He came. He. I don’t even know his name anymore.
—Maggie Walther’s Diary
Andrew arrived at my house ninety minutes later, half an hour later than I’d expected. The extra thirty minutes felt like days. I wondered if he had changed his mind.
I met him at the door and let him in. This time he hugged me. I didn’t know what kind of hug it was, one of love or condolence, but I wasn’t picky. I was just glad to feel him. We sat down together on the couch—the same couch where he had comforted me and I had first fallen in love with him. Same couch, different world.
For a moment we sat in awkward silence, not sure how to begin. Then I said, “May I go first?”
He nodded.
My voice was soft and strained. I couldn’t look at him as I spoke. “Andrew, I love you. I know I really screwed up and I don’t deserve you, but I’m just hoping that you can somehow forgive me and give me a chance to show you how much I love you.” A tear fell down my cheek. “My heart is broken.” He still didn’t speak. I looked up into his eyes. “Do you care that it’s broken?”
His eyes welled up. Then he shook his head. “You’re right, you don’t deserve me. But not in the way you think.” He gave a heavy sigh. “It’s time you knew the truth.” He pulled back slightly, squaring himself to me. “Of course I care that your heart’s broken. My heart’s broken too. But that doesn’t change reality. What you need—what you really deserve—is the truth. And the truth is, you don’t know who I am.” He looked me in the eyes. “Maggie, I can’t fake it anymore. I love you too much for that.”
I took his hand. “I know who you are. You’re the man who held me when my world was falling apart. You’re the man who takes food to the poor. I know you. I know you’re good and generous and kind. What more do I need to know?”
“Tell me, then. What am I missing?”
He was quiet for a long time. Then he looked into my eyes and said, “Ask me my name.”
I just looked at him.
“Ask me my name, Maggie.”
I had no idea why he was asking me to do that, but something in the way he said it frightened me. I swallowed. “What is your name?”
“My name is Aaron Hill.”
I just looked at him. “I don’t understand.”
“Andrew is my brother. I’m Aaron. I’m the one who stole millions of my clients’ dollars. Not my brother.”
“But your brother went to prison.”
“I took the money, but my brother took the time. He went to prison in my place.”
His words took a moment to sink in. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe me, or you don’t want to believe me?”
“Either.”
“What would you have me do to convince you?”
“Tell me what happened.”
He rubbed his chin. “All right.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I told you about the trial. It lasted almost two weeks. Most of it was technical, the state laying out exactly where the money had gone, how many illegal transactions had actually been made, all my criminal details. They didn’t have to work for the information, since I provided them with most of it. You could say I helped build my gallows.
“It was the worst time of my life. It was as difficult as when my parents died. In some ways, worse. There was no shame with my parents’ death.
“Every day I thought of taking my life. Several times I planned it out in detail. Every day I fought that battle by myself. I was completely alone. My friends, or at least the people I thought were my friends, deserted me. My cheating wife had already divorced me and was using my weakened position to make false accusations of abuse, hoping to take everything I had.” He looked at me with despair. “Kick them when they’re down, right?”
“What about your brother? Where was he?”
Aaron shook his head. “I hadn’t seen Andrew since he helped boot me out of my own company.”
“Your brother was involved with that?”
Aaron nodded slowly, and I could see that it still hurt him. “It couldn’t have happened without him. Together we owned the majority of the stock. It wasn’t his idea, but he made it possible. The truth is, the investors played him. But he went along.” He slowly exhaled in anguish. “It’s like I said: I was betrayed by everyone.”
I just looked at him with pity.
“It was the morning of what was likely the last day of my trial. I had hardly slept, and when I got out of bed, I was so anxious that I threw up. I was literally counting down my last minutes of freedom, anticipating the fear and humiliation of life in prison. I can’t begin to describe what that was like. I’d been on trial for almost two weeks by then, and all that was left were the attorneys’ closing arguments and the jury’s deliberation.
“The trial hadn’t gone well.” He smiled darkly. “That’s an understatement. To begin with, I had already confessed to the crime, so I had no leverage. Nothing to bargain with.”
I remembered what Clive told me the other evening about not pleading guilty.
“There was no doubt that I was going to prison. The only question was for how long. So there I was, numb and nauseated, my mind spinning like a top, wondering how long it would be before I saw my house again. I felt crazy, like I was losing my mind.
“Then, in the midst of that insane moment, Andrew walked into my house. Not exactly someone I wanted to see. Part of me wanted to punch him, but the fact was, I didn’t have any fight left in me. I asked him if he’d come to gloat or to steal. He said he came to talk. I said there was nothing left to talk about and no time to do it. I told him my lawyer would be there any minute to take me to court. He said, ‘I know. That’s why I’m here.’
“I said, ‘I’m going to prison, brother. I hope that makes you and your cronies happy.’ I took out my wallet and offered him a hundred-dollar bill. ‘Here, buy some champagne and have a toast on me. To your felon brother. May he rot in prison.’
“He just looked at me and said, ‘You’re not going to prison.’
“I said, ‘You clearly haven’t been following my trial.’ Just then my lawyer honked his horn outside. I said, ‘That’s my ride. Lock up after yourself.’
“I started to leave, but he said, ‘I’ve been following your trial, Aaron. You’re not going to prison, because I am.’ Then he set his driver’s license and keys on my counter, along with a small leather book. ‘I’ve put everything in order. These are the keys to my car and house. The house alarm number is the last four digits of your phone number. This notebook has every bank account, username, password, and code I have. It’s all yours. There’s a wall safe behind the floral painting in my bedroom. The combination to it is in the book. Inside the safe are keys to my safe deposit boxes and the Cabo condo. Everything else you can figure out.’
“ ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
“He said, ‘I’m taking your place. I’m going to leave with your lawyer, and you’re going to take my car and drive to my home and start a new life with my name. Now give me your driver’s license.’
“I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I told him, ‘You can’t do this.’
“His eyes welled up. ‘I have to do this,’ he said. ‘I helped them betray you. You never would have gotten caught up in any of this if it wasn’t for what I let them do to you.’
“I said, ‘I’m not going to let you.’
“He looked at me and said, ‘I figured you would probably say that. So I’m going to lay out your options. You can give me your license and let me do this, or you can go to prison while I go home and wait for the verdict. If you’re given anything besides probation, I’ll blow my head off with that Smith & Wesson you gave me for my twenty-fifth birthday.’ He stared me in the eye. ‘Believe it or not, I actually do have a conscience. I can’t live with what I’ve done. Guilt is its own kind of prison. It’s what hell is made of.
“ ‘Sorry to spring this on you, brother, but those are your options. You let me go to prison for a few years and attempt to make amends and assuage my guilt, or you go to prison with the knowledge that you killed your brother. That shouldn’t be too hard a decision.’ He held out his hand. ‘Now hurry and give me your license. I’m assuming my lawyer charges by the hour.’
“I took out my wallet and gave him my driver’s license. He said, ‘You might as well give me the whole wallet, because after today, Aaron Hill doesn’t exist outside of prison.’
“As I handed him my wallet, my cell phone rang. It was my lawyer. Andrew said, ‘I should take that too.’ He handed me his phone as he answered mine, saying he would be right out. Then he looked at me and said, ‘I’m sorry for what I did to you. I hope this will help you forgive me.’ He began to turn, then stopped and said, ‘One more thing: I didn’t know Scott was cheating with Jamie. I would have prevented that if I could have. I would have told you. I’m not that despicable.’ I thanked him. He said, ‘Thank you for letting me do this. I’ll see you in a couple of years.’ Then he put on his sunglasses, walked out of my house, and drove away with my attorney.
“I went down to the courthouse to watch the rest of the trial. It was maddening seeing the prosecution paint me as a monster and watching my brother take it. When the jury pronounced their verdict, Andrew didn’t even flinch. After the gavel came down, my brother looked back and made eye contact with me. Then he nodded slightly and turned. The officer handcuffed him and took him away.”
He took a deep breath. “My brother gave me his name. For the last two years I’ve lived as Andrew Hill.” He looked at me. “He’s out now. He’s still in Colorado for the time being—but not as a convicted felon. I’ve given him his name back. He’s Andrew again. And I’m Aaron, the ex-convict with a record.”
I let the pronouncement settle. Then I said, “What if I told you that I love you no matter what you’ve done or what your name is?”
“I would say you’re a fool.” He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Good-bye, Maggie.”
“Where are you going?”