Part 3 — The 1983 Polaroid
Buck handed the Polaroid to Dwight. A young Dwight stood grinning in front of a pickup truck, with Hanks arm across his shoulders. On the back, in Hanks careful handwriting, it said: Loan of $5,000 to my brother Dwight for his hauling truck, summer 1983. Signed: Dwight.
“Hank loaned you five grand to start your business,” Buck said. “You signed the back. Forty-three years, and he never asked for a dime. He told me to show you this picture only if you ever took something that was not yours.”
Dwight stared at the Polaroid. The chrome on his new Ram suddenly looked a lot less shiny.
I stepped forward. “The title to the Mustang was in Hanks name only, Dwight,” I said. “You had no authority to sell it. I visited the county tag agency in May, and I filed a statement with the sheriffs office.”
A deputy who had been admiring the cars walked over and tipped his hat. He explained the sale was void, and that Dwight could either repay the money voluntarily or face a formal complaint.
A brother who gives is remembered long after a brother who takes.
Dwight lowered his head. “I will make it right, Peg,” he said. He agreed in writing to repay the $14,000 he had received, and to settle the old $5,000 note. I forgave the interest on the note, because I knew Hank would have, and set the terms at $500 a month.
Loretta looked at her husband for a long time. Then she took the keys to the Ram out of his pocket and handed them to the dealer who was displaying nearby. By Monday the truck was sold and the restitution was paid in full.
The car show judges gave the Mustang a special award that afternoon, for best story. Buck accepted it for Hank, holding the trophy against his oxygen tank with both hands.
I drove the car home with Buck in the passenger seat. We kept the windows down, and the old engine sounded exactly the way it had on our first date.
That Sunday, Dwight came to the house without being asked. He washed the Mustang in my driveway, slowly and carefully, from the bumper to the trunk. When he finished, he set Hanks coffee mug back on the garage workbench and did not say a word.
Some apologies are spoken. That one was done with a sponge and a bucket.