of the talking in the form of teaching. He informed me that the DeBeers Co. has warehouses full of diamonds. If all of them were released to the diamond retailers it would flood the world’s diamond market and lower the price of diamonds so low that you could win cheap carnival jewelry with diamonds in it. Once upon a time, diamonds were rare, geologically, but no longer. But now, with modernized mining machinery they are actually quite plentiful, just not released to retailers in quantity. Most are kept in storage vaults all over the world by DeBeers, the company has a vast cartel monopoly on diamonds which makes it easy for them to inflate their diamond prices far beyond their actual value. Henry continued saying that DeBeers didn’t get where they were by being stupid. What they did and still do is flood countries with an average of two hundred million dollars in advertising that equates diamonds with romance, pride, power, and status. They struck it rich (billions of dollars rich) with this romance angle of advertising. I had no idea that diamonds are no longer rare, but that supplies are tightly controlled to keep the prices artificially high. Henry showed me one of their brochures of modern advertisements. On the front vivid and colorful page there was a modern picture of the first diamond known to be given as an engagement ring. That was in 1477 when the Austrian Archduke Maximillian proposed to Mary of Burgandy with a diamond ring. The picture reflects what someone thought the era might look like, a horse-drawn carriage, white wigs, fluffy, loose effeminate men’s clothing, and parachute dresses for upper-class women. Henry said, “If you seriously think about it, this whole world is full of one person or one group of persons and parents indoctrinating their beliefs into pliant minds. In this case, it is DeBeers that is extraordinarily successful with their indoctrinating advertisements that make diamonds seem rare and romantic. Diamonds may be considered romantic, but how many people in the world think diamonds are rare and that’s the reason for the outlandish prices? But I can’t complain too strongly about it because Olivia and I made a good living off this false belief. And you know what? Never, in forty years, has anyone come to my jewelry store and asked if diamonds are rare. They all swallowed what DeBeers and all their diamond distributors wanted them to believe. I never minded their foolishness if they were happy with it.”

I told Henry and Olivia that I wanted to propose to Elena. They took me aside with a great idea. We sat at their kitchen table for lunch (Elena did not come home for lunch) as they had me read an article by Professor Wuzong Zhou, a chemist at the University of St. Andrews, Scotland, who stated that in one candle flame, there are a million diamond nanoparticles in the flame. Proposing while at a candlelight dinner would make an amazingly romantic way to propose to Elena. It worked, too, and my reward was fantastic, pleasurably exhausting, too.

The weeks passed quickly as we all worked in the store. It was dirty, sweaty, and tiring work, but finally, we could see the light at the end of the tunnel. The tunnel of love for Elena and me. The store was shaping up nicely, but I would not want to show a wonderful diamond with my battered, blistered, splintered, cut hands. Luckily, it would still be a few weeks before the store could open. Thank goodness for Henry. He used his contacts to get our first diamonds and gems for sale. They were waiting for us in his bank safety deposit box.

Two weeks before the store opened, Elena and I were married, but no honeymoon. Henry, Olivia, and I spent the time happily working at the store, though I’d only allow them to work until lunchtime. I was thinking of their health. They treated me as a son and trusted me as a trusted renter of their store, especially with what I’d be selling. They showed me by actions that they wanted me for their son-in-law, as well as a husband to Elena and, I could tell by their eyes that they desired grandchildren. My pleasure, I thought.

There was unused space on the second story of the jewelry store. Henry planned to fix it into an apartment and rent it, but that never happened. Always too busy or tired he told me. Henry loaned us the money to turn the second story into a small apartment until we got the business going and could afford a house. Elena often needed help in her clothing store. That’s because, two months into our marriage she was pregnant. One night, after dinner, I was sent to the living room alone. I smiled because I knew why. Then cheerful giggles escaped the confines of the kitchen, and I knew then that Elena had told her grandparents that she was pregnant. I grinned happily at our situation. Family was important to me now.

Living above the jewelry store was wonderfully convenient. I settled into the role of husband and store owner so easily that I thought it was a pleasant dream, and I would soon wake up disappointed. It didn’t happen. We were all splendidly happy together.

Eight months later we had a daughter that we named Lily. Elena was so attached and loved Lily so much that she sold her business to stay at home with her. We paid Henry and Olivia immediately for the store start-up money that they had loaned to us. The new jewelry business was now providing for us quite well. House hunting was on the horizon, but surprise, surprise. We postponed our house-buying idea because, when Lily was two years old, Elena was pregnant again. It was a boy whom we named Slone.

Two years later, with a lot of hard work and long days, we had a profitable business.  Henry’s good advice and knowledge, plus my determination, the business would soon thrive shortly. I didn’t sell at ridiculous markup prices. I had to have profit, sure, but profit was attained from increased business and a varied selection of moderately priced jewels, especially some gems that Henry and Olivia never tried to sell. They went with what attracted older customers, whereas I went with half-old and half-modern jewelry. The modern jewelry was a hit with the younger folks. We started to get out-of-town customers, too, once the word about our store got around.

As the months and years went on, I helped raise money for the town’s new playground, followed a year later by a movie theater, both of which contributed to decreasing youth mischievousness. Then came an addition to the local library in which I also had a leading role but would end soon. Elena and I were both relieved because then all of the after-work hours would end. Then I could be a normal husband and father at home during the evenings. The fundraising was worth it since the town was growing, according to the school attendance records. I needed to spend more time with my family. With Slone being three years old and Lily being five,  they both needed to see more of their father.

Two years later I was elected to the town’s mayor position. All was going splendidly. Lily was in first grade now, and in one more year Slone would be in kindergarten.

I’d been in town for about seven years when I was accepted as a trusted and responsible member of the community. I was a member of the Moose Lodge and of the Elks Lodge and, through them, had acquired many more friends with added respect and trust. When asked to run for president of the Elk’s Lodge, I had to turn them down due to work, but my choice was accepted with friendliness and understanding.

Henry and I were having a beer and relaxing at the Moose Club one evening. Of course, the subject of business came up, in particular the DeBeers Diamond Mining Company. Henry said, “As long as we’re drinking beer, let me talk about the DeBeers Company.” He emphasized the ‘Beer’ in DeBeers. “It’s a troublesome outfit. Do not buy anything from their mines.”

“Why is that? I know that they have a vast amount of diamonds, so the selection would be the best in the world, wouldn’t it?”

“Let me lecture you a little bit, son. DeBeers, a company whose products signify love, especially with engagement rings, has left a significant pool of bloodshed and controversy in Africa, where most of its mines are. They have been banned from selling diamonds in the U.S. And listen to this, DeBeers has been banned from selling in the U.S. because of its cartel-like monopoly and its price-fixing court cases. Have you ever heard of a blood diamond?”

“Is it a diamond that’s almost as red as a ruby? I’ve never seen one of them in any jewelry store, though.”

“No, son. It’s a diamond mines area of armed conflict where diamonds are sold illegally to finance the fighting. You understand? DeBeers? Africa? It’s a ‘conflict diamond’ from places in Africa where much blood is being spilled by warring groups. That’s what a ‘blood diamond’ is. My advice is to start buying non-conflict diamonds from Canada. They have increased the number of their diamond mines every year. Soon they’ll be in the top four or five diamond sellers around the world, though I doubt they catch up to the DeBeers Company with its monopoly on the world market. The batch I bought for the store came from Canadian diamond mines.”

When I got home that evening, our fast-growing children were already in bed. After I visited them and kissed them, I went to Elena and sat on the couch with her. We reminisced about how far we had come and what a bright future we had waiting for us. Elena glowed like the sun on a daisy field in springtime. She was more beautiful each day, Lily too. I wondered about Slone. Would he look much like me? At present, he didn’t look significantly like either of us.

Well, that pleasant dream-like feeling ended when a private investigator was hired to review ‘cold cases’ by an insurance company. He succeeded where so many others had failed because he was highly intelligent and didn’t know what the word ‘quit’ meant, his reward must have been great to have spent so much time finding me, even though the trail must have been cold and daunting. A considerate follow, he was, too, in coming to the jewelry store when no one was around to overhear us. He, of course, confronted me with the evidence and the facts of my case. His name was Aaron Johnstone, a likable guy with handcuffs hooked to his belt and a gun in a shoulder holster. When we shook hands at the introduction I felt as if I’d placed my hand into a grizzly bear’s massive paw, a baseball into a catcher’s mitt. Then I heard the words that I didn’t want to hear, that I’d been fearful of for years wondering when those words would confront me. “You know that I must report to law enforcement and the insurance companies that I found you, Mr. Tanner.”

“I understand,” I said dejectedly, my mood fell rapidly to the center of the earth, into a vast pit of molten lava. I’ve wondered for years if my past would ever catch up to me. Now it has, so it’s time to come clean. It’s a tremendous boulder of guilt off my shoulders, though my good, crime-free life in this town had been more happy than I ever expected.

“You know it took years and several private investigators from the insurance companies to find you. I almost quit myself until I overheard a conversation about a new, really young fellow who opened a jewelry store in a nearby town named Woodbine. This young fellow did card tricks for the children and adults. I read your prison record before I started this hunt. I remember a tiny notation that said, He does card magic. If not for that fortuitous conversation with the mention of card magic tricks, by total strangers, in a restaurant, I never would have found you, even though I was in Ashville, relatively close to you, but with no further leads to follow. You had covered your trail quite nicely, especially settling in a small town. I probably would have never guessed, like the others, that you would settle in a small town instead of a roaming through bigger cities that offered many jewelry stores to rob.

“I know you are now married; have a lovely daughter and a handsome son. I feel bad about that as a family man myself. But I find the ultimate irony, one which I would have overlooked as absurd, was you being the owner of a jewelry store. But legally changing your name to Tanner was a brilliant move. All this maneuvering made you disappear, but I’m known for my indomitable spirit.”

“Mr. aah . . .”

“Johnstone. Aaron Johnstone.”

“Mr. Johnstone, would it be too much to ask for one day to be with my family and prepare for my arrest and transfer to wherever we need to go?”

“Sure. You certainly won’t be running away from your wife, daughter, and son. From what little I’ve seen you have completely turned your life around, a rare self-reformation. You know, you aren’t the only one who’s guilty. Technically, I’m a bounty hunter, a hated fellow in the Old West. I don’t have good feelings about it, but I’m good at it and the rewards make it desirable for me. But I also have unsavory deeds that will eventually catch up to me, though they are not as serious as yours. But in my business, it is often a platitude that the law may catch a criminal slowly, but a criminal can catch another criminal quickly.” He winked sending me a subtle message.

“If you want to go as quietly and calmly as possible, meet me at the bus station parking lot where I parked my car. Meet me in the morning at six. We’ll leave early when no one is around. Please don’t make your life worse by running away. I certainly don’t trust many fugitives like this. I won’t handcuff you in front of your family if you guarantee your arrival and cooperation.”

“You have it. Guaranteed.”

“Please be aware that if you do run, law enforcement will raid your town, even the FBI since you committed several non-violent felonies. They will make a physical and mental mess of your community as they search for you. That will make it almost impossible for your family to survive in this community of friends.”

“I’ll be there, Aaron. That’s a guarantee.”

“Great. I have a family, too. Got me a five-year-old boy. Named him Timothy after my dad. As far as I can tell there’s nothing more important than family. See you tomorrow morning. Oh, and I’m driving the spacious gold-colored Cadillac. It’ll probably be the only car in the deserted bus station parking lot. See you in the morning, Mr. Ellis.” He gave a restrained smile, turned, and walked toward town, probably to Martha’s diner and the motel adjacent to the diner.

                                                *******

When I arrived home, Elena saw by my expression and body language that I was extremely upset. Luckily, Lily was playing with Slone in the living room. I sat at the kitchen table, Elena came quickly and sat opposite me. When I first explained everything to Elena she was shocked and acted doomed. It looked like her entire facial skin sagged, her eyelids nearly closed, the corners of her lips dropped downward, closer to her chin and she looked thirty years older. My secret life had a disfiguring effect on her face, as if her face had just traveled thirty years, down a rutted dirt road and into the future. After I explained the major facts and events I started to add the minor details, but she stopped me.

“Call Grandpa fast,” she blurted and then sat frozen to her chair.

Immediately I called. “Henry, I’m in trouble. Elena said to call you for advice. My situation is too complex and convoluted to explain over the phone. Will you and Olivia come to our apartment as soon as possible?”

Henry heard the desperation in my voice. He wanted to talk to Elena, but she wasn’t able. I told Henry that Elena was almost incoherent. “Come now, please.” I ended the conversation and sat by Elena, arm around her shoulder. She felt cold, clammy and her half-closed eyelids dripped a steady flow of tears down her cheeks to her chin, then dripped like a pearly waterfall onto her bosom. I wanted to die, I felt so bad, but I simply cried quietly with her. She never looked up at me, but she did whisper, through moist lips, “Henry will help.” I handed her a wad of tissues to wipe away the flow of mucus from her upper lip. She reacted sluggishly.

It didn’t take long for Henry and Olivia to arrive. After greeting Elena and me they sat at the kitchen table with us. “Explain every damn thing you can remember. Details matter, son.”

As I waded through a muddy review of my past, Henry sat like a boulder, solid, and unmovable but with a keen mind and eyes that flashed understanding. Olivia took Elena’s hands in hers to comfort her. Henry blinked sharply, squeezing his eyelids shut for a second, when I mentioned Aaron Johnstone. He rubbed his eye which seemed to have something in it. Maybe an eyelash. His face had a severe look to it, but when he asked, “Johnstone” I guessed that he knew the guy. How? I felt so grateful that he and Olivia weren’t screaming at me. Elena was quiet, in a daze.

Olivia had moved her chair even closer to sit shoulder to shoulder with Elena, hoping to console her trauma. Trauma that was my doing, my fault, my sin against our happiness. Elena finally broke down and cried loudly on Olivia’s shoulder. Olivia hugged her closely. Both ladies were surprisingly brave, no tantrums or rage but sadness cloaked all of us like a shroud of black plague. With a reddened face, embarrassment, and the feeling that my legs had been cut out from under me, I revealed, in a half hour, all the major points and as much detail as I could remember. Henry’s eyes and my eyes were glued to each other. I unloaded my life of crime on him while he sifted through it and discarded the chaff but focused on the seeds of my criminality. I could see the strain in his eyes, the stress wrinkled his face much more than it already was due to age. Henry and Olivia were old now, almost frail and they had a criminal for their son-in-law. I felt as if I were shrinking, being made less of a man.

When I was finished everyone stayed at the kitchen table, unnervingly quiet, heads down, heads twisting back and forth as if to say, “No.” Elena still hugged Olivia as she whimpered. Luckily, Olivia had taken charge and put Lily and Slone to bed. In twenty minutes, Olivia checked on them. They were sleeping soundly, which was a blessing for the situation in which we found ourselves.  In my quiet grief, I found myself thinking of Robert Frost’s poem, The Road Not Taken. It is a poem that has traveled with me for years, haunted me for years, reprimanded me for years, and yet, it was one of my favorite poems. How easy it is to take the wrong path. Then I thought the wrong path led to Elena, Henry, and Olivia. Was it the wrong path? Sure, it was, but the wrong path happened to bring great results. Can my continuous and honest service to the community offer some forgiveness? What kind of forgiveness could I expect? My honest answer was “none.” I fouled my bed, now I must sleep in it.

Olivia looked at me, not with hatred but with genuine concern. It acted as a salve on my burning feeling of guilt. My skin felt as if it were about to blister. In the silence, Henry excused himself and went to the bathroom. I could picture him vomiting. He was so upset that I heard him mumbling to himself as if he were having a conversation with himself. I became aware that I was silently talking to myself, like Henry, repeated to myself, “WTF. What a sinister mess I’ve made.” As Henry came out of the bathroom he called me into the living room so we could talk privately. Elena objected, but Olivia calmed her and let her know that we men needed to talk over some issues that they would learn later. Elena asked her mom if she could stay with her. “Of course, darling,” was the reply.

No one but Lily and Slone slept that night. We adults were all too tense, agitated, and worried. At four in the morning, I got up, went to the kitchen, and made coffee. Elena came to the kitchen ten minutes later, followed by Henry and Olivia, all of us in assorted pajamas with Elena and Olivia also wearing light robes. Of course, Elena and I had put on some more traditional pajamas, ones that didn’t show so much flesh. But it was a weird sight. It was as if we were all children at heart just waiting for Santa to come down the chimney and leave a load of colorfully wrapped presents. All that was missing was the plate of cookies for Santa to snack on and a bunch of carrots for the reindeer. At first, we sat quietly and drank our coffee, Henry liked it black and strong, and Olivia added water to dilute it but still drank it black. Elena and I used vanilla creamer.

The town’s citizens became the next topic. What to say to the curious ones, the nosey ones, the genuinely concerned ones? But there was only one good answer. Be honest with them, expect the worst while hoping for the best. Platitudes suck, I thought.

We decided that when I was taken away to do my prison time, Henry and Olivia would babysit Lily and Slone, although a babysitter may need to be hired due to the grandparents’ age. Elena would have to run the jewelry store with occasional assistance from Henry. So many decisions had to be made. It seemed like Occam’s Razor was needed, the simplest explanation or solution and one with the fewest assumptions is, most likely, the best choice. But as bad as I felt maybe I should use Occam’s Razor to slit my wrists. But the simplest solution or explanation is not always the best. Sometimes it’s just simple-minded.

When the discussion turned to what to tell the children, I felt sick and almost ran to the bathroom to vomit in the toilet bowl. Somehow I controlled the nausea though an awful stomach acid taste lingered. We can’t say I died, nor that I went on a long vacation or business trip. All options leaned toward concealment and evasion, but they were ridiculous, Using Occam’s Razor, the simplest and best choice is honesty. We all agreed that with the children, honesty had to be mild. Olivia said she’d do the talking because Elena said she couldn’t do it. Elena said she’d make Lily and Slone upset while she was terribly upset herself and wouldn’t be able to be calm.

Last time I got a three-year prison sentence but was out of prison for two years due to my exemplary behavior. When I get out this time, what then? I certainly would not be given a parade for the town’s returning criminals, especially the one who ran the jewelry store. Nobody would buy jewels from us, and Henry and Olivia’s good reputations would be ruined. My family would have to move away. The town’s hostility would be too much for me, Elena, and the kids, especially for Lily who was nearly school-age.

My sweet Lily was curious about everything. She had non-stop questions and sometimes asked more than one question at a time. One day, as Elena and I sat on the couch watching TV, Lily ran to Elena and said, “What’s this?” She pointed to the indentation in the middle of her upper lip. Elena answered, “The real name for that is philtrum. Sounds just like it’s spelled, ‘phil-trum.’”

“I didn’t know that. How did you know?”

“As a pre-teen and a teenager while I was learning how to apply make-up.”

“But, what’s it do? What’s ‘make-up?” Lily continued.

“I don’t know if it does anything, Honey. People just have them.”

“That’s silly.”

Elena shocked me when she went on to tell a story. “You see Lily, when unborn babies are in their mother’s tummy, they know all the secrets of the world, but when they are born their guardian angel comes to the baby. The angel gently presses her index finger on the middle of the baby’s upper lip, under the nose. The angel takes away all those secrets of the world that only God should know. Where the angel pressed her finger is where everybody’s philtrum is. The skin is pressed down, and the skin stays that way. And when someone puts their index finger over their lips and under their nose, they are telling someone else to, ‘be quiet’ or to ‘keep something a secret.’”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Lily said with a pleasant smile. Then, “The angels are pretty smart, aren’t they?”

“They are super smart, Lily.”

“Can I tell Slone what the angel does?”

“Try it and see what he says.”

Lily ran, excitedly, to the playroom to tell Slone the angel story.

                                                *******

Time dragged on like a ten-ton dinosaur splashing through a deep, muddy swamp. It was a happy but impatient time having to wait. It must be what kids feel when they are experiencing excitement and impatience on Christmas Eve.

Henry acted especially nervous and upset. It was as if he asked God for a miracle and was waiting for it to happen. He had his phone in his hand making a telephone call, but no one answered. We all looked at him wondering what that was about.

At five-forty-five in the morning, I departed my home after giving kisses, hugs, then more kisses and a hug to a tearful Elena. I’d already expressed my wish to be alone when I walked to the bus station. I didn’t want to wake up my precious children. I cut the agony of ‘good-byes’ short and walked out the door with my clothes and shaving items in a duffel bag. Before I closed the door, I caught a glimpse of Henry and Olivia holding onto Elena to stop her from chasing me. I do not have words to express the guilt, shame, and unrelenting agony that I felt.

Little things can leave such a huge impression when their consequences find you. That’s what happened when the door closed. The sound was explosive to my ears like a shotgun had been fired from a few feet away. My ears rang. All in my imagination but it seemed as real as the coming sunrise. For a while, my life would be the sound of doors and gates closing. I vomited onto someone’s lawn as I walked.

When I reached the bus station parking lot, Aaron was nowhere in sight, and neither was his car. The early morning ticket seller approached me and handed me an envelope. I saw my name printed on it. It was sealed and with clear tape over the flap for extra security from probing eyes. I opened it with trepidation. I felt hot, perspiration beaded my forehead.

Dear Mr. Ellis,

          After talking to as many townspeople as I could after we parted company yesterday, I realized that I had made a mistake with my accusations against you. This community seems to adore you. I also received a telephone call from a long-lost friend who highly praised you. A man like you, who is adored, and respected, was past mayor and a community leader, who organizes fundraisers for the town’s development obviously can’t be the man I’m looking for. There has been an unfortunate mistake in the paperwork. So, my search is over. Another dead-end.

          Please forgive my mistake. Best wishes. Aaron Johnstone.

          Best wishes to Henry and Olivia, also.

I thought, “Holy shit! Henry and Olivia knew Aaron from decades ago. Aaron must have owed Henry and Olivia an extremely large favor in order not to take me into custody. Aaron must have been hesitant about returning the debt, so Henry and Olivia didn’t know Aaron’s final decision on the matter. Was that it? I asked myself. Something as seemingly simple as repaying a huge favor saved my life, allowing me to continue with my honest work and a loving family. I never asked Henry to explain. He would say that God intervened. However, it happened, right now I feel like the luckiest man in the world.