Forgiveness

Valery grinned a lot and shook his head, when I told him what happened the night before, on the road.  I did not leave anything out. 

 

Yury had flown the boss to Saskylakh in the corporate helicopter.  He was quite happy to see the convoy roll in just after dark.

 

After I finished the story, he said, “If Chernoff knew you as well as I do, he would be terrified.  However, he does not, and he could make trouble for you.  He is an influential man.  Maybe the letter you wrote will do some good, but perhaps you should refrain from that sort of thing in the future.”

 

That was when I told him I was quitting, and going home to America.  He jerked back in his chair, almost like I’d hit him.  Then, just as quickly, he composed himself.  He took a deep breath and said, “Well, Evan, I knew when I hired you, this day would come.  I won’t try to change your mind.”

 

“But I will try to appeal to your sense of finishing what you start.  Will you stay and do the lodge visits we have scheduled, and one more security detail in Moscow?  That would keep you here six more weeks.”

 

That was fine with me.  I lived like a king at the lodge.  Mr. Dmitreyev paid me well, and I had saved most of my salary.  With his advice and assistance, I had set up an account at a Swiss bank.  Most of my money was there.  I only kept petty cash in my account at Sberbank.

 

When I go home, I won’t live in a suite at a fancy hotel.  There won’t be a helicopter parked in the front yard.  I won’t eat meals prepared by gourmet chefs, or have an assistant to take care of life’s mundane details. 

 

It was ironic.  I had bathed in cold water and slept on the ground for much of the past decade and a half.  Now that I was surrounded by every luxury imaginable, I was ready to walk away.

 

For the last time, I gave a group of hunters the opportunity to test their skills in the Ural Mountains.  I always offered a helicopter ride to the guests, in the afternoon, when the day’s activities were done.  It gave them a greater appreciation of the beauty and ruggedness of the area.

 

Saying goodbye to my friends at the lodge was just as hard as leaving the military.  When people live and work together like that, they tend to become a family.

 

I would fly to Moscow, do the last security detail, then be on my way.  As I packed, I decided to leave most of my belongings.  I put sticky notes with my co-workers’ names on what would stay.

 

I had enough money to live comfortably for years.  Yet, when I finished packing, aside from clothes, all of my earthly possessions fit into a single box.  I wondered if Kenneth and Roberta Nagel still had Eastwood’s pickup truck.  I didn’t even know if they were still alive.  I was looking forward to finding out.

 

As I landed the Mi-1 at the Perm airport, I realized I would probably never pilot a helicopter again.  It would be stored in a hangar until Mr. Dmitreyev hired my replacement.  I boarded a flight to Moscow, to do the last security detail.

 

I was confused.  Anatoly told me to be at the hotel banquet hall at 7pm.  When I got there, it was obvious the event had already started.  I was thinking I should have been there hours before. 

 

Anatoly saw the look on my face and laughed.  “Come with me.  You have a special job tonight.  You will be on personal guard duty with one of the guests.  When I realized he was taking me to the table with Mr. and Mrs. Rasmussen, I smelled a rat. 

 

Mrs. Rasmussen hugged me and pointed to a seat at their table.  I figured it out.  I was a guest at the party, not an employee.

 

Valery stood at the podium and gave the same sales talk I had heard many times before.  The room was full of current clients as well as potential new ones.  I recognized a number of faces from the lodge. 

 

Then he started talking about how one of his favorite aspects of running a business was watching each of his employees learn, and grow as a person.  Sometimes they exceed the challenge of the job and they must move on.  I cringed when I figured out he was talking about me.

 

At least he said he wasn’t going to ask me to come to the podium and make a speech.  I got away with just standing up and waving to everyone while they applauded.  I was completely unprepared for this.  As always, Valery was one step ahead of me.

 

It was an enjoyable evening.  After most of the guests had filtered out, the boss sat down at our table.

 

“So, my friend, what is next for you?”

 

“It is time for me to wrap things up in Russia, and go back to America.  I’ll got business to tend to in Alaska.  After that, who knows?”

 

“If you need anything, like assistance getting a passport, talk to Galina.”

 

I told Valery how I intended to return home.  A passport will not be necessary.  He laughed and said, “I should have guessed.”

 

Part of the plan involved purchasing a few items.  I would need a boat, a trailer to haul it on, and a vehicle to pull the trailer.  When I got to that part, Valery chimed in.

 

“Evan, I am going to make you an offer you cannot refuse.  Now that the road to Saskylakh is completed, we don’t need the truck so much.  It’s got a lot of wear on it and I’ve been wanting to upgrade to something newer.”

 

“So, I will trade you the truck for your last paycheck.”

 

He was right.  There was no way I could say no to that.  The vehicle was worth ten times the paycheck.

 

There was also a small pile of equipment I would need.  I had spent enough time in Yakutsk to know where to look.  After two days of shopping and packing, I was on the road.  I headed northeast.  My destination was Uelen, Siberia.

 

The journey took five days.  I drove from sunrise to sunset.  Twice I slept in what passed for a hotel in a remote Siberian village.  The other nights, I slept in a tent.

 

It had been a long time since I was in Uelen.  Years before, I had snuck around in the shadows.  This time, I drove down main street, in the vehicle I purchased from Valery.

 

I passed the house I had stolen food from.  I counted the number of buildings between it and the general store. 

 

I spoke the clerk.  “Many years ago, I was in Uelen, and the elderly man who lived five houses down from here helped me out when I was in trouble.  I want to return the favor.  But I was unsure about knocking on the door.  I don’t know if he still lives there.”

 

The clerk said, “Yes, that was Tikaani.  Unfortunately, he died three years ago.  His daughter and her family live there now.”

 

“By chance, does she have an account here at your store?”  I pulled an envelope out of my vest, filled with rubles.  “If so, I’d like to put this toward her balance.”  The man said yes, and I handed him the money.

 

The clerk called the woman on the phone and let her know what had happened.  He said, “She would like to meet you.  Can you wait a few minutes?”

 

“No, unfortunately, I’ve got other business to tend to and I am running behind schedule.  But please tell her, I will never forget what her father did for me.”

 

I drove past the city building, where I had stolen the truck.  You could tell the garage door was newer than the rest of the building.  Evidence of my mischief.

 

When I got to the dock, I backed up the trailer, and eased the boat into the water.  I tied it off on the pier, then parked the truck.  It took a few minutes to secure the gear in the boat, along with the watertight trunk that contained my belongings.

 

For the second time in my life, I laid the keys to a vehicle I owned on the front seat, along with a note. As well as another envelope, containing the rest of the money I had brought with me.

 

Dear residents of Uelen.  Fifteen years ago, I broke into your garage and stole a vehicle.  I am leaving this truck, the trailer, and the money, as repayment for my misdeeds.  Please accept this along with my apologies.

 

Sincerely,

Evan Anthony

 

The motor started with the first pull of the cord.  As I steered the boat into the Arctic Ocean, I looked back.  I wondered if I would ever visit Russia again. 

 

Not counting later today.  My intent was to reach Big Diomede Island sometime after dark, and sleep there.  Then, if all went according to plan, I would stand on Alaskan soil tomorrow.

 

The sun was setting as I approached the island.  I didn’t know whether the various border stations were still manned. Military spending had been cut at the end of the Cold War.  I wasn’t going to take any chances.  It wasn’t hard to find a place to land, far from any of the buildings on the desolate island.  I set up the tent and ate.  As I fell asleep, I thought about the moment tomorrow, when the boat would cross the imaginary line into American waters.

 

I woke up before sunrise, and got on the water as quickly as I could.  I had been listening to the weather reports on the radio.  A storm would be moving in that night.  Anxiety over returning home was not the only reason I had to move quickly.

 

The demarcation between Russia and America is halfway between the two Diomede islands.  I paused before I reached the line.  Diomede Village was visible in the distance.  Through my binoculars, I could see the buildings and the dock.  There were the new garbage bins, replacements for the ones I had set on fire.  And what looked to be the same front end loaders.  I had cut one of the fuel lines, and used the diesel to start the fires.  The loaders were old back then.  Now, they were covered with rust. 

 

That was what I needed to know.  As with Uelen, I had unfinished business in Diomede Village.  But not today.  I gave the engine some gas, and crossed into American territory.

 

Raindrops started falling just before sunset.  The Alaskan shore loomed ahead of me.  I could see the outlines of the buildings in Wales.

 

It was dark and raining hard when I made landfall.  I pulled the boat on the shore and turned to face Kingkinkgin Road.  After fifteen years, I was home.

 

The schoolhouse was a hundred yards ahead of me.  I did not know if the Nagels still lived there.  I was encouraged as I got closer.  I could make out a vehicle, underneath tarps.  By the outline, I could tell it was a pickup truck.

 

I rang the doorbell.  The woman who opened the door was a lot older than I remembered.  She probably thought the same thing about me.  Mrs. Nagel started crying, then threw her arms around me.  I realized she was not the only one shedding tears. 

 

She brewed a pot of coffee, and the three of us sat and talked until we got caught up.  Kenneth had retired, Roberta was still teaching.  Little had changed in Wales.  But there was bad news about Eastwood’s house.  A bolt of lightning had struck during a thunderstorm, and set it on fire.  It burned to the ground.

 

“Evan, we took a bulldozer up there and buried all the debris.  The place is covered with grass now.  I really don’t think you should go there.”

 

I agreed.  I had learned that, while you shouldn’t forget the past, sometimes you just have to move on.

 

I gave them the G-rated version of what I had done while on the other side of the Bering Strait.  I left out many details.

 

Kenneth asked, “So what’s next for you, Evan?”

 

“Does Judge Wentworth still run the court in Nome?”

 

“No, he retired.  His son is the judge now.”

 

“That’s too bad.  I want to clear up any outstanding issues from the crimes I committed at Diomede Village.  He knew Eastwood, and he knows me.  He understands what I was going through when I did those things.”

 

“You should look him up.  I’m pretty sure his son would listen to his advice.  It is summertime.  When the weather is nice you can find the Judge on his boat.  He does a lot of fishing.”

 

I was familiar with the marina in Nome.  Eastwood and I had purchased bait there.

 

“I’ll be making a trip to Nome, then to Little Diomede Island.  After that, my calendar is open.  But first, there is something I must do here.  Tomorrow morning, I would like for the three of us to visit the cemetery.  It is time for me to properly say goodbye to my uncle.”

 

We stood silently, in front of Colonel Edward Joseph Anthony’s headstone.  There wasn’t anything that needed to be said.  Roberta kept putting tissues in my hand.  I remembered when I was in Ushmun, and the railroad track was unlocked from my ankle.  The sense of freedom was overpowering.  I felt that way again.  We walked back to the car.

 

Kenneth and I spent the rest of the day getting Eastwood’s pickup truck running.  He had kept it covered since I left.  But every year, in the summer, he pulled off the tarps, and made sure the old Ford was in working order.

 

Driving down the muddy trail to Nome reminded me of the road to Saskylakh.  For the thousandth time, I asked myself why people live in places like this.

 

I made small talk with the man behind the counter at the marina.  His name was Sivoy.  I recognized him from before.  When I asked if he remembered the skinny kid with a black eye, he smiled and said, “Yeah, you and your uncle kind of stood out.  I knew I had seen you somewhere.”

 

I continued.  “I’ll get to the point.  Fifteen years ago, I did some stupid things and I ended up in front Judge Wentworth.  I had hit bottom, and although it took a while for me to work things out, I never forgot what he told me.”

 

“Among other things, he said he was certain that someday I would get it right.  He told me to look him up when I did.  So here I am.  I was hoping you could help me get in touch with him.  I understand he docks his boat here.”

 

Sivoy said, “Well, you’re not the only one who has had that conversation with the Judge.  When I was young, it took me a while to figure out how not to drink and drive.  Let me give him a call.”

 

The man dialed, spoke into the telephone, then gave the handset to me.

 

“Hello, Judge.  This is Evan Anthony.”

 

“Hello, Evan.  I didn’t expect it would take fifteen years for us to resume our conversation.  Eastwood only made me wait three years.  You interested in doing some fishing this afternoon?”

 

The man who accompanied the Judge was quite a bit younger, but the resemblance was obvious.  I would spend the day fishing with two generations of judges.

 

We did more talking than fishing.  The younger judge told me, “When I was growing up, your Uncle Eastwood was like a legend in my house.  My father had told me stories about him since I was little.  I heard about your adventures, over the phone, while I was in law school.  When Dad called me a few minutes ago, I cancelled my afternoon appointments.  I cannot wait to hear what about what you did in Russia.”

 

I gave them the entire saga.  Except the part about the fingers.  I had decided to never speak of that again.  At any rate, it didn’t happen in their jurisdiction.

 

Then I brought up the vandalism and theft I had committed in Diomede Village.  I told them of my plan.  I had located a refurbished, almost new front end loader, similar to the one I had vandalized.  It would take a big chunk of my savings.  But I knew the dumpsters I had destroyed were expensive, and I’m sure I had caused financial difficulties for the tiny town.  I intended to buy the machine and have it delivered to Little Diomede Island.

 

“So, gentlemen, what do you think?  Before I do anything else, I want to make sure no one has a legal reason to come looking for me.”

 

The younger Judge Wentworth spoke.  “After fifteen years, it would be unusual for a case like this to ever come to trial.  Since you are already planning on making restitution to your victims, I certainly don’t have any desire to see you prosecuted.  Ultimately, it is up to the people in Diomede Village.  Let me speak to Irniq, he is the head of the city council.”

 

“Beyond that, I’ll just say, this is one of the most unusual cases I’ve ever seen.”  The younger judge turned to his father.  “What do you think, Dad?  You’re the expert here.  I should probably defer to your judgement.”

 

“I know Irniq pretty well.  Evan, he and I talked several times after you wreaked havoc on his village.  It will be his call.  But my guess is, he will be very glad to learn that you are alive and well, and not at all interested in seeing you punished.  By the way, he is the man that aimed the shotgun over your head that night.  You made quite an impression on him, when you talked him out of taking the second shot.”

 

“I see no reason why any further legal action needs to be taken.  Our court is overcrowded as it is.  I do have a question for you, though.  Did you ever earn your high school diploma?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“You worried the stew out of Roberta Nagel with all your crazy antics.  You probably owe her more than anyone else.  So why don’t we do this.  We’ll consider her to be your probation officer.  You can take the classes you never finished, and be her assistant the rest of the time.  Graduating from high school would be a good place for you to start the rest of your life.”

 

A few days later, I was a passenger on a tug boat.  The barge it towed carried a Caterpillar 938G loader.  I watched as the captain maneuvered the barge up to the dock at Diomede Village. 

 

I thought, “Today, I am wiping the slate clean.”  To the best of my ability, I had made up for the mistakes I made, years ago. 

 

Tomorrow, I would unpack my belongings in the Nagel’s spare bedroom.  And contemplate the upcoming year, as the oldest high school senior in the history of Wales, Alaska.