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favorite charities. The American Cancer Society. Northwest Second Har-
vest. The Goodwill, where she did much of her shopping throughout her
life. I retain an attorney and dump the rest into an investment account, to
be reviewed once annually on the anniversary of my mother s death.
Eventually the money will go into a trust for the children Sonja and I will
have together.
I ve had my mother s mail rerouted to my place, so every time she
gets a package of coupons or a renewal notice from the Sierra Club or
Amnesty International, I get sweet little reminders of a life lived well.
A little more than a year after Tronstad s death, Sonja takes a vacation
to Hawaii with her three best friends, young women she s been close to all
through school and beyond.  You don t mind, do you? Sonja asks.
 Not at all. It ll give me a chance to spend some time at the titty bars.
 Quit it.
 If I get tired of boobs, and the weather cooperates, I might drive over
to Eastern Washington and go hiking. Maybe even an overnighter.
 That sounds like fun.
After her plane leaves, I drive home, pack up the bearer bonds in a
large cardboard box, wipe it clean of prints, and take it to an attorney,
where I lay out the entire story. The attorney contacts the local federal
prosecutor and hashes out a deal. I will turn in the bonds in return for
blanket immunity to any crimes associated with the theft. I will guarantee
I m not holding anything back, and they will trust my guarantee. Twelve
million in bonds is far more than they were looking for. I will keep the
names of any confederates to myself. In return, the government will not
name me publicly. They will get the bonds, and I will walk away with a
clean slate. Everybody will be happy.
Sonja comes back from Maui, and a month later we buy a two-
bedroom fixer-upper on Thirty-fifth Avenue SW, a main thoroughfare near
Station 37. We are pounding nails and restoring it one room at a time. The
work is satisfying, especially my chores in what will be the baby s room.
I strive to be a man who defines himself, rather than having his pos-
sessions define him. I do not wallow in luxury goods or run up tabs on
credit cards.
T HE S MOK E R O OM 307
It is ironic that in death my mother has given me what she could
never provide in life, a surfeit of material wealth. Just as ironic is the fact
that I cannot bring myself to touch it.
I ride Engine 29 and take pride in my duties. On alarms I deliver the
goods, and when we have a fire, my crew gets water. We drill for the chief
and I make no mistakes. Sonja and I talk about having babies, about her
day in the patrol car, my day at the fire station, about national politics or
the last movie we saw together. Whenever the weather allows, I skate.
When she s not at work, Sonja skates with me. We listen to music. We read
books. We take walks after dinner. We enjoy each other s company and the
company of our friends.
Two weeks after I make the deal with the feds, my attorney calls. The
government has flown experts from the Treasury Department to Seattle
to examine the bonds and has learned they are fakes. Eventually the
bank would have caught Tronstad for the bonds he cashed. The govern-
ment bonds are counterfeit, and the private and foreign bank bonds are
phoney, too. For twenty years Ghanet had been hoarding a treasure that is
bogus.
It kills me to think about it. Three sacks of garbage propelled the run-
away machine that chewed up my life and killed six people.
Once a day, sometimes more, black thoughts cross my mind,
thoughts of pumping on Russell Abbott s chest, of the charred corpses at
the intersection of California and Admiral Way, of the tiny article in the
Seattle Times noting Heather Wynn s death. Sears twisting in the grip of
the whirlpool. Tronstad choosing money over his very life. I lie to myself.
I rationalize and I justify and I make the best of my part in all of it. I live
my life and it is good, but underneath, I carry a secret that is as nasty as
the cancer my mother walked around with.
These days, perhaps more than anybody around, I realize the value
of law.
I do not trample rules. I do not roll through stop signs. I do not drive
the interstate five miles over the speed limit. I do not hedge when filling
out tax forms. I return my library books on time. I pocket my litter and
that of the next man. Sometimes my punctiliousness annoys Sonja, but I
will not change.
308 E A R L E ME R S ON
I have to admit there are times when I am tempted by the money my [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]