It's three in the afternoon. Eric just finished visiting his grandparents and Thea, his younger sister. Eric and Thea grew up in the arms of their grandparents since their father died. He was only nineteen and Thea was ten years old when their father died. He had chronic myelogenous leukemia. He was in and out of the hospital for months before he died. All of their money including his savings for his children's future went to his treatment. They were left with nothing. He was a good father though. He fought for his children when their mother left them for another man. Since their father's death, both Eric and Thea were left to their grandparents who were by their side when their father was dying.
Eric's grandparents were strict. They instilled in them discipline, values and honor. Moreover, thanks to such upbringing, Eric knew, that what he is now is the result of their love and sacrifice. The habits that he inherited, in terms of self-discipline and work, were all worth it. What the world views as complex becomes easy for him. It wasn't shocking then that the radio station easily hired him.
It's been two months since Eric last saw them. It was also the day when he transferred to Cincinnati. Eric loves them dearly and is in constant communication with them at least every other day. Though Newport is not far from Cincinnati, he didn't have the luxury of time to visit them. He was busy with his work, hosting events sponsored by the radio station and every evening, his radio program. More so, he was still adjusting to his new environment, the place, the people, and his schedule. Everything is new for him.
Eric looked at his watch. There's so much time yet before he goes to work. As planned, he opened the front door, heard the tinkle of the little bell and just like yesterday, books on every surface greeted him. With the hope of finding a clue regarding the book or the owner of the book, Eric returned to the second hand bookstore.
Dust Jacket is the name of the store, written in a carved sign with italicized gold script above the front door. It is a small bookstore located at Mt. Lookout Square along Linwood Avenue. The store is completely different from the surrounding buildings. It looked as if it had been plucked from retro land and dropped in the modern square on a drunken dare.
The bookstore is like a sanctuary for book aficionado around the square. It may not be as modernized as the Barns and Nobles, which by the way is only some minutes away but the experience many customers get from Dust Jacket is immeasurable. The bookstore is well known for its books that are mostly leather bounded. It specializes in rare and collectible books just like what Eric bought yesterday. Congruent with the books being sold, the store is old, full of character, and last but not least, valued. It is like walking into a bookstore in the 1800s. Well almost. Shelves that sheltered thousands of books covered every inch of the wall. Actually, the store wasn't well planned out. Books weren't under their categories. Somehow, this adds to the adventure of finding a couple gems at the store. Who is to be blamed anyway, the workers? But there is only one worker in this bookstore, and who by the way is also the owner of the store.
In the cheerfully lit, pale brown foyer – at least the store was consistent in its inconsistency – sat an L-shaped desk. The longer leg stretches to the front wall of the store while the shorter leg with the left side of the building. On top of the desk is the counter for the transactions and on the far end are some rare items like historical manuscripts and maps, some of which dated from the Revolutionary War. These items seem to be just for display and are part of the collection of the owner.
Beneath the bright fluorescent light over the desk is an old man. He actually reminds Eric of his own grandfather, gray hair, dark-age spots, a little hunched over from years of gravity on pushing down on his spine, sour breath, glasses on the tip of his nose, in a brown suspenders, plaid shirt, and khaki pants pulled all the way up to his waist.
"Well, hello again!" the old man greeted as he set aside the book he was reading.
Eric approached the old man, nodded and at the same time wave. He cleared his throat loudly and then responded, "Hi!" Eric's eyes traveled around the shop trying to survey if the store is with other customers. He saw two customers. One is a teenager who might be a student looking for a book for his home reading report. The other looks like a middle-aged woman, possibly a housewife looking for something to waste her time with.
The old man smiled. "Have you finished the book? Are you here to buy another one?" he asked.
"Ah... Not yet actually," Eric responded.
"Can I help with anything then?"
Eric did not immediately respond. He did not know what to say. It's clear why he came back. He was here to ask the owner regarding the book or the owner of the book. He was hoping to find a clue. Yet, several situations came into his mind after seeing the owner again. What if the owner of the bookstore is the owner of the book? Knowing that he read the letter, his personal letter to his daughter, would the old man get angry? Is it proper to ask him? Eric is against the wall. He wanted to find any clue but he was hesitant. Would he ask about the book or not?
"Is there a problem with the book?" the old man speculated as he tries to read the expression of Eric.
"None. No problem at all. It was in perfect condition," Eric responded while still fidgety.
"What can I help you then?"
"
Ahhh..." Eric was still hesitant and then, "What is the meaning behind the name of the store?" He asked while pointing at the sign on top of the front door. He thought that maybe, he could ask the old man indirectly and get some clue if he was the one who wrote the letter. Hopefully, he can find anything by asking random questions.
"The Dust Jacket? Well, as you can see the shop is quite aged as I am. My wife and I love to read books. Actually, I was the one reading for her. She was blind. Through time, we had accumulated many books. Not just paperback books but all the books that we bought are leather bounded. Paradoxically, we named the shop 'Dust Jacket' because we wanted to remind all customers that the beauty of every book does not depend on the colors of the cover or the dust jacket but the words in them. The dust jacket of every book is purely aesthetic especially for blind people. We named it 'Dust Jacket' so that people would value not the cover but the richness of the story of every book. The dust jacket of every book is not just about cover as contrary to the dictionary meaning but is about the richness of the story. That is why most of the books that we sell are leather bounded or without the dust jacket."
"Wow! Amazing! Do you still read to your wife then?" Since not much clue has been unraveled, Eric tried to dig deeper.
"She died a few years ago." The old man's happy face turned into sadness. He loved her so much. She was his treasure and life. His sadness says everything.
"I'm sorry." Eric was ashamed. He questioned himself. What am I doing here meddling with the life of a stranger? He knew that it was rude of him to suddenly ask personal questions. He was not in the right position and the right time to ask the old man. He knew that his questions brought out the sadness of the old man that still haunts him.
"No. It's okay. No problem at all. Hmmm... So what do you really need anyway?"
The old man felt that Eric was hiding something. He stared at Eric as if waiting for him to tell the truth behind his coming back to the shop.
Eric was silent for a second. He doesn't know if he would ask the old man about the book or not after seeing the old man's face filled with wretchedness. He might just cause him more pain. Still, Eric felt empty. He knew that this is the only chance he has to find out who the owner of the letter is. If he will not ask the old man, there is no other way he will be able to uncover who the owner is.
"Well" Eric pulled out the book from his sling bag and place it on the desk "I wanted to ask you really about this book."
The old man caressed the cover of the book. "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will," he orated.
Eric scratched his head. "Huh?" Eric blurted out. He was confused. He doesn't know what the old man is saying.
"That's one of the famous lines from the book," the old man explained.
"No! No! What I wanted to ask is if you know the previous owner of the book, like who brought it to your shop or to whom did you buy it?" Eric clarified.
"Ahhh... Well. This book stands from the rest of the books here," the old man said.
Eric's face brightened up as he heard a positive start from the old man. The old man remembered the book he thought to himself. He touched his chest as his heart burns joyfully.
"This was with the other leather bounded classic books," The old man added as he browsed the pages of the book.
"Do you know who gave it to you?" Eric's fingers are icy cold. His heart is racing in excitement. He knew that the door of hope is starting to open for clues. His sleepless night would be over as soon as he finds out from the old man who gave it to me.
"If I'm not mistaken. A young man in a suit brought it here and sold them. I think... he was an attorney of some sort. Those books belonged to his employer and this one with you is the last copy among the many books he brought in." The old man scratched his chin as he tried to recall more.
Eric waited for the old man to add more. When there was none, he asked, "Can you recall the name of the owner of the books?"
The old man answered, "I'm sorry!"
After hearing those words, Eric was saddened. Does he have any other way to know the owner? The old man is his last chance. After a positive start comes a dead end. Is this the end of his search? It can't be. There should be another clue of some sort that could lead to the owner. Maybe they forget a small detail he can use.
"Why did you ask? Is there problem with the book?"
Instead of answering the old man, Eric took the book, opened it to the leaves where the letter was written. He pointed towards the letter signifying with firmest that this is the reason why. The old man started to read the letter aloud while the rest listened. The other two customers were drawn by their conversation about the book. Other than voice of the old man, silence besieged the store. They listened intently on him.
The letter became more dramatic due to the fact that a man, with a voice like the creak of a dry axel was reading it aloud. Words after words, as the old man read it audibly, all of them felt the despondency in it. Even Eric, who had read it several times, was still emotional hearing it. The letter is not an ordinary letter. It is not just a letter of a father to his daughter. The anguish, the sorrow, the regret, the longing and many more emotions come out in the open.
When the old man was finished, he closed the book, placed it on the desk and just stared at Eric and the other two customers. Silence continued to fill the room for seconds. The different emotions of the letter still linger in their senses. The gravity of emotion impeded them to say a word.
Then the old man cleared his throat and said, "We have some records of receipt or some sort of inventory that might pinpoint the previous owner of this book," as the old man slowly caresses the front cover of the book. "Yet, it will take time since I may need to look at every record last year," he added.
Eric heard a bell in his ears. It is not yet the end. The hope continues. There is still a chance that he will be able to find the owner. "Do you need help then?" Eric asked. He offers his service not because he wanted to locate the record of acquirement early. Well, it is one of the reasons but the more upright reason is that he thought of that he was actually the one asking the old man for a favor.
"No! No! It's okay. Let me just contact you if my daughter finds it," the old man rejected.
"Okay!" Eric pulled out his wallet and gave the old man his card; "I will just leave you then with my card in case you find the name," Eric added.
The old man accepted the card and promised Eric that as soon as they find the name, he will immediately contact him. Eric placed the book back to his bag and went out of the shop hopeful. Sooner or later, he will have the name and the search goes on.