The Stealing of Things [Chapter 6]

The nights I have off from work are truly my own. Jamison and the kids eventually have to go to sleep, while my own rhythm keeps me awake. Of course, I extend the same courtesy to them as they do for me in the afternoon, meaning keeping to myself and keeping quiet, but I might say those are already my defaults. On occasions I have tended to the sick or nightmare-stricken child, a reminder to myself that I am indeed a mother, one who doesn’t need to have her husband’s sleep interrupted.

If I were a more adventurous person, I would maybe go to one of those twenty-four-hour diners for a meal, or simply go for a walk under the stars, but then again, the nightly news has too often told stories of young women late at night being preyed upon by strange men wishing to do them indignities. That, and I had already experienced my own share of late-night adventures of a different sort.

No, for me, the night is for simply curling up to read a nice book. The television set doesn’t broadcast anything but the black-and-white fuzz at that time of night, and it would be too loud anyways. Sometimes I take the time to bake something fancy for the family to have for breakfast, but I have been also accused of waking them up too early with the good smells.

Books are all the company and adventure I need, really. That night, however, I was put at pause by the characters in my novel, namely those of the feminine sort. Flipping back through several pages of exposition confirmed my suspicions. It is far too often that a woman was only seen by the author as breasts, high heels, lips, or shiny hair. That, or they were entirely unpleasant and therefore unattractive. I can recall one female teacher who might be described that way, but that is beside the point.

There is one moment where women are described in more detail, being when they are taken for a kiss, especially by the bold and complex male lead. It is their hearts we hear about, and how they beat and flutter, and furthermore, their bodies that flop like a freshly-struck fish from the supermarket, only to be held more tightly by the protagonist. Never in my life have I ever flopped at a kiss from Jamison, not even upon the altar on our wedding day. To think of it, if I were to flop, even the fine, strong husband of mine might have trouble holding me up and steady.

I had to think harder if there was a time my heart had ever fluttered, at a kiss or otherwise. By that time, the words on the pages of the book were lost to me. The last kiss to reach my lips was… the strange woman in the garden of the museum. The heft of the hardcover flopping to the ground certainly made my heart jump, there in the otherwise quiet house.

---

I woke up Tuesday afternoon by an excited hand nearly pulling me out of bed. “Mama! Mama, the jewel! From the toom!”

“Sorry, Liz.” Jamison seemed to groan from the door of the bedroom. “They were so excited, I couldn’t hold them back any longer.”

Sitting up, I caught sight of my husband, still somehow in his button-up shirt from work. “Excited for… ah! Yes, the visit to the museum.” I patted the back of James’ little hand, still latched onto the sleeve of my nightgown. “I’ll get up and get ready right away. About dinner, though…”

“It’s an occasion, isn’t it?” Jamison posed, herding the little one out with a tap to his back. “We can eat out early. I checked the phone book, there’s a… bistro— if that’s how you say it— across the street. We can eat there before we head inside.”

“That sounds… perfect,” I hummed, finally placing my feet on the ground.

---

Perhaps in a manner to throw off my coworkers, I put myself together in a long dress, one of the very few I owned. With a neckline hovering around my collarbones, coupled with a heavy bow at the front, I hoped my face would be but a blur to most others. The boys stuck to their school dress, nearly matching button-shirts and not-too-wrinkled trousers. I hoped that if I were recognized, we could be seen as a proper family.

Parking downtown was a beast quite different during the day, but we managed a spot and walked the rest of the way. I had only ever seen the bistro dark, with its tables and umbrellas packed away. The combination of it done up and producing smells of fancy cooking made my morning slightly more bearable.

To spare the other patrons from noisy, yet-to-be-fed children, we took a table outside, not far from the road, and in view of the face of the museum entrance. I decided quickly from the menu and took the rest of the time to analyze the crowd headed for our final destination. Another sight caught my eye, however— the dark-eyes gaze of a tanned woman, hiding out under a wide-brimmed hat. Her eyes didn’t leave me even when I took notice of her, leaving me enough time to recognize the lips presenting themselves under her other delicate features. She was at a table all alone, but after our mutual eye contact, she stood, offering me a sole motion of her eyes to drag me up.

“I’ll be… I’m going to use the restroom.”

“Ah, okay—“ Jamison responded quickly, forced out of his own decision-making process. “I’ll order that thing you said for you if they come by, alright?”

I found the door inside the restaurant with a dress-shaped silhouette and entered, looking back over my shoulder several times in quick succession. Somehow I noticed myself in the wide mirror first, forcing me to fix my hair in an unconscious motion. Reflected behind me were three stall doors, all unlocked. One swung open slightly, the tanned woman glancing out through the gap. I jerked around, stepping her way with the words ready on my tongue.

“If you think I’m going to step in there with you—“

She raised a finger to my lips. “You’ve already come this way. Inside, before anyone else enters.”

I glanced at the door. It was a combination of both our powers that brought us inside, the metal latch sealing us in from the rest of the bathroom. “What do you even want from me? Are you going to come clean about what you’ve been doing those nights in the garden?”

“Besides seeking you out?”

I huffed and turned my head up, hiding the warmth on my cheeks. “No, stop this right now. This is all silly— no— probably worse than that.”

“What a beautiful family you have, a nice husband and two fine boys. You really wish to know my truth?” She hummed, pressing her hand against my abdomen in the already cramped space. I recoiled against the side wall behind me. “It is about the exhibit, and the treasure inside.”

“It doesn’t take a private eye to see that.”

“Do you know why?” She asked, leaning up closer to my face.

“Because you are a crook?”

There was a sudden clack of the bathroom door opening. She pressed harder against me, hand reaching up to cover my mouth. I sucked in a breath through my nose. Outside the door was a small clack of a makeup case, followed by the light pattering of a brush and a concerned humming of a fellow diner. My eyes darted about the stall and the ceiling, but my captor’s gaze didn’t depart my face. After what felt like an entire night shift, the other occupant exited.

“That jewel is my family’s heirloom,” she hissed and pulled away, eyes narrow and held to me like the points of arrows. “The Sudanese tomb? The woman mummy they found in there was my ancestor. My family has been trying to find that tomb for decades, and then some grave-robbing archaeologists working for a big museum come by and snatch it up first.”

“And so you’re just trying to steal it now?”

“They refuse our claim and blood connected to it.”

I shoved the woman away with a push possibly too gentle for the predicament. “And you want me to risk my job and help you with that, now?”

She pulled back and sighed. “You will, unless you would wish me to make a scene. Out there with your husband and the other diners. Asking why a lover of mine actually has been married all along.”

I grabbed at the lock, but her hand reached it first. “You wouldn’t.”

Her head shook. “Who would believe you? After all, every night at the same time, you go off in the dark to meet me, seeking out my lips and my touch. If people around here hear that, it will not only be your husband, but the museum too, to get rid of you.”

I bit my lip, staring at hers. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“Please.” Her tone became calmer. “After your museum, the exhibit will go elsewhere. Another heist to plan, more risk I must place myself in.”

“You have a lot of nerve to say please like that to me after everything else.” I huffed, placing my arms over my chest. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing today. There will be a time. And you will know where to find me.”

“You are a presumptive little—“

Her hand grabbed at the edge of my arm, enough to pull herself up to match her lips against mine. The touch from her at that moment was the lightest it had ever been, and there was a pleasant scent to her I had not gotten before. With a flick of the lock, she exited the stall, then the bathroom entirely.

When I found my table once again in the outside dining, the woman was nowhere to be seen. “Too much coffee this afternoon?” Jamison asked, already several bites into his own dish.

“Yes, and perhaps a bit more excitement than what I’m used to, this early in the day.”

“Mama says she’s excited, too, James!” said my boy to his little brother.

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The Stealing of Things [Chapter 5]

After the strange, alluring woman ran off, I disposed of her bag and the crowbar into one of the trash bins closer to the street, making sure no eyes were on me to see me do it. As much as I was covering my tracks, I was covering hers as well. I felt the hole deepen as I departed yet another shift without making a report, neither on paper to nor to Hank, about the possible break-in.

That night, I made up my mind to at least tell someone, even if it wasn’t the whole story. Maybe to prepare myself for the bigger ordeal. There was only one person, I decided, I could come out to without the risk of being disciplined or fired entirely- the custodian.

I luckily managed to come upon him during my first patrol about the interior, before he left. Sahir was pushing around the wide broom, anchored to the room by his cart full of trash bags and cleaning supplies to remove fingerprints from the glass storage cases. He slowed down and looked me up as I entered the room, then fully stopped in place. I realized I had been walking as if I were ready to tackle him, which looking at me, might have seemed possible to him at that moment. I remembered how to move with a bit less intention, and I defused myself by offering a friendly wave.

“Evening.”

“Good evening, Miss ’Lizabeth.”

I pretended I was admiring his attention to detail on the glass cabinets of fossilized droppings while I worked up to the desired topic. “Just call me Liz, if that’s alright with you. Looking good in here, I bet a lot to clean up after the weekend crowd.”

Sahir shrugged, hands wrapped around the smooth worn-down grain of the broom handle. “Weekend or not, it must get done.”

“Luckily… it only lasts two days.”

The custodian shrugged. “But also our days off are only two.”

I forced out a chuckle and clapped my hands together. “You’re right about that. Speaking of that… when I’m not here, are the other night guards as… thorough as me? Like, do they seem to work as hard?”

“As you?” Sahir rolled his head back and forth. “Nobody. Of course, my time here has not been long. But I see them go around here. They do as they must. But what is there to see, but the same things as always?”

“You’re… right about that,” I nodded furiously. “Except for that new exhibit, huh?”

“Do you ask for a reason?”

I held my breath for a moment. “Just to… make sure I’m not overworking myself. My… husband thinks so.”

“Let him think what he wants, he is not here.”

I nodded with a sigh and almost turned around with a farewell at the tip of my tongue, but another question popped into my mind. “One last thing, just what was on my mind. You aren’t from around here, so maybe you might have a different opinion.”

“Yes?”

“In what situation… would a woman kissing another woman make sense?”

Sahir leaned in harder on the pole of the broom. “Lips to lips? They could be sisters, or maybe really close friends. That is how it goes in my country. They hold hands too, and the men do the same things. It is normal.”

“I see.”

“But if it is because they are lovers, it can make people mad, the people of my country.”

“Oh.”

Sahir shook his head. “It does not matter to me, what people do.”

“Is… that why you no longer live in your country?”

He shrugged again and return to sweeping. “There are many reasons. That could be one. I wish you a good weekend after tonight, Miss ’Lizabeth.”

“To you too, Sahir,” I said, separating myself from him before any other foolishness came out of my mouth.

My heart was racing and palms sweating by the time my night patrol outside came around, but to my surprise, there was not a sound nor a visible movement out of place that night. I even checked the trash can where I had tossed the crowbar and bag the night before. The contents were gone, and I could only hope that it meant the bag had been changed.

I doubled back before the end of my usual patrol path. That spot outside of the anthropology hall was calling me. The bushes were clear, but the spot where I had encountered the woman the previous nights couldn’t help but make me curious. I could see the interior of the building well enough from the path, but from close up, even at my height, the lowest windows were just at eye level. It certainly would have made them hard to jump through, let alone force them open with any sort of tool. Telling myself that, I decided that I would let the whole matter go for the weekend.

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The Stealing of Things [Chapter 4]

That morning after breakfast, just after the kids had got up to ready themselves for school, and just before Jamison plopped his newspaper down, I nearly spoke up. Jamison glanced up, apparently noticing my attention on him before I even noticed myself staring.

“Something on my face, love?”

I jerked myself to attention and shook my head. “No, just staring off into nothing,” I answered without thinking.

Why haven’t I told anyone about the strange woman, yet? Anything to get it off my chest. No, if I tell Jamison before the people at work, they’ll wonder why I had been holding onto it for so long.

“Oh, so I’m nothing now?” My husband teased, smirk on his face and hands pressing the ruffled paper across the edge of the table.

“Of course not!” I patted at the back of his hand. He took my hand in turn, before I could retract, and laid several little kisses at the back of it, working his way up beyond my wrist.

Several pattering footsteps found their way across the linoleum and into my ears. “They’re doing mommy-daddy things!” Jamie cackled from the doorway, James not far behind.

Jamison pulled his head up from my arm and stomped the ground to do his bear-like imitation, ready to strike at the little ones. “Well, you got ready real quick, didn’t ya’,” He said, arms out wide. “If it smells like you didn’t brush your teeth, you’re gonna get eaten!”

The two boys shrieked and ran off down the hall toward the front door. Jamison leaned out into the hall after them. “Get your shoes on and we’ll be out the door.”

“’Kay!” the call returned.

I watched the clock pass from one minute to the next, counting down my quiet sleeping hours. With the husband’s own time being eaten up as well, I pushed myself up to clear the dishes from the table. My hands were full when I felt a tug at my waist, something a little more forceful to turn me around. Jamison appeared in my vision, taking advantage of my tableware predicament to plant a heavy kiss on my lips.

As my air supply and balance were drained, somehow in unison, I used the tip of my toes to counter. “Whoa, mama,” Jamison pulled back, feeling the sudden, albeit padded, tip of my slippers on his shin. “Okay, I shall be going now. Have a good sleep.”

There was a faint remnant of coffee on my lips, but when I blinked, it wasn’t Jamison’s face that popped into my head.

---

Night came and my shift began. I don’t think I ever put on my uniform faster than I did that night. What was I so excited for? As soon as I stepped out of the locker room, the thought of having to explain this multi-day predicament to my superior caught up to me. I slowed my step, running the possible patterns of words through my head, but I was already being chatted up at the front security desk before I could come up with something.

The swing-shifter waiting to pass his responsibilities to me was chatting up Hank, already settled into the desk chair behind the tall counter.

“You’re here early, sweet-cheeks,” he said, glancing at his watch. “This mean I can kick off early?”

Hank leaned back and stretched his arm up behind his head. “Fine. Might as well, since you’re stuck here for the weekend crowd tomorrow, opening day for the Tomb exhibit too.”

“Lovely,” came the shrug and reply. “But, you don’t have to tell me twice.”

Hank yawned and nodded and shifted back to face the front entrance, the doors already closed, but not yet locked at that time of night. “Well,” he welcomed my presence as he often did. “Aren’t we lucky to not have to deal with the crowds?”

“I can’t complain,” I sighed and shrugged, glancing at my wristwatch to make sure I made the first patrol time. “But my family wanted to come see the new exhibit during the week. So I will be getting a taste of it, nonetheless.”

Hank nodded and huffed. “Ah, the business of a young family. Still don’t know how you manage it. You had boys, eh? Why a museum? The school of theirs not have a sports team?”

“Well… they’re in elementary. They get physical education for now.”

“Good,” Hank grunted. “Toughen them up while you can,” he added, turning back to me, “Well, seeing their mom, sure they’re pretty tough anyways.”

I took the comment as a compliment and glanced at my watch one final time. “Well… better go off for the patrol, now, huh?”

“Ah, you’re right there.”

My feet took me forward about my winding path through the various wood-laden rooms of the museum, but my mind was elsewhere. I kept looking toward the windows, unsure if I was hoping or dreading to see something outside. So distracted I was that I nearly stumbled right over the unsuspecting person in my path.

The white-coated curator, one of the older ones, looked back and up at me, leaning back at first, and then stepping away like a guard giving way to a king. “My apologies, was I in your warpath?”

“Huh?” I composed myself. I noticed I had stopped right at the entrance to the Anthropology hall, where the new exhibit had been set up. Then I noticed the wide, messily-folded cloth on the ground, held at the far end by the night custodian.

Sahir was usually pushing around a wide broom at the end of the night, cleaning the last bits of mess from the day. It was the first time I had seen him at another task. The curator shook his head and leaned down to pick up the dropped end. “How can you secure this place if you cannot look where you are going?”

“It is my fault completely, I should be certainly paying more attention,” I said, lowering my head, even if it was still above the curator’s height.

Sahir, from some country somewhere far away where the people were tanned and spoke with a rattling accent, shrugged and laughed. “She was probably keeping her eyes on the jewel there,” he said, jerking his head to the display case. “Worth more than me, I heard you say.”

The curator huffed and took up the mostly folded square of cloth from the custodian before stomping off. Sahir stepped back to the far wall and retrieved his tool from the corner, pushing it all the way up to the new display case. I settled in beside him, looking at the fairly normal-looking, blue, mostly transparent stone inside the thick glass case. “If it’s worth more than you… that means it’s worth more than any of us,” I said with a shrug.

Sahir chuckled and returned to his sweeping. “Aye, so it could be, so it could be.”

At last, the hour hit when I was to travel outside to the relative dark of the gardens. I began early, ready to move about at a slower pace than normal, maybe to see if I could get the jump on anyone before they did the same to me. I held my flashlight in my hand, not illuminated, but ready to turn on, or even to strike if the need arrived.

I couldn’t help but notice the sound of my footsteps on the concrete paths. Warpath, the curator had said. I attempted to walk more silently, perhaps more ladylike, to keep myself from being heard. Alas, the heavy boots of my uniform didn’t wish to cooperate. To be able to fully abreast of my surroundings, I would have to stop, listen, and watch. Just like that Sean Connery as James bond, I would hug every corner and scan every direction before acting or moving. But it didn’t take being a secret agent to come across my nemesis once again.

The bushes outside the anthropology exhibit rustled and breathed. With a few quieter-than-usual footsteps, I moved forward, then pounced, flashlight beam suddenly tackling the darkness of the planter. “Don’t move!” The owner of the dark hair stood and shifted back to face me. “I said don’t move!”

“You’ve caught me,” her eyes teased, looking me up and down and up again. “I thought I was going to have to break in there to see you.”

I studied her face, took in her words, then jerked my light down to her feet where a dark sack lay on the ground. “If you’re breaking in, it certainly isn’t for me.”

“Ah, you did catch me. Of course, I can already meet up with you out here.”

I sent the strange woman back against the wall of the building with a shove to her slim shoulder, enough to get at her bag of supplies. I held her at bay there with the heft of the flashlight while I bent down to kick it open. Inside, I found a small crowbar.

In a swift motion, I picked up the tool and presented it incriminatingly before her eyes. “So, you are trying to break in?”

“It was worth a try,” the woman shrugged.

“The windows have alarms, you know.” That was a lie. Some of the displays had alarms on their cases, but most windows were just held with a simple lock.

“If that’s the case, why do they need folk like you?” She smirked.

I waved the tool back and forth in my hand. “So we can stop people before they cause property damage.”

The woman took a step forward, placing her hand on the head of the flashlight. “So, what happens now? Do you call the police? I’m not technically breaking and entering. And I don’t think I’m trespassing, since you’ve been so kind to allow me to stay here before. Are you going to hold me here somehow, or just carry me over your shoulder to a phone?”

“Talking isn’t going to get you out of this,” I said, tossing the crowbar back onto the path with a clank.

The woman smirked. Before I could react, her hands found my shoulders. I can’t remember if she pulled herself up, or she pulled me down, but my body felt heavy and our lips met somewhere in the middle. It went on longer than the first time, or maybe it was just the lingering moisture on my lips, but in the middle of it, my eyes had closed. When they were open once more, the woman had ducked under my arm and escaped my grasp entirely.

“That’s better than talking, now, isn’t it?” She called back, disappearing off into the night once more.

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The Stealing of Things [Chapter 3]

Was I failing at my job, I asked myself, after letting the strange woman leave the garden once more without intervening? What was she there for? Certainly not me. It didn’t seem like she was trying to break in, but then again, I’ve heard of people checking out a place before breaking and entering. Casing, is that what it’s called? I suppose maybe I was being cased myself, allowing such a perpetrator to know exactly when my patrol schedule was.

The uncertainty kept my mind moving back and forth like my more regular nightly patrols, mostly finding nothing. Before I knew it, I was at home at the breakfast table, having scrambled eggs passed around.

“Liz?” Jamison was holding the pan out, ready to deposit the golden curds on my plate. “I can’t feed you if you’re hovering over your plate, dear.”

“Mama’s got her el-bows on the table,” James enunciated carefully, trying his best to replicate my scolding.

“I do, huh,” I said, pulling myself up and allowing myself to be served. “Where are my manners?”

My older son, paused shoveling down his own eggs for a moment to quip. “Did you leave them somewhere?”

“Maybe in my work clothes, Jamie,” I attempted to joke.

Jamison chucked and sat down the now empty pan on the stove to begin eating his own food. “Your mom has to act big and scary to make sure any thieves who try and break into the museum at night get tossed back out. Although knowing her, she would still thank them for the visit.”

I nodded with a sigh and began eating up. Jamison pulled the newspaper up off the table and hid himself behind it, taking in the news continued off the front page. After the shoveling of food off plates had died down, James spoke up, finger jutted across the table at the back of the paper. “It’s da jewel! From the… from the…”

“From the Tomb,” Jamie finished his sentence.

I found my eyes trailing up to the carefully crafted advertisement for the museum itself, a cartoon depiction of a multi-faceted jewel, surrounded by caricatures of ancient royalty and stone pillars. Not just Egypt- The Ancient Sudanese Tomb and its Riches Unveiled, read the title.

Jamison flipped the back page around before him. “So it is, your mom’s very own museum. Let’s see,” he hummed, studying and reading the smaller text at the bottom. “The tomb of an ancient princess unearthed, her riches untouched by grave robbers. Come see the exhibit before it leaves us! Opening day this Sunday.”

“This Sunday!” James bounced in his seat. “The jewel! The jewel! What day is it today?”

I sighed and shook my head, but James was quick to answer before me. “Well, I don’t know if this Sunday will work. Your mom works the night before.”

“I do,” I nodded, trying to not commit to anything.

“And it will be busy that first opening day,” my husband added, looking at me. “Tuesday… you don’t work that morning, and there will be less people during a weekday afternoon. Right?”

I took in a short breath, nearly inhaling the last spoonful of eggs. “Well. I suppose we can make that work. Alright boys, go and wash those faces and get some socks on so you’re ready for school!”

Clattering their seats around, the boys scattered and left the kitchen to me and my husband. I stood, grabbing my own plate along with the boys’. Jamison spoke up as I got them to the sink, not ready to respond. “Should I not have suggested that? I guess heading back to your work on your day off isn’t the most exciting thing…”

“No.” I answered curtly at first.

Jamison folded the paper down and jumped to help me. “I only suggested it because they’ve heard plenty about the museum all these months, but haven’t gotten a chance to see it. I’ll tell you what, I can take them by myself and leave you here to sleep.”

“No, no,” I forced a smile across my face and into my voice. “I want to go, see it with the guides and all the lights on. And it’s only one time, especially with this tomb exhibit only being temporary too.”

---

That night, I took my first patrol as normal, just before closing. I felt myself being extra careful, for some reason, even within the nice, evenly-lit halls. My eyes kept trailing off toward the windows, perhaps hoping— or fearing— to see the strange suspect, tracking yet another of my patrols. Yet nothing but the well-maintained hedges and topiaries could be seen in the low light outside.

Thinking about the outing here to the museum on my upcoming day off made me realize that, some time during my weekend, another of my coworkers would be out taking my patrols. Now, ever since my employment started, I had been the one to consistently go about and check on things while the other guard manned the post at the main entrance, reading the paper or listening to the radio. Frankly, it didn’t faze me to stretch my legs and get a few bouts of exercise during the night, so the informal arrangement was maintained. But what if the strange woman was spotted by one of them, exposing my failure to keep watch of the grounds?

By the end of my first round, I was ready with my carefully-chosen words to explain that I may have possibly seen a strange woman perhaps skulking around the garden if I had not been there to shoo her off. But fate decided that I was not able to pass on that sleight of words.

Aside from the other guard, the slightly older and thinning-haired Hank, some of the curators were marking their territories in the main entrance hall. “Ah, good timing, Liz. Everything look good out there?”

“Yeah, Hank, same as always,” I nodded and lied so easily. “Is something going out tonight?”

“Man… or woman the desk here, would you? The boys here have asked me to help them… escort this thing. Get it in place all nice and secure.”

Up from the basement elevator beyond the normally locked and blocked double doors there in the hall came a rolling metal cart, pushed by one of the young, university-fresh curators. The older expert types helped guide it effortlessly through the opened doorway. Sitting on the cart was a waist-height display case draped in a sheet. Through the bright ceiling light, I could see the silhouette of something boldly geometrically shaped on a fine, thin stand.

“Sure, Hank. Do your thing,” I said, shifting back around the desk to take up his well-used wooden seat. He nodded at me, and I offered him his preferred military-style salute to send him off with the other staff.

As my hand left my brow, I swear I saw the flash of a face through the side window of the hall. By the time I stood, whatever I had seen was long gone. Waiting for the rhythmic sound of the rolling cart on the marble floors to disappear down the hall, I jumped back out from the security desk and searched the darkness beyond the windows for any signs of… whoever it could have been. With no remnant of anything, really, I returned back to my duty at the desk.

By the time Hank had returned from his task with the curators and the new installation, the regular time for my exterior patrol was over. Hank shrugged and tried to explain why it wasn’t a big deal, but something— my responsibility, maybe something else, forced me to run outside to complete it as usual. Would you be surprised to hear me say that not a single oddity was found that night?

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The Stealing of Things [Chapter 2]

I did not go searching any further for the individual after they disappeared from sight. The entrances around the block into our gardens are guarded only by the discouragement of chain barriers with hangings signs on them noting that the facilities are closed for the night and that they are indeed patrolled by someone like myself.

I was sure it was a woman… maybe because of how petite she… they were, or maybe the softness or delicate smell of her approach.

I did not mention the woman to my coworker at the security booth, nor did I make a report in my written log. Why did I not record a report? She was likely just someone living on the street, trying to find a bathroom. But she didn’t seem like someone homeless. That wasn’t the feel or smell of one of those people. What was she wearing? I can only recall seeing the small, plain face and only for a moment before she… She must have been wearing all black because I couldn’t see her until she was in the light of the flashlight. Her hair was all black, as well.

The thought of the… indignity imposed upon me by that person kept me distracted all throughout the remainder of my shift. When the morning light brought about my second and final patrol of the grounds, I passed by the spot I saw the olive woman earlier in the night. Not a sign remained there of the struggle I had undergone, nor of any other wrongdoings the woman may have been attempting there in the dark hours of the night.

By the time I was home and making breakfast for my family, somehow the thought had been pushed to the back of my mind, replaced by the undeniable fulfillment that only being a mother and a wife can bring. Not long after, I was in bed, drifting off with all my cares on hold.

Some might worry that with my odd work schedule, I don’t have much quality time with my family. It is quite the contrary, with my parental blessings beginning with the two little ones serving as my alarm clock most afternoons. Don’t worry, Jamison makes sure that they don’t come barging in too early.

After dinner and family time, there is plenty of evening left over to read bedtime stories, tuck the kids into bed, and get one-on-one time with my better half. Being… intimate is hard with different bedtimes, but at the same time, we feel as if the two little ones we have so far are plenty.

Jamison and I were watching Johnny Carson on the living room sofa when a grasp of his hand on my shoulder and a kiss to the cheek brought suddenly back the memories of the night before. The hair stood on my neck and I reflexively pulled away. Jamison gave me a downtrodden look while I tried to calm my goosebumps. “Something the matter?”

I gritted my teeth and leaned back against his arm. “I don’t… look like a man, do I?”

“Liz,” He said with a concerned grimace, ready to defend my honor, shaking his head. “Was it someone from work who said that?”

“It was… It’s something I’ve heard before.”

Jamison’s lips curled up into a grin, and his arm snaked around my back and under my arm, taking up my breast to pump and gyrate it in his palm. “All it takes is one little look at these puppies and there’s no way they can say that.”

Despite the flattery, I pushed his arm away before I slid across the cushion slightly further away. “Yeah, sure, but I hope those men can see a woman for something other than her chest.”

Jamison shrugged. “I don’t take it your uniform at work is terribly… flattering.”

I looked down at my body, imagining the dark tan shirt. “Well, they obviously didn’t have one to fit a woman. And to fit these… puppies, as you say, I have to wear a terribly large one, tucked into my slacks for miles.”

“Oh, lovely,” Jamison said playfully, dragging his hand down my thigh.

“You stop that right now,” I said, the sound of the late show still going in the background. “Just let me relax and watch a little bit more before I have to go.”

Later that night, my shift at the museum began like any other. My evening patrol put me past the hallway where, just outside, I had been violated the previous night. I stood at the thick-paned windows, looking for any sign of… anything outside. The bushes glowed slightly in the hallway lights. They stood, rooted, completely still and certainly absent of any wrong-doers.

Right there was the hallway just outside the new exhibit with the things from the tomb— still behind curtains and heavy barriers and carefully-worded signs to redirect interest. The assumed resident of the tomb and what their origin or significance was had yet to be explained to me and I assumed that it never would be, being simply one of many to guard it. The workmen had been there several nights previous, setting up the display cases, most likely still empty there under the dusty and sun-aged curtains.

The centerpiece of the upcoming display, a fact much circulated by the museum, was the royal jewel that had come out of the tomb, something quite large and impressive if I had to guess. It had been delivered a week or so before, in the dark hours, complete with its own security outside our employ. I had to guess it was in the Museum’s vault at that point, being prepared to be shown off, but to me, it was just another thing to look after.

If I were ever to come back during the day for a normal tour, with Jamison and the two kids, I might even be able to be somewhat of a tour guide, even if it were only to know of the layout, free of any knowledge of the exhibits. Not that the chances of waking up before noon and returning to my place of work were that enticing. Maybe once the kids were older, I told myself in that moment.

Watching the clock at the security booth for midnight prepared me to head out on my patrol of the grounds. What was usually a quiet stroll in the fresh air under the stars had me tense, flashlight in hand with the beam shining across my field of view. Bathed in shadows, the flower beds and topiaries and statues were more imposing than normal, and I had to remind myself that it was not the dark I was supposed to be afraid of, but the things or people that lurked inside it.

Not far from the previous meeting spot, I slowed. The bushes were silent, leaving only my heavy footsteps to make a sound. The interior lights shining through the windows were just enough to affect my eyes which had adjusted to the dark. And I think they knew that as well.

“You’re right on time,” a silky but low voice spoke behind me, hiding an implacable accent.

I jerked back, flashlight in one hand and instinctively covering my mouth with the other. “Time… for what?” Were the only words I was able to get out past my hand.

The beam caught the face of the person— the same olive face as the previous night— causing her to step back out of the glare. She spoke up with what was none other than a woman’s voice. “So, do you patrol the gardens at this time every night?”

“That’s… not something for you to be worried about.”

“I’m not worried. You’re not armed,” she said under her dark clothing and dark, smooth-looking hair, arms at her sides in a relaxed state. “And this is a public space, isn’t it?”

I waved the flashlight out in front of myself like a lion tamer with a wooden chair. “Not down in the bushes. And certainly not if you’re going to… going to… attack people!”

“Attack?” She laughed, head leaning back slightly. “Silly. There is nothing going on like that. I will go now.”

With a flash of shiny hair in the beam of the flashlight, she waved about, the darkness seeming ready to swallow her up as if was where she had always belonged.

“You— you wait there, right now!” I said, imitating a tone I had taken before with my children.

A sliver of a face, like the crescent moon, glanced back but said nothing.

“Don’t think I am a man or something! I’m a woman, you know!”

A set of thin fingers found her lips, before a kiss to them was sent my way through the night, halting my approach. “I can see that quite plainly.”

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