The goodly tome is now orderable from your favorite actual bookstores and gettable online from Amazon and Barnes & Noble and Bookshop. Alibris, and Powell’s will soon have the book, too. In a few weeks, the various E-book editions will debut, as well as the audio book narrated by yours truly.
I thought you might like to hear a little about the process of creating the novel and making the audio edition, endeavors that took the better part of a year while I was simultaneously writing the next twenty-six chapters of the Healing saga, those twenty-six chapters to appear in 2024 as Volume Two of the saga.
The
first thing I did was to assemble the stories into a single document and
eliminate the many re-introductions of characters and place that were written
when the stories were intended to stand alone.
I
then printed out the manuscript and thoroughly rewrote the book, entered my
changes, printed out the manuscript again, and rewrote it again.
Marcia then carefully read each chapter and made notes about anything she found problematic. We discussed her notes at length, and I did two more drafts of the novel.
I then printed out the manuscript and waited three months for Peter Temple to have studio time for me to narrate the book. I wanted to narrate the audio book before I published the book because in the process of narrating four other books of mine that were already published works, I would inevitably find sentences and names and words I wished were otherwise. So this time I decided to use the narration process as a final editing step.
What fun it was to play all those different characters with the myriad accents and personalities! And what a great help Peter was in getting things just right, including the piano snippets I improvised for the end of each chapter.
I hope you’ll get the book in one form or another and enjoy the reading and/or listening experience.
Healing is sitting on the aisle seat in the last row of the Surf Theatre, the exit door a few feet away. This is the final Mercy showing of Marianne Savoy’s movie Essentiel, the title appearing in elegant white letters on a black screen, the English subtitle translating Essentiel as Crux of the Matter.
Marianne’s moviehas been playing at the Surf for three
days now, four shows a day, and this is Healing’s last chance to see the movie
on the big screen. He was going to attend the first screening but was overcome
with anxiety and did not go. Then he was going to attend the seventh showing
and developed a persistent cough and stayed home.
This morning Jahera and
Tova begged him to see the movie on the big screen, and though he felt feverish
and woozy after an early supper, he allowed Jahera and Tova and Steven to take
him to the theatre and sit with him in the last row, which is as close as
Healing can bear to sit.
The opening credits
proclaim the music for the movie was composed by Darvin Shapiro and performed
by Darvin Shapiro and Healing Weintraub, and when Healing’s name appears on the
screen, the audience erupts in applause.
The penultimate credit reads
Produced by Maahiah Dahl, and the
final credit is Written and Directed by
Marianne Savoy.
As Marianne’s name fades
away, the blackness dissolves into an exquisite view of the beach at the mouth
of the Mercy River, the shore besieged by enormous waves, the vast expanse of
sand void of people save for a solitary man in the far distance striding toward
the camera, two dogs trotting ahead of him.
Now Healing’s voice fills
the theatre.
“Forty years ago it was
when I fell in love with Camille. I’ve lived whole lifetimes since then, yet it
might have been yesterday when I first saw her on the Rue de Seine, so deeply
etched in my mind are my memories of her.”
As man and dogs grow
larger on the screen, someone cries “Healing! That’s Healing!” and thunderous
applause ensues.
“I can’t manage this,” whispers
Healing to Jahera, and he rises to go.
*
Out in the night, Healing breathes deeply of the cold October air and makes haste to Big Goose to have a beer.
“What a sad old man I’ve
turned into,” he says to the starry sky. “And I never knew until now.”
*
This being a Tuesday evening the pub is only half-full, the mood mellow, and Healing finds a place at the bar between Lisa Moreno who works at the bookstore and Denver Tuttle who owns Tuttle’sJams and Jellies next door to the Mercy Hotel.
Justin is tending bar
tonight. He serves Healing a half-pint of stout and says, “On the house, my
friend, in honor of your brilliant performance in Essentiel.”
“Many thanks,” says
Healing, gulping the bitter brew.
“Only French movie I
ever saw before yours,” says Denver, a burly fellow with sandy blond hair, “was
in a film class I took in college thirty years ago. Fell asleep ten minutes in because
nothing much was happening and everybody was talking French and they never
leave the translation up there long enough, and when I woke up twenty minutes
later I couldn’t figure out what was going on so I left. But I liked yours. That
gal who played Camille? Jesus God. They should put her in a James Bond movie.”
He nods assuredly. “And that Edward guy? Was he lucky or what? Miracle Camille
wasn’t already married. They usually are, women like that. And you know what
else? Every time I’d start to get confused, here you’d come again with your
dogs explaining things, and I was like… Hey I get this.”
“This was my first
French movie,” says Lisa, smiling shyly at Healing. “I loved how when you were
young everything was so sharp and clear, and when you were old everything was kind
of misty like in a dream. I loved how it went back and forth. It was very beautiful.”
“We were blown away,”
says Justin, serving Healing another half-pint. “Helen’s been writing non-stop ever
since she saw the movie. She’s seen it three times and she’s there again tonight.
I saw it twice. Best movie I’ve ever seen. By far.”
“How was it for you, man?”
asks Denver, nudging Healing. “Seeing yourself on the big screen?”
“Overwhelming,” says
Healing, gulping the beer. “Though I loved seeing my dogs. They’re so beautiful.”
“Your duets with Darvin are
incredible,” says Justin, putting a hand on his heart. “Darvin’s gonna make us
a couple CDs so we can play the music here and at home. He should win an Oscar.
I know he won’t, but he should.”
*
Walking home, drunker than he’s ever been, Healing stops on the sidewalk in front of the two-story building where Darby’s antique shop used to be, the ground floor now a snazzy gift shop, the upstairs luxury apartments.
Healing remembers the windows
of Darby’s shop plastered with posters for poetry readings at Crow’s Nest Books, rock bands playing at
Crossroads Bar and Grill, jazz at Big Goose, the latest plays at the Mercy
Players Theatre, notices of garage sales, lost dogs, lost cats, firewood for
sale, and dozens of business cards for massage therapists, gardeners,
babysitters, glass blowers, house cleaners, psychotherapists, carpenters, painters
– everything going on in Mercy.
“Now there’s only one
such bulletin board in town,” says Healing, heading for the fence adjacent to Good Groceries.
*
“Does that say puppies?” asks Healing, squinting at a handwritten notice tacked to the old redwood fence, the words barely discernible in the light from a street lamp thirty feet away.
Now a big white squad
car slows to a stop near Healing, and Sheriff Higuera smiles out his window at
Healing.
“Buenas noches, señor
actor,” says Ruben, in his gentle way. “We loved your movie. I swear to God your
voice could tame wild beasts.”
“Ruben,” says Healing,
coming to the squad car. “You found me. How did you know I was lost?”
“I didn’t,” says Ruben,
shaking his head. “Now I do.”
“Might I borrow your
flashlight for a moment?” asks Healing, marveling at how handsome Ruben is. “There’s
an intriguing notice on the fence I can’t quite make out. I think it might be
about puppies. Turq has been talking about getting a little dog and these might
be just the thing. Or two. Though it might say parrots, which would be equally intriguing, though we’re no longer
entertaining parrots at our house.”
Ruben hands Healing a
flashlight to illuminate the message written on a smll square of cardboard.
SHEEPDOG BORDER TERRIER
PUPS FOR SALE
TWO LEFT OCT 24 NO SHOTS
50$ TONY 771-1944
“Many thanks,” says Healing,
returning the flashlight to Ruben. “You are a true friend, Ruben, not to
mention my hero. I’ve told you before, haven’t I? That you’re my hero? Because
you are. The world would fall apart in a minute without you. And don’t think it
wouldn’t.”
“Get in, hermano,” says
Ruben, never having seen Healing so drunk. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I will accept your kind
offer,” says Healing, bowing to Ruben, “if you will lend me a piece of paper
and a pen so I may write down Tony’s phone number before my memory betrays me.”
*
“What prompted your drinking binge?” asks Ruben, driving at the speed of walking. “Never seen you like this in all the years I’ve known you.”
“Oh Ruben,” says Healing
with a heavy sigh, “I guess I’m feeling old. Missing my mum. Missing Darby’s
shop and how things were before everything changed.”
“Everything always
changes,” says Ruben, matter-of-factly. “Though people are no different than they
were a hundred years ago. A thousand years ago. We just have more gadgets now and
there are too many of us.” He smiles. “But it’s a beautiful night and maybe Tony
will have a puppy for you.”
*
They pull up in front of the little old house and Ruben turns off his engine.
“I wake up in the middle
of the night,” says Healing, anguished, “worrying about Raaz and Oz and ZuZu
and the terrifying future.”
“I feel the same way
about my daughters,” says Ruben, nodding. “And now Cecilia’s pregnant and soon we’ll
have a grandchild.”
“I guess there’s nothing
we can do but go on until we die,” says Healing, crying. “Try to be good to
each other.”
“Sí,” says Ruben, closing
his eyes and bowing his head. “Be good to each other.”
*
In the morning, Healing walks Ozan and Raaziyah to Arjun’s house for school, after which he makes haste to the parking lot at Walker’s grocery store where Tony, a skinny fellow with a bushy gray beard, is waiting by an old brown truck.
“Tony I presume,” says
Healing, raising his hand in greeting as Tony brings out a small cardboard box
from the truck. “I’m Healing. How are you today?”
“Can’t complain,” says
Tony, proffering the box wherein two little puppies are scrabbling at the sides
trying to get out.
“I’m in love,” says
Healing, smiling at the pups. “I can see the Border Terrier in them and those
Australian Shepherd colors. How big is the mom?”
“She’s a mini,” says
Tony, nodding. “Got knocked up by my sister’s dog before I could get her fixed.
There were seven pups, now there’s just these two. Ten-weeks-old. One’s a boy, one’s
a girl.”
“Where do you live,
Tony?” asks Healing, picking up the male and nuzzling him. “I’ve lived here all
my life and you are new to me.”
“We’ve only been here about
a month,” says Tony, nodding. “My wife and I. We’re from Ohio. We’re living up
Frog Pond Road at the Wilson’s. Ruth is my wife’s aunt. You know Ruth and John?”
“I do,” says Healing,
picking up the female pup. “Ruth and I used to take yoga at the rec center together
years ago and she was a daily shopper at Good
Groceries when I was manager there.”
“Ruth still goes to yoga,”
says Tony, grinning. “Still shops at Good
Groceries. We’re helping her with John. He’s got dementia now and she can’t
handle him by herself anymore.”
“I’m so sorry to hear
that,” says Healing, pained by the news. “It’s good they’ve got you and your wife
to help them.”
“We were looking to move
anyway.” He fishes a card out of his wallet. “I fix appliances if you know
anybody needs work done. Washers, dryers, refrigerators.”
“You’re just the person
I’ve been looking for, Tony,” says Healing, taking the card. “We have a
recalcitrant refrigerator I’ll be calling you about. As for the puppies, you
said fifty each?”
“How about eighty for
the two of’em?” says Tony, nodding hopefully.
“You drive a hard
bargain,” says Healing, extracting a wad of bills from his pocket. “Two hundred
it is. And I keep the box.”
“You serious?” says
Tony, frowning at the money.
“I am,” says Healing, handing
him the money. “These pups are worth ten times that to me.”
“Well okay,” says Tony, pocketing
the money. “You just made my day. Big time.”
“I’m glad,” says
Healing, bowing to him. “As you made mine.”
*
Healing takes the puppies directly to Mercy’s one and only veterinary clinic where Isabella Cisneros declares them in good health and leaves the vaccinating to her assistant Gwyneth Cumberland who sings to the little darlings as she gives them shots.
*
Home with the puppies, Healing introduces them to the dogs while Jahera makes a puppy bed near the fire.
“Have you named them
yet, Shafi?” asks Maahiah, holding Zubina while Eliana chops vegetables for minestrone
soup.
“No. I’m hoping Turq
will want them,” says Healing, petting the pups. “And he’ll name them.”
*
Turq arrives a half-hour later wearing a splendid brown and red and gold dashiki, his hair a black tangle peppered with gray. He kneels on the living room floor and gazes down at the pups conked out from their vaccinations.
“I want them,” he says quietly.
“Can I take them home now?”
“You can,” says Healing,
resting his hand on Turq’s shoulder. “Or you can leave them with us for a few
weeks and let them learn a thing or two from the older dogs. Whatever you
like.”
“You’ll house train them
for me?” says Turq, grinning at Healing. “That’s a no brainer. I’ll leave them here
until you give me the all clear.”
“I was hoping you’d say
that,” says Healing, laughing. “So the kids can play with them for a while. We’ll
leave the naming to you.”
“Oh let the kids name
them,” says Turq, who loves Raaziyah and Ozan.
“Stay for lunch?” asks
Jahera, eager to photograph Turq holding the puppies.
“Thank you, but I’m
taking my mother out to lunch for her birthday,” he says, standing up. “May I
bring Mama by this afternoon to see the pups?”
“Please,” says Jahera,
who loves Turq’s mother. “Come any time.”
*
At noon, Healing and Tova leash Moshe and Coosi and Flora and set off for Arjun’s house to get Raaziyah and Ozan.
“I have news, Pa-pa,”
says Tova, handling the rambunctious Flora. “Multiple headlines.”
“Regarding you and
Steven?” asks Healing, arching a quizzical eyebrow.
“One of the headlines is
about Steven, but I’m saving that one for last,” says Tova, who is head over
heels in love with Steven, and vice-versa.
“Do tell,” says Healing,
who has been gripped by sorrow since the moment he saw himself on the big
screen and heard his voice fill the cavernous room.
“Daniel called from
Paris yesterday to tell me Delphine and
the Sorcerer will have its world premiere in May,” says Tova, her eyes wide
with excitement. “At Cannes! And Steven and I are going.”
“Fantastic,” says
Healing, hugging her.
“And Morris called this
morning to let me know Cream Or Black
will have a theatrical release a year from now and start streaming two months
later, and he’s shooting his next
movie this coming May in Tucson, a comedy romance, and he wants me to play the
lead.”
“Amazing,” says Healing,
wishing he felt more excited about Tova’s success, yet feeling only sorrow. “You’re
defying the odds right and left.”
“Morris says everyone he’s
shown a rough cut of Cream Or Black to
thinks I’m in my thirties. And Daniel says the French find women sexy until
they’re seventy. So I guess I really am a movie actor now, only mostly I’ll be
here with Steven and the kids and you and Jahera and Maahiah and Eliana and the
dogs and cats.”
“And what’s the news
about Steven?” asks Healing, pretending not to know that Steven proposed to
Tova.
“Well…” she says, her
eyes filling with tears. “He asked me to marry him. And I said yes. And we
don’t want to wait so…”
“You’ll get married in
the little old house on Thanksgiving.”
“How did you know?” she gasps,
assuming clairvoyance.
“Might as well,” says
Healing with a nonchalant shrug. “All the usual suspects will already be
gathered there for the turkey and pies.”
“No, Pa-pa. How did you
know Steven asked me?”
“Because after waffles
last Sunday he and I had a chat and he asked for your hand in marriage,” says
Healing, enjoying Tova’s astonishment. “And I could tell he would be terribly disappointed
if I said No, so I said Yes.”
*
When Healing and Tova have raved sufficiently about the scary papier-mâché masks the kids are making for Halloween, the four humans and three dogs head for home – Tova and Healing saying nothing about the puppies in the living room.
“I suggest we pick up
the pace,” says Healing, eyeing the lowering clouds. “A significant downpour is
imminent and we foolishly left the house sans umbrellas.”
They almost make it home
before the deluge, but not quite, and when Ozan and Raaziyah rush into the
living room to take off their wet clothes by the fire, they find the puppies and
go wild with joy.
*
Four days later on a cold drizzly Sunday morning, Raaziyah and Ozan and Moshe accompany Healing to the hen house to gather eggs for the waffle batter, and they find seven eggs, which Healing says is an excellent haul for late October.
“Shafi?” asks Ozan,
carrying the basket of eggs to the house. “Why don’t the hens lay very many
eggs in the winter?”
“Because there is less
daylight now than in spring and summer,” he explains, “and the days are colder,
too. So the hens need more energy to stay warm, which leaves them less energy for
making eggs.”
“Why not put a heater in
the chicken coop?” asks Raaziyah, who didn’t know chickens got cold.
“I do put a heater in
there when it gets very cold,” says
Healing, following the kids up onto the deck. “However, it’s mostly the amount
of light that makes the biggest difference when it comes to egg laying. Some people
put bright lights in their hen houses and keep the lights on most of the time,
but I don’t do that because if I were a chicken I’d enjoy a break now and then from
making eggs. Fortunately for us, Matilda and Eunice and Bess are Golden Comets,
and Golden Comets like to lay eggs year round.”
“Why not have all Golden Comets?” asks Ozan, frowning
thoughtfully.
“Because I like having different
kinds of chickens who make different colored eggs,” says Healing, scanning the
yard to make sure all the dogs are well before he follows the children inside.
*
During the waffle fest, as
talk of Halloween and the impending Thanksgiving nuptials reaches a fever pitch,
Healing brings a plate of waffles to the table and Zuzu in her high chair raises
her arms to him and cries, “Howie. Howie.”
Healing hands the plate
of waffles to Jahera and lifts the baby girl out of her chair and carries her
into the living room to visit the puppies in their little pen, and Healing’s
sorrow abates for a time.
*
After a long post-waffles visit by the fire, Healing drives Darby and Marjorie home, a hard rain falling.
He walks them to their
door where Marjorie takes his hand and says, “We have to grieve, Healing. We must. It is how we make room for joy to
return.”
