Shattered Diamonds

1 Alex Everyone in my beloved hometown thinks I killed my wife. I never imagined what a lonely place picturesque Brunswick Bay Harbor could be, until I became a social outcast. I grew up in this quaint seaside town in Maine and never once felt the desire to move away. I have always known how lucky we were to live in such a naturally beautiful location. Even the extra-long winters have never bothered me because they toughened us and made us fully appreciate the rare warm, sunny days. This lovely town is the perfect place to raise our sweet and sensitive daughter, Hannah. Well, it was, until Claire went missing. Now, the locale is tarnished beyond repair––just like my reputation. The town’s people have known me my entire life. They watched me grow up. They cheered me on at wrestling matches when I went all the way to the semi-state finals. They watched while I fell madly in love with, and married, my high school sweetheart, Claire. And now they think it’s my fault she’s gone. Clanging bells from the weather-beaten wooden boats rocking at their docks, along with the high-pitched shrieks of seagulls circling the morning’s lobster catch hoping for a handout, made the perfect background noise as I walked towards Mimi’s Diner––the only place left in town where I felt remotely welcome. The plump, grandmotherly woman who ran the restaurant that boasted her name was a no-nonsense Down Easter. Mimi wasn’t afraid to shake her finger in your face, if she felt the need to teach you a lesson. She was also one of the only people in town, outside of my immediate family, who didn’t automatically assume that I killed Claire. Mimi gave me the benefit of the doubt, which was a lot more than I could say for most of the people I thought I knew. The briny air assaulted my nostrils as I walked around the corner onto Blueberry Cove Street. The fresh scent of the sea breeze, mixed with decaying fish and pine trees created a unique odor that was distinct to Brunswick Bay Harbor. Some might turn up their noses at the seafood stench, but to me, it simply smelled like home. The young couple that passed by on the sidewalk refused to make eye contact with me, but I noticed that the young man tightened his grasp on the young lady’s arm as they moved to the right and as far from me as possible, without actually stepping off the curb and walking in the street. Their reaction was nothing unusual, but that didn’t keep it from hurting. It was almost as if they thought I was going to jump out at them with a weapon in the middle of town. I wondered if local parents told their frightened children scary bedtime stories about the lonely author, who murdered his wife and hid her body. As cautious as everyone was around me, I feared it might not be too far-fetched to believe they warned their kids to stay far away from me. The strange part is that I can’t bring myself to blame them. The spouse is always a prime suspect––sadly. Since Claire’s disappearance remains unsolved, I shouldn’t be surprised that everyone thinks I did it, or at least was involved. If it were someone else, I would probably wonder the same thing. Understanding it doesn’t make it hurt any less, though. At a time when I’m grieving the disappearance of the one person who meant more than anything to me, hoping beyond hope that she’s somehow okay, and when I most need someone to lean on, the people of my town have turned their backs on me. People who praised me and gave me high-fives as I strutted through town when I was a high school wrestling star now actively avoided me by dodging into shops or across the street when they saw me coming. Just ahead of me on the sidewalk, I noticed a tiny leather shoe. A baby had obviously kicked it off. Smiling as I remembered those days with Hannah, I stooped to pick it up, so I could return it to the likely harried parents. Spying a woman pushing a stroller up the steep hill a block ahead of where I was, I began jogging to catch up to her. When I got within hearing distance, I yelled out to her, “Ma’am? Excuse me, Ma’am?” I made it almost all the way up to her before she turned back. Recognition immediately dawned in her eyes as they widened with surprise before she took an involuntary step back, trying to ease away from me, without being openly rude. She looked vaguely familiar to me––as the faces of people who live in the same small town often do––but I couldn’t recall a time when we had directly interacted with each other. It was obvious by her frightened expression that she recognized me from the news, which wasn’t anything unusual. There wasn’t a person in mid-coastal Maine, or quite possibly in the entire state, who didn’t recognize me. Although I hid my true identity behind a top-secret pen name for my writing, I had always assumed that any notoriety I received would be as an author––not as a potential killer. The jog up the hill had my out-of-shape, butt-in-a-chair-all-day body panting, but I gave her my best non-predator smile. I held the shoe out towards her and said, “Here, I think your little one dropped this.” She bugged her eyes out at me, frozen in place, and I began to wonder if she might refuse to take her child’s missing shoe from me. She must recognize it, but she seemed too frightened to even reach her hand out in my direction to accept it. The thought entered my mind that I could slowly reach forward to place it on the stroller, but I feared coming any closer to her baby would make her mother’s instinct kick in. I wasn’t up for getting kicked in the nuts while trying to do a good deed, so I merely stood there, smiling like a dope, and holding the tiny shoe out towards her. When the silence dragged on, I finally offered sadly, “I’ll set it down on the sidewalk and walk away, so you can feel safe enough to retrieve it.” The young mother’s chin lifted stubbornly. Obviously making a decision to be polite, she held out her hand and said, “No, that won’t be necessary.” She looked me directly in the eyes as she accepted the shoe from my hand. Her gaze was still wary, but steady when she said crisply, “Thank you, Mr. Biggs.” “You’re welcome.” I turned quickly and headed back towards the diner, not wanting to make her regret her decision to be polite to me. For me, it had been a great interaction. With a sad sigh, I realized it was one of the best conversations I’d had with anyone outside of Mimi or my family in months. My isolated existence couldn’t continue forever, but I didn’t know what to do to fix it. Moving away would rip Hannah away from all of her family and friends at a time when she’s already dealing with her mother being missing. Besides, I needed to believe that Claire was still alive and would someday find her way home. When she did, her daughter and I would be there, waiting for her with open arms.