Pewter Angels (19 page)

After another few minutes of small talk, Henry headed home. The sun had slipped below the horizon and the corner street lights came on, making him conscious of his shadow as he walked home. As he neared the streetlight, the shadow behind him grew shorter and shorter until it was just beneath his feet. When he passed, his shadow grew longer again, in front of him now, arriving at his house before he did. Just before he opened the gate, Henry stopped and raised both arms, curling his fingers, watching as the shadow before him morphed into a monster. He smiled to himself as he brought his arms down. Maybe he wasn’t quite finished being a little kid.

Henry swung open the gate and made for the front steps, surprised to see his dad was sitting on one of them. He wondered if his dad had seen him fooling around with the shadow. He still seemed absorbed in thought.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, son. Over at Gary’s place?”

“Yeah, they got home last night, and I thought I’d go and say hello. Sounds like they had a nice holiday.”

When his dad didn’t respond, Henry knew it was because his own family hadn’t gotten away that year because of his dad’s work. Henry wanted to sit down and talk with him, but it felt awkward.

“Well, good night, Dad. Think I’ll head off to bed. Big day at the store tomorrow.”

“G’night, son.” As Henry passed him, his father added, “I left another paintbrush for you on the kitchen table. You can use it. Just make sure you clean it when you’re done.”

“I sure will, Dad. Thanks a lot.” Henry left his dad on the stoop and went in.

His mom was mending some of his socks. She asked him about Gary and his family and he filled her in.

“Your dad left a paintbrush out for you.”

“Yeah, I know, he just told me. Boy, I’m sure tired tonight. Think I’ll hit the hay early.”

“Well, you do have a busy day tomorrow, maybe that’s a good idea.”

With that Henry headed down the hallway to the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror seemed older, he thought. He placed a finger above his upper lip and rubbed at the soft fine hair growing there. He wondered when he would be able to shave. He lowered his finger to his lips, trying again to feel Jenny’s mouth on his, her tongue touching his. He wanted to savour the day, somehow store its memories and preserve them. He was reluctant to wash his face or brush his teeth because he wanted it to linger a little while longer.

In his room, he climbed into bed. The blinds were open and the light of the full moon cast shadows of tree branches across his blanket and up the wall. He thought of playing with the light to create another shadow, like he’d done with the streetlight, but he no longer wanted to play that game. He only wanted to think about the day, what had happened—and what hadn’t.

Henry closed his eyes, letting his thoughts run free.

H
enry arrived at work
on the last day before school wondering how Mr. Engelmann would be able to keep up with things. Business had picked up considerably, and if the good service they had developed didn’t continue, things could easily take a turn for the worse again. There was only so much Henry could do on evenings and Saturdays. “’Morning, Mr. Engelmann.”

“Ah,
guten Morgen
, Henry,” Mr. Engelmann peered over the rim of his glasses. Keen hazel eyes beneath bushy brows read Henry’s every move and gesture. “How was your outing with Jenny?”

“Oh, it was great, Mr. Engelmann. We sure had a good time.”

Satisfied that Henry had done no wrong, Mr. Engelmann nodded once and lowered his gaze to the invoice in front of him.

After a brief silence, he said, “There are three deliveries this morning. Could you please look after them before restocking the shelves?”

“Sure, Mr. Engelmann. I’ll do them right away.” Henry studied the deliveries to plan out his route. Since they weren’t large orders, all three easily fit in his bike carrier. “See you in a bit.”

When Henry returned, Mr. Engelmann asked him to watch the store while he tended to Anna. She had not been feeling well for the last few days and it was clear Mr. Engelmann was worried about her. As Henry restocked shelves, a man wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt and navy blue tie with maroon stripes entered the store. Henry was impressed by the matching maroon hankie tucked into the man’s breast pocket. Henry wished he could dress like that man someday.

The man looked around until his eyes settled on Henry standing in the centre aisle.

“Do you sell Players cigarettes?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Good, I’d like three packages.” He put $1.50 in quarters down on the counter.

Henry got the cigarettes for the man, who winked at him and left the store, tossing a casual “Keep the change” over his shoulder.

Henry wondered what he did for a living and jogged to the front door to see what kind of a car he was driving. By the time he got to the window, though, the man was gone.

As Henry returned to restocking shelves, his eye caught the glint of the quarters beside the till. He walked over to the counter and stared down at the money. He had forgotten to ring it in. He moved to the other side of the counter to do so, then hesitated. No one was in the store and Mr. Engelmann was upstairs with his wife. He looked at the six shiny quarters and thought how easy it would be to take them. He also thought about all the things he could buy with that money, especially with school just starting. He had worked hard for Mr. Engelmann and hadn’t received very much in payment. He looked around to see if Mr. Engelmann had come back, but he was still alone.

Henry glanced over to the tiny opening in the wall behind the till. He had noticed Mr. and Mrs. Engelmann peek through it on occasion to check on customers in the store. They especially kept a watchful eye on young people to make sure they didn’t take anything. If one of them swiped a candy bar or some other sweet, Mr. Engelmann would come out from the back and politely ask the boy if he wanted to include the pocketed item in his purchase. Even Henry and his friends had all been amazed that Mr. Engelmann seemed to know their every move, almost as if he had x-ray vision or the power to read thoughts or something.

Henry had that same kind of feeling now, even though he was sure Mr. Engelmann wasn’t there. Then the toilet flushed above him and he knew Mr. Engelmann would be down in a minute.

Henry stared at the money. He wanted it, yet something inside rebelled. His heart raced as he covered all six quarters with his hand. The money felt cold against his hot sweaty palm. He pulled the coins towards him.
Quick, Henry, just take it and put it in your pocket. No one will know. No one. No one but me.

Like a bolt of lightning, a flash of insight illuminated Henry’s troubled mind.
Values
, Mr. Engelmann had said.
Principles to live by
. When they had talked about it out back, Henry hadn’t quite understood how these thing applied to his own life. He remembered how Mr. Engelmann had struggled to find words and examples to more clearly define his meaning, and Henry remembered the day before in the park with Jenny—and why he’d stopped. Tempted for the second time in as many days, he understood the choice between right and wrong at a gut level.

Values to live by and choices based on values. Honesty, that’s a value. That’s what Mr. Engelmann meant. Are you honest or dishonest, Henry? taking that money is stealing. That’s dishonest.
Sure—it was just another choice he had to make based on a value he believed in, but it wasn’t just a one time choice. Life was a series of ongoing, daily choices! There was always a choice.

Henry felt the edge of a coin bite his hand and instantly knew the choice he had to make. Without lifting his hand, he simply pushed the entire six quarters back as far back as he possibly could towards the till where they belonged, then lifted his trembling hand off the silver. Two of the quarters stuck to his sweaty palm then dropped with a clang on the marble counter before rolling to a stop. At the sound, his face turned beet red and he held his breath. He glanced up to see if Mr. Engelmann had come down, but he was still alone.

Henry left the money there and went back to restocking shelves. He wanted to get as far away from the six quarters as fast as he could. His heart pounded and sweat had formed circles under his armpits and rolled down his back. As he placed a bottle of dish detergent on the top shelf, he looked past the neatly placed bottles and met Mr. Engelmann’s gaze where he stood in the shadow of the back doorway.

How long had he been there? Had Mr. Engelmann seen him?

As Mr. Engelmann walked into the light of the store, Henry looked at him intently, studying his eyes for an answer. Mr. Engelmann only smiled. There was no anger, just a look of contentment … or was it satisfaction?

“Did you sell a hundred dollars’ worth of groceries while I was gone?”

Mr. Engelmann’s laughter eased the tension gripping Henry. He took a deep breath.

“No,” he replied, his throat dry and crackly. He tried to smile back and make light of Mr. Engelmann’s question.

Mr. Engelmann took his spot behind the counter and noticed the six quarters.

“What is this, Henry?” He pointed to the coins with a bent forefinger.

“Oh that,” Henry said nervously, trying to find the right way to explain it. “Yeah, a man came in all dressed up and bought three packages of cigarettes and said to keep the change. I ran over to see what make of car he was driving after he left, and … I guess I forgot to ring in the sale. Sorry, Mr. Engelmann.”

“Please, Henry, never leave money lying around. Always put it into the till. Money is a source of temptation. It is a good method of exchange and yet it can be the source of much evil.” He peered over his glasses and stared at Henry, hard.

“Yes, sir,” Henry replied, contrite. “I won’t let it happen again.”

And he meant every word.

Mr. Engelmann rang in the sale and took out fourteen cents.

“Here, Henry. This is yours. As the man said, ‘Keep the change.’”

Henry hesitated. He didn’t deserve it, after all he’d almost stolen it.

“Come on, Henry. Come. Here it is.”

Henry walked over to the counter. He looked at the money, reluctant to take it.

“Henry!” Mr. Engelmann said, startling him somewhat. Henry’s gaze snapped up to meet Mr. Engelmann’s. “You deserve it. When I hired you, I said it and I say it again now: you’re a good boy, no—a good man.” And then with a look that penetrated Henry’s very soul, he added, “I trust you.”

They looked at each other for a long moment and Henry had the feeling that somehow Mr. Engelmann knew what had almost happened. It had felt like he was being watched, like he was being tested. How well had he learned Mr. Engelmann’s lesson? Maybe that well-dressed man was even part of the test. Henry slowly picked up the money and put it in his pocket without a word. He went back to work, not wanting Mr. Engelmann to see how proud he felt or the tears welling up in his eyes.

As Henry filled the gaps on the shelves, Mr. Engelmann went through the invoices to be paid. The letter from the city tax department was still tucked beneath the till. Henry saw a corner of the letter stuck out. He thought about Mr. Engelmann’s financial burden.

He gasped and raised a hand to his mouth. He had nearly stolen money that Mr. Engelmann desperately needed.

It really came home to him that a life lived on sound values was a life well lived, free of the burden of worry, shame and guilt. Had he taken the money, he might have been richer by $1.50, but how much poorer in self-respect, self-image and self-worth? Rather than pride, he would be riddled with guilt, worrying that Mr. Engelmann would notice the cigarettes missing from his inventory. And, having done it once and gotten away with it, he would be tempted to steal again. It made Henry remember what Mr. Engelmann had said about Pavlov’s dogs: once rewarded, one can easily become conditioned to repeat his actions.

And even worse, had he given in to temptation, the entire truth of this experience—the enormous revelation of living a life based on truth and values—would have completely passed him by. It was all beginning to make sense now.

Mr. Engelmann’s
I trust you, Henry
resonated in his mind for a long time.