The Engagement Ring(Elaine Faber) Mark slammed the door and threw his coat onto his mother’s living room floor. He slumped onto the sofa in a huff. His mother came in from the kitchen. “What’s the matter?” she asked, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. “You look like you just lost your best friend.”

Mark turned toward her. “You might say that. I’ve been robbed. What am I going to do? He took everything; my wallet, my money. He even took your ring!”

“My ring? The one I gave you this morning? I thought you were going to save it for Martha’s Christmas present.”

Mark wrung his hands, shaking his head from side to side, as though his denial could make the tragedy go away. His thoughts were on the lost week’s pay and his mother’s engagement ring.

“Well, tell me what happened? Why did you take the ring with you today?” his mother asked.

“I was going to take it to the jewelers after work to have it cleaned and have the prongs checked. By the time I cashed my check at the bank and got to the jeweler’s, they were closed.” Mark rubbed his forehead in frustration. He kicked the side of the coffee table, knocking over a cup. Spilled coffee spread across the table, turning the edges of the doily brown as the coffee wicked into the cloth.

“Calm down, Mark. Tell me what happened. Are you OK? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No, just my pride. I was near the jewelry store, walking toward the bus and he stepped out from an alley. He had his hand in his pocket like he had a gun. I don’t know for sure, but it looked like he did. He said,
‘empty your pockets and give me everything.’ I just stood there, dumfounded, you know, and then I pulled out my wallet and handed it to him. He said, “Empty your pockets,’ almost like he knew I had something more in there. I didn’t want to give him the ring, but he kept jerking his hand, like he was gonna’ shoot or something. So I emptied my pockets. He took my wallet and the ring box and ran back down the alley. I just stood there with my mouth open. I couldn’t believe what had happened.”

“Oh Mark. The main thing is, you’re OK. You could have been killed.”

Mark shook his head. “Mom. I feel awful. It was your engagement ring; the one Dad gave you. I was going to propose to Martha on Christmas Eve and give her the ring. Now it’s gone. My wallet had two week’s pay in it. I just don’t understand why these things happen.”

“We may never understand God’s master plan. We have to have faith that all things work together for good. We just have to trust there’s a reason why bad things happen.”

“That’s easy to say, but a lot harder to do. What good could come out of losing my paycheck and losing your engagement ring? I can’t even make my car payment.”

“Don’t worry about your car payment. I’ve got my social security check and a little bit put aside. I’ll give you the money you need. As for the ring; I have a feeling that Martha would say ‘yes’ if you put a paper cigar band around her finger. I think she’ll just be glad that all you lost was the ring. Now come here, give me a hug and stop worrying.”

Mark put his arms around his mother and blinked, holding back the tears stinging the back of his eyes. He refused to let his mother see the depth of guilt he felt for allowing someone to take the ring from him. He should have fought back. He should have chased the thief. He should have known better than to carry the ring in that neighborhood after dark. He grit his teeth. Never again! Hopefully there won’t be a next time, but if there is… next time, things will be different.


Anthony crouched behind the dumpster, his heart beating wildly. He sniffed, pushed his dirty hair behind his ear and wiped his nose on the back of his ragged sleeve. He pulled his fist from his pocket, where he had shoved the wallet and the ring box. He was sick of the life. He was sick of being hungry, sick of being cold, not having a place to sleep at night. He was sick of hot dogs and beans at the Homeless Shelter. He was sick of the plastic Christmas Tree with the aluminum ornaments by the front door of the mission. He was sick of Christmas music in the stores and Santa Claus ringing that damn bell in front of a Salvation Army bucket. It all reminded him of home. He couldn’t stop his memories, the way it used to be last year, before he quit high school and ran away from home...

He remembered his parents hiking through the snow and cutting down a Christmas tree. Mom decorated the tree with beautiful ornaments, made hot chocolate and they watched “It’s A Wonderful Life” on TV. There were presents under the tree and Christmas carolers walking up and down the street. On Christmas Eve, they would go to church where actors performed the nativity scene. The newest baby in the congregation would always be the baby Jesus.

What went wrong? How could things with Mom and Dad get so bad that life on the street was preferable to their home and their rules? It all seemed to make sense when I left home and now, look at me. What I fool I was. He shook his head to dispel the pleasant memories.

This isn’t what he had planned. He had planned to go to the big city, find a job, rent an apartment, buy a nice car. None of it worked. He couldn’t find a job. He ran out of money and ended up on the street, eating at the homeless shelter and sleeping at the mission. Look at me now, hiding behind a dumpster, a common thief, homeless, hungry, and the stupidest kid in the city. He hadn’t wanted to do it. He had to rob the guy, even though it was Christmas. Anthony pulled the wallet and the jewelry box out of his pocket and counted the money; $310. He opened the jewelry box. The light in the alley glinted off the square set diamond.

With the money in the wallet and the money he could get for the ring at the pawn shop, there should be enough for a bus ticket. He was done with the life. He was going home.

Anthony walked to a phone booth on the corner and dialed long distance. The phone rang three times. “Hello? It’s me. Um…Mom… I’ve been so stupid. Can I come home?”


At 3:00 PM that afternoon, the bell above the pawn shop door jingled as George opened the door and pulled his hat off his balding head. Guitars, bicycles, antique pedal cars and other items hung around the ceiling. An older man leaned against the glass case displaying watches, transistor radios and jewelry.

“Help ya?” the clerk asked. “What can I show ya’?”

“Just looking. Thought I might see if you had any nice rings today. And don’t try to pull a fast one. I used to work in a jewelry store. I know a real diamond from a chip a’ glass.”

The older man’s shoulders stiffened as he inserted the key into the locked cabinet. “If you don’t trust me, how come ya’ came in here? I never tried ta’ pass off a fake diamond for the real thing. I don’t work that way. I’m an honest man. Now, do ya’ want to see a diamond ring or not?”

George scanned the rings and pointed. “That one, the third from the left, second row. How much is that one?”

“Nice choice. I just got that one this morning. Kid said he needed the money for his mom’s funeral. Heard that one before, but it ain’t for me ta’ judge, so I give him a few bucks for it. I can let ya’ have it for $200 bucks.”

“Sounds like a lot a’ money, but let me see it.”

“So yer’ gonna’ take the plunge and get hitched, huh?”

“Nah! Ain’t gonna’ marry nobody. She’s talkin’ about goin’ out with other guys. I gotta’ put a ring on her finger to keep her from strayin’ outta’ my pasture. Women!”

George turned the ring over a few times and held it up to the light.

“I’ll take it. He laughed nervously and pulled a bundle of twenties from the breast pocket of his Warehouse for Stout-Man’s jacket. He counted out ten bills and laid them on the counter.

“Any tax?”

“Nah. Long as it’s cash, no need fer’ tax.”

“Do I get a receipt?” George asked, picking up the ring.

“The way I figure it, if there’s no need fer’ tax, there sure ain’t no need fer a receipt.” The old man gathered the bills from the counter and stuffed them in his pants pocket.

George smiled and pushed open the door. The bell tinkled over his head as the cold air struck his face. He shoved the hat on his balding head and muttered, “Sure great doin’ business with an honest man.” His hand closed around the ring box. He stooped his shoulders against the wind and walked toward his car.


Lisa pulled her neck scarf over her bleached blond hair as she and George strolled along the snowy sidewalk in front of Macy’s Department store windows. She stopped from time to time to admire a Christmas display.

“Oh, Georgie, look at that silver dress. I’d look smashing in that dress.” She put her arm through George’s arm. “What are you going to get me for Christmas, Georgie? Will you get me that pretty dress?”

“No, I’m not going to buy you that dumb dress. I got somethin’ nice for ya’ though. I was waitin’ for a romantic moment, but I guess this is as good as any.” He held the ring box out to her.

Lisa turned toward him. “What is it, Georgie, for me?” She grabbed the box and opened it. Her eyes gleamed as bright as the diamond. She slipped it on her finger.

“Oh, Georgie, it’s beautiful. I thought you’d never ask. We can drive over to Reno tonight! It’s only a few hours away.” She reached her hand up to bring his head down to her level for a kiss. He pulled away and pushed her away.

“Knock it off, Lisa. You know I hate it when you act all romantic and stupid out in the street. Try to pretend you’re a lady for once, will ya’?” George scowled. He was immediately sorry when a hurt look crossed her face.

“Look, I’m sorry Baby. Come here and give me a kiss. You know I love ya’, Baby. You’re my fi-ance’ now, aren’t ya?”

Lisa sighed with relief and wrapped her arms around his stout middle and tilted her head for a kiss. George lightly touched his lips to her forehead. Lisa jerked away. “You call that a kiss? You didn’t answer me. Can we go to Reno tonight and get married or not?” Uncertainty crossed Lisa’s face.

George hesitated and walked in silence as Lisa looked longingly from George to her ring and back to his face again.

“Well, it’s like this, Baby. Of course I want ta’ marry ya’, but I gotta’ lot of things goin’ on right now and hadn’t exactly thought about gettin’ married right away. I thought maybe you’d be happy bein’ my fi-ance’ for a while… just until I sort out some stuff, you know. Maybe in a year or two…”

“A year or two? Are you crazy? If I don’t get married and have some babies pretty soon, I’ll be too old to …”

“Babies? What babies? First we’re talkin’ about getting’ married and now you’re talkin’ babies? I didn’t plan on havin’ no …”

Lisa’s face, which had been pale from the cold, turned pink. She pulled the ring from her finger and held it up. Her voice rose to a shriek as she delivered her farewell address. “That’s what I thought. You thought all you had to do was give me a pretty ring and that would keep me quiet. Well, it won’t work, George. I’m not waiting for a year or two. I’d never marry you now, if you begged on your hands and knees. You take this ring and…”

Lisa threw the ring into the street where it disappeared into the two inch layer of snow. She turned and ran down the street, raised her arm and shouted, “Taxi.”

A bright yellow cab pulled to the curb. George watched as Lisa and the cab drove down the street and disappeared around the corner.
Jingle Bells Chorus echoed through the night as George ran frantically back and forth into the street, dodging between the cars, kicking at the snow. A cab driver called 911 to report a crazy fat man dancing around in traffic, trying to kill himself, in front of Macy’s Department Store.

A police car arrived and two patrolmen each took one of George’s arms, and pushed him into their patrol car.

“But you don’t understand. I was looking for a diamond ring.” George’s explanation fell on deaf ears.

“Uh huh. Now come along, buddy. You can sleep it off in jail. Maybe Santa Claus will put a diamond ring in your stocking tonight if you’re a good boy…”


Children rose early Christmas morning and before the sun had barely reached the tops of the trees, you could hear the squeals of kids as they rode their new bikes and skateboards through the neighborhood.

A flock of crows roosted in a tree outside of town. They awoke to the sound of laughter. Little clouds puffed from the children’s nose with each breath. Peals of laughter rang through the snow as they swooshed down the hill in bright red and yellow sleds. The snow stopped falling and the crows welcomed the sun’s warmth as it spread into the branches where they had huddled through the long cold night.

The largest crow fluffed his feathers, disturbed by the children. He rose from the branch and sailed across the treetops, over the church steeple, over the fountain in the middle of the park and across the town square, now bright with blinking Christmas lights. The stores were closed and streets were bare except for a few cars left overnight, now buried in little snow covered mounds.

The crow landed on Macy’s roof, warming his cold feathers in the bright sunlight, fascinated by the blinking lights on the street beneath him. Green, orange, red. Green, orange, red. As the sun rose higher in the winter sky, the snow turned to slush and rivulets of water from the melting snow trickled into the gutters.

Something twinkled in the slushy snow, attracting the crow’s attention. He cocked his head as the sun glinted off the ring, lying in a melting pile of snow.

The crow swooped down and picked up the bright new toy in his beak. He lifted up from the street, flew across the tops of the shops, over the park and back toward the tree on the hillside where the children played until their daddy’s came and carried their sleds back home for Christmas dinner.


On Christmas morning, the hard jail bed creaked under George’s weight, as he waited for his attorney to bail him out. His lawyer was busy with his family and would not come to the jail until his kids had opened their Christmas presents and the family left their holiday celebration.

The owner of the pawn shop waited arraignment in the cell block next door, charged with accepting and selling stolen property; the result of a long term stakeout and sting operation.

Lisa sat sniffling in her girlfriend’s apartment, wondering if she had made the right decision and whether a “George in the bush” was better than no George at all.

Mark proposed Christmas morning and Martha agreed to be his wife. As Mark’s mother predicted, she happily said, “yes” without a ring. “All I need is you, Mark,” she said. “Don’t worry about the stolen ring. We’ll get by just fine. We’ll buy a set of simple gold bands when we get married.”

Mark made a face, still disappointed and angry at the loss. Then he smiled and kissed her again. “Someday I’ll put a beautiful diamond on your finger. I won’t rest until it happens, no matter how long it takes.”

Church bells rang as Mark, his mother and Martha came out of the church after Christmas morning services and walked down the snowy sidewalk toward their car.

The crow flew low over the churchyard, the ring held tightly in his teeth. He circled the parking lot, attracted by the movement of the people beneath him.

A car backed out of its parking place across the parking lot. The couple waved to Mark and a child rolled down the window and tossed a wadded up gum wrapper onto the pavement. The gum wrapper glinted in the bright sun as it hit the ground.

Martha held Mark’s hand. He leaned down to steal a quick kiss.

“Merry Christmas, almost wife.”

“Merry Christmas, soon to be husband,” she answered.

The crow circled back to investigate and as he dove toward the new shiny object that had taken his attention the ring dropped from his beak and landed on the sidewalk in front of Mark and Martha. Their eyes moved toward the object that had fallen from the sky.

“What was that?” they said in unison, as both reached for the object that lay slightly buried in the snow. They looked in amazement at the ring in Mark’s hand.

“It’s my engagement ring!” Mother said. “How on earth….”

Mark looked up toward the heavens as the crow flew over the steeple. He had no interest in the discarded ring and was satisfied with his new plaything, a shiny gum wrapper.

“It’s like it fell from Heaven,” he whispered. He placed the ring on Martha’s finger as he pulled her into his arms.


After 26 hours, the bus approached its destination; the bus station in Omaha, Nebraska. Young Anthony leaned wearily against the seat of the bus, nervously pushing the long hair from his face. Do they really want me back? He thought. Will they ever forgive me for the way I hurt them? Will things be different this time? Maybe they’d just let him stay long enough to get his feet under him. Maybe someday, he could make them understand. If he could get a job, maybe he could pay back the money for the ring and the wallet he stole from the man in Los Angeles...

Anthony’s mom and dad paced in the waiting room, anxiously watching as each bus pulled into the bus terminal. Is this the bus returning my son? Does he really want to come home? Will he still be my little boy? Will things be different this time?

At home, hastily bought presents addressed to Anthony were stacked beneath the Christmas tree. New tee shirts and jeans hung in the closet. A large brown dog lay by the door, as though he knew his young master was coming home. A huge banner reading “Welcome home, Son,” hung on the garage door, and a roasted turkey was baking in the oven as the bus pulled into the station.

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