CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

THE CHINESE CALLED 1978 the Year of the Horse—a year of energy, health, and easy disposition. For Timothy Patrick O’Rourke and his wife, Cheryl, 1978 was a very good year.

Much had happened to them in the past five years. He finished his graduate work in English, and they were expecting their first child. The memories of the war were finding a space to rest in his mind.

“Mail’s here,” Cheryl said.

“Anything for me?” Timothy asked.

“Yes. It looks like a letter from a publishing house—Cahners. It’s a big envelope.”

“That sounds promising. Let me see it. Yep, that’s the one I’ve been waiting for.”

Timothy stared at the envelope in a Zen-like trance, taking in every aspect of the experience. He ran his fingers along the outer edges and weighed it in his palms.

“Open it. Open it.” Cheryl’s excitement bubbled.

“It’s heavier than all of the rejections I’ve gotten. It’s kind of like getting the acceptance packet to graduate school. You know it’s more than a thanks-anyway letter.”

“C’mon, open it,” she said.

He sliced open the envelope with a pencil he had been using. He carefully removed the contents, a packet of pages, and saw the word he hoped for. Contract.

“They want my manuscript!”

“Oh my God, that’s wonderful, Timothy.” Cheryl put her arms around him and held on. “What did they say?”

“They like it. It’s exactly the kind of thing they publish, but it does need a little work.”

“You expected that, right?”

“Sure, but the key word is a little.” He continued to read. “My God, they’re offering me a five thousand dollar advance against royalties.” At this, Timothy threw the papers in the air, and they floated around Timothy and Cheryl as they hugged and hollered.

“This calls for a celebration,” she said.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Mantia’s, right?”

“Where else?”

“Get your jacket. Let’s go. We have a stop to make on the way.”

“Where?”

“Le Rive Gauche. I have to tell Louie.”

“Can’t you tell him when you go in to work tomorrow?”

“No, this can’t wait.”

“Let’s go,” said Cheryl.

They drove to the bookstore, joking, laughing, and enjoying the moment. They opened the door, and the bell announced their arrival. Louie looked up from the book he was studying with a magnifying glass, The Battle of Adversus. His vision had deteriorated over the past five years Timothy worked for him. He squinted at the couple.

“Timothy. Cheryl. It’s good to see you. How’s that baby doing?”

“Kicking, as usual. He’s as impatient as his daddy,” Cheryl said.

“Come on now,” Timothy said. The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear.

“So what’s the occasion? Why the visit? You don’t work until tomorrow,” Louie said.

“I got a letter today from Cahners Publishing. They want my book,” Timothy beamed.

“Congratulations. I told you it would sell. It makes sense they would buy it. It’s in their wheelhouse.”

“You were right telling me to send a query to them,” Timothy said.

“Well, I do know a little about this business.”

“A lot. Don’t sell yourself short. And, they offered me a generous advance. I’m hoping it’s enough to buy something back from you,” Timothy said.

Louis smiled. “You want the Hemingway book, right?”

“Yes,” Timothy said.

“I’m not surprised. You look at it every month,” Louie said.

“It reminds me of our friend, Hoffen.”

“I understand. Why don’t we do this? I will let you hang on to it as long as you safeguard it in somewhere special in your home. Protect it. Guard it. Treasure it. That’s all I ask.”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying,” Timothy said.

“I’m saying it’s my gift to you and your lovely wife. You will need that advance for the baby. Besides, my eyesight is so bad these days I have trouble reading the signature anymore. I know you will treasure it as much as I do.”

Timothy stood silent and then darted to Louie and gave him a hug.

“Let me go back and get this for you,” Louie said. He turned and walked to the back room of the shop.

Timothy glanced at the book Louie had been reading and smiled. He remembered Hoffen talked about it once. Louie returned.

“Here you go. Enjoy.”

“Thank you, Louie. I didn’t expect this.”

“I know. You’re the only person other than me who values this book as much as I do. It’s fitting you should have it. I don’t need the money. Besides, if you develop a taste for these old, rare volumes, maybe you will get in on this side of the book business,” Louie said.

“Uh, maybe. I guess. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes. Enjoy this. Enjoy your lives. Write good stuff. Entertain people. Make them think. Challenge them. And mostly, give them a little hope. The battle for hope never ends. The world needs more hope merchants. And that’s you,” Louie said.

Timothy clutched the book in one hand and Cheryl’s hand in the other. They left through the door with the bell, and Louie went back to reading with his magnifying glass.