Part 3 — Behind the Back Wall
The hinge swung open with a faint squeak, and Burl shined his flashlight into the dark space behind the false panel.
Wrapped in a folded shop rag was a bundle the size of a loaf of bread, tied with kitchen twine.
My hands were shaking too hard to untie it. Burl did it for me.
There were savings bonds, fifty-two of them, each in my name and Walt. There was a passbook from the Lancaster County credit union showing sixty-four thousand dollars. And on top lay a sealed envelope with two words in his big square printing. “For Joan.”
I read it on the basement steps with Tammy beside me.
“Joan, the box up top was for show. The real savings are behind it. I put them here because I knew Doug would come looking. I did not want you to carry any more than you had to. I love you, and I put my socks away.”
Tammy put her head on my shoulder. Upstairs, Doug was sitting at the table in Walt chair, staring at his plate.
Walt had counted that top drawer every night for thirty-five years so that no one would ever look behind it, and the only person who really looked was the one he trusted to.
Tammy sat down across from her husband and put the grocery bag of cash on the table. She told him, calmly, that the twelve thousand one hundred forty dollars was going back into the account, and that the betting slips were going to a counselor and not to the police, if he went to the counselor himself.
Burl added gently that a felony in Pennsylvania did not require a victim to press it, and that Joan had been generous.
Doug did not argue. He drove to the credit union with Tammy that same afternoon and gave back what he had left. He sold his motorcycle to cover the rest, nine thousand three hundred and twenty dollars.
He brought me Walts wedding band on a Friday. It was in a clean sandwich bag, and he could not meet my eyes.
I put it on a chain around my neck, and I said I forgave him, and meant it. But I also told him that if he ever touched the box again, I would not call anyone. I would send Burl.
The bonds are in a real bank now. The green box is empty and bolted to the floor, and Burl visits on Sundays to check the door.
Some nights I go down and spin the dial, and I nod once, and I go back up.