Chapter Sixty-six

THE ANDERCHRONICLES

By Me, Ellee

[WARNING: The following story has been rated FNF*]
*Fiction NOT Fact

“An Ancient Find”

The little bell went ‘ding’ as I opened the door to The Cave Rare Books Shoppe on West 77th St., and descended the half step that put me directly into the main room—a tiny area stuffed with about a million old books stacked everywhere: on chairs and little tables, on boxes and window ledges, even on the floor and the stairs. The air was wreaking the mustiness of age. I couldn’t help thinking that this place really needed Harriet. But she was, at that moment, probably very busy killing wild beasts on the Serengeti with Uncle Bertie—in celebration of their recent nuptials.

As I looked around, I remarked how aptly the shop was named, for it truly looked like a cave inside. The walls appeared to be hewn out of rock—granite, the bedrock of Manhattan. The old man behind the antique wooden desk nodded as he looked up from his work and asked if I needed any help, but just then I saw Andy in the doorway of an adjoining room motioning to me. He had called earlier and asked if I would meet him there.

“Ellee, he began immediately, excitement in his voice, “I’m glad you’re finally here. You won't believe what I found this morning.”

After seating me next to him at the quarter-sawn, white oak reading table in the center of the little room, he then, with great care and respect, picked up the time-worn book with browned and crumbling edges, which had been open on the table, the one he had obviously been reading, and as he placed it in front of me declared,

“Well . . . this is it, Ellee.”

“This is what, Andy?” I responded after a few moments' hesitation, not having any idea what he was talking about. As far as I could tell, the it was just another old book in this ‘sea’ of old books—how wrong I was!

“This . . . this book,” he paused, “I just don’t know how to say it, Ellee . . . Running Deer and Gentle Lily . . . they . . .”

I could see he was having difficulty wording his thoughts.

“Yes, go on, Andy, they what? What about them?” I finally said to help him along.

“Oh, Ellee, their pain of separation is over! At last, after all these long centuries of waiting, they can be together again—forever!”

“They can? How . . . I mean . . . what . . . that is . . . why do you say that?”

He folded the book shut, keeping a finger in the place where he had been reading, so I could see the book’s title which read:
Forgotten Ancient Indian Rites. After a few seconds, he opened it again and continued,

“I come here often when I get a break from work. As I was rummaging through a box of newly acquired first editions earlier this morning, I came across this one and immediately recognized it as something extraordinary and I wa—” He stopped in mid sentence as he caught sight of what I was doing at that moment.

Although I had been listening to him, I had at the same time been unpacking the little picnic basket I had brought with me which contained our ‘lunch’. I had just laid out a cute little blue-checked table cloth, along with matching plates and napkins in front of him when he looked up at me with an incredulous look and coughed out,

“What . . . w-what are you doing, Ellee? What’s all this stuff?”

“Do you like it Andy?” I hurried to add, referring to the table cloth. “It’s just like that one shirt of yours. And look, I found these matching plates and napkins." I held them up for his inspection. "Don’t you think they’re cute?”

“ELLEE! For cryin’ out loud, this is no time for cute little table clothes with matching plates and napkins!!!!”

“Why not, you haven’t had lunch yet, have you?”

“Well no . . . but that’s not the point. And what’s with the blue checked table cloth? Ellee, this isn’t a picnic—we simply can’t eat at a time like this . . . and besides, what’s Mr. Flemzel gonna say? I don’t think he wants us turning his place into a park.”

“Ohhhh, Andy, I really don’t think he’ll mind . . . maybe we can invite him to lunch with us.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, will you just get rid of the table cloth and those . . . matching napkins . . . where did you get this stuff? Just pack it all up and focus on what I’m trying to tell you. This is important.”

“Okay, okay, Andy,” I acquiesced— but continued to open the container of sandwiches, setting free the delightful aroma of homemade bread and turkey salad with chopped black olives and garlic toasted almonds with just a slight hint of Adobo spice, and then stuck it in front of him, right under his nose. But by then he had already turned his attention back to his ‘ancient find,’ and didn’t even notice.

“Now,” he began once again, becoming totally absorbed in what he was saying, “ as I was reading this book about these ancient Indian rites . . . ,” at this point I noticed his hand reaching for a sandwich, and once he found it, stuffed it into his mouth, never missing a word, “ . . . I discovered that there is a way to reunite Running Deer and Gentle Lily, and to seal their love for eternity by means of a special ceremony . . .” He popped another sandwich and went right on explaining how this ceremony was to be preformed and by whom and where and when. He went on and on for some time, and the more he talked, the more he ate, so that by time his explanation was finished, so were all the sandwiches and I hadn’t even had one of them. Then he turned to me and asked,

“You know what this means, don’t you Ellee? Two people who love each other as much as Running Deer and Gentle Lily should be together forever. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh absolutely, Andy.”

“And . . .” his voice now dropped an octave as his eyes scanned the room, making sure no one was listening, and since no one was there, no one was, “and Ellee, I think you and I have been chosen to carry this out. We have seen the Stars of Panthera; we have felt their power. Remember the grid?”

“I remember it well, Andy.”

For a moment he was lost somewhere between the Stars of Panthera and that grid made of string. I followed his eyes as they tracked the unseen event which took place that cold December night. Finally he snapped back and added,

“ And it certainly wasn’t by chance that I just happened upon this book, you know.”

“It wasn’t?

“No, Ellee, it wasn’t”

“What was it then?”

“Elleeeee . . . come on . . . you know what it was—the power derived from that cosmic grid lining up with our string grid out in Quogue—it was then the mantle fell on us.”

“Ohhhhhh,” I said.

“And,” he continued, his hand now stroking the open page, “ as I read these pages, I can see we have been given everything we need . . . right here in this old tattered book to perform this ancient ceremony.” He tapped the book, and his piercing blue eyes settled squarely on mine.

Just then Mr. Flemzel entered the room and interrupted us saying, “I’m sorry, but there is no picnicking allowed in the reading room. Perhaps you didn’t notice the sign.”

He then drew our attention to a sign posted on the opposite wall which read: Picnicking strictly prohibited! Andy looked up at Mr. Flemzel and then over at me with a, see-didn’t-I-say-so look, and then offered,

“I can assure you, Mr. Flemzel, we really weren’t having a
picnic—,” but he stopped short as the blue checkered table cloth with matching plates and napkins caught his eye, “uhhh . . . although what you see here looks exactly like a picnic,” he laughed nervously, “in all actuality, it’s not, and we haven’t been eating anything.”

Andy grinned—sheepishly. Mr. Flemzel didn’t. Then, staring directly at Andy, he added,

“I saw you. You were eating sandwiches, sir.”

“I saw you too, Andy," I spoke up, "and you ate them all!”

“What? I did??? Well . . . ummmm . . . I . . . I guess I did . . . I mean . . . I did??? Are you sure?”

“Yes, Andy . . . you did,” I affirmed, reaching over with one of the matching napkins to brush away a couple of incriminating crumbs which were sticking to his lips, “you actually did. You ate every last one of them.”

“Every last one?”

“Yes . . . every last one!”

Andy apologized then to Mr. Flemzel saying he was sorry, and that the least he could have done was to have offered him a few
sandwiches—and really wished he had, but Mr. Flemzel threw us out anyway.

To say that Andy was upset when the little bell went ‘ding’ as the door slammed shut on us, doesn't exactly convey the full meaning of his emotions at that point.

“Now see what you did, Ellee. You got us kicked outta there before we could even buy that book!”

“Andy, I wasn't the one eating in there—it was you!

It was then he took hold of my shoulders and with an urgent look in his eyes announced,

“Ellee, we simply must get that book. The Cosmos is counting on us to fulfill this important mission, and Running Deer and Gentle Lily will be lost forever to each other if we don’t. We can’t let that happen.”

I looked back at the little shop hoping I could see Mr. Flemzel, but he had already pulled the window blind down and turned the 'Closed 'sign around.

Bye for now,
Love,
Ellee