The Black Heart

I strolled leisurely along the sidewalk of the city circle to the front steps of the red brick library. It’s not as busy these days as it used to be.

As a kid I spent a good portion of my Saturdays within these walls. Today though I’m just coming here for the tactile experience. I’ve been away for several years and I’m in town visiting. I have some time to kill and I’ve missed the smell of the books, the feel of their pages, the visual array of covers and spines.

As I enter and ascend the short flight of broad, smooth stairs, I know exactly where I’m headed. I walk through the brightly colored children’s area, past the round internet kiosk and the long front desk at the end of which I turn to my left and enter the single elevator to the mezzanine. It’s a full story above me overlooking the largest room of the library.

Hardly anyone ever goes up there, so I anticipate having it to myself. The peaceful loft of shelves therein, lined with volumes full of strange and wondrous works!

You see, the mezzanine houses all of the old and obscure books from days gone by. Many of them inscribed with names and dedications from the turn of the previous century, having come to the library from private collections and estates.

Today, as I exit the elevator and step onto the shiny floor of the dimly lit space, I feel like I’m HOME. I turn to my right and walk the aisle between the rows of shelving, not stopping until I reach the very last row facing the outside wall. I feel the pull of these timeworn paper and ink passageways as I step again to my right, in front of the shelf nearest the railing to the floor below. I crouch and then sit on the floor in front of the oldest part of the collection. I wonder that these books haven’t been taken away and protected from deterioration. Some of them could even be quite valuable!

I don’t have a card here anymore, so I know I can’t check one out, but I want to sit here for a bit and just FEEL them.

I reach out to touch the book directly in front of me. It’s slightly taller than its neighbors, with a faded woven blue cover over a heavy support, Its title printed in red inset lettering. I revel in its texture, rough and smooth at the same time. I note the slight, thready tattering at the top edge of the spine as I pull it toward me to get a look at the front of it. Just as the bottom corners of it lift away from the edge of the shelf, the covers separate and a small black notebook falls from between the brittle pages, onto the floor near my feet. I reach with my other hand to catch the heavier volume, now flapping loosely as I fumble to get it re-shelved. Having seated it comfortably back within its refuge, I lean forward and scoop the tiny black book up, turning it over in my hands.

I observe that it’s a rather handsome volume, well made and sturdy although smoothly worn. There are no markings of any kind on the outside of it, so I flip the cover to peer within. There is a small drawn, or stamped, inverted image of a heart on the outer cover. Realizing then, that I have it upside down. I turn the book right side up and open it to the front page.

There, small but neatly handwritten in what looks to be aging India Ink, is an inscription. The nature of it being that ownership of this notebook and the resulting contents are unequivocally transferred to the current holder, now possessor by proxy, until its re-assignment.

My mind awhirl with burning curiosity, I turn the page and see the same exact thing written again in ink. The handwriting and initials are the only difference. Page after page I turn. Again and again, the initialed message turning over the notebook to the next holder and possessor. No dates are given, just the release and initials. As I near the middle of the book and turn the next page, I see that it is blank and a small piece of faded blue ribbon is holding the place.

Now as I turn the pages they are blank, presumably awaiting the next handoff. I continue to flip through, looking for a clue to the unusual ownership transfer. As I near the end of the booklet, I find the next to the last page is also inscribed. The author’s note, as in the front of the book, addresses the current possessor with instructions to, show the book to the proprietor of a place called “The Black Heart tavern” and collect a reward.

REWARD?

It goes on to ask that the new possessor please inscribe the next page in the fashion which the prior holders have led with, and return the notebook to the volume it came from, wherever it may be.

Stunned, I wondered what this was about? What possible reward could there be for merely glimpsing a booklet with so little inside it? I pocketed the book with only a twinge of guilt, telling myself that I would be returning it once I solved this mystery, and I left the library.

I had never heard of The Black Heart tavern, so as I sat in my hotel room that evening, I began an internet search, starting locally first. After all, that blue book it fell from could have come from anywhere and it was pretty old.

It crossed my mind that I may not be able to find it. It may be on another continent, or might not exist any longer, or it may not be owned by the same person. All of the writing seemed pretty old and I might end up disappointed at the end of this, but for now, I’m a tad obsessed with finding out what this cryptic “reward” is!

My initial search for “The Black Heart Tavern” didn’t turn anything up. I found a lot of places with “Black” OR “Heart” in the name, and one “Blackheart bakery”. The nearest place I found that even sounded close was about 100 miles south, off the coastal highway. It was called “Black Heart Bar and Grill.” It seemed like it was either going to be the wrong place or under new ownership, since the word “tavern” wasn’t used.

Ah well, it was going to be a day trip to the coast which sounded nice anyway.

The next day I set off, enjoying the beautiful views on the extended drive along the coast. As my GPS informed me that I was about to reach my destination, I spotted it and pulled directly into the unevenly paved blacktop lot.

The building was an old brick and mortar, painted with a thickish coat of black paint. Along the main wall next to an ornate wooden door, in large red lettering outlined in white read, “Black Heart Bar & Grill”. The ampersand in the shape of a black heart.

I took a deep sea-briny breath in, feeling a bit nervous and wondering how silly I was about to look.

As I entered, the heavy door closing noiselessly behind me, a young woman behind the bar at the back called out a cheery welcome. I walked to the bar and smiled, sliding onto a smooth wooden barstool. Feeling a bit foolish, I asked if lunch was being served yet.

Receiving an affirmative nod, she turned to get me a menu. I hesitantly asked if she knew whether the place had ever been known as “The Black Heart Tavern”. She froze, with her hand still extended toward the menus and slowly turned toward me, a speculative look on her face. She indicated that it hadn’t been called that in a VERY long time and she wondered why I had asked.

I simply explained that I’m looking for the owner of the Tavern because I may have something that belongs to him or her.

As she eyed me a bit suspiciously, I slid the notebook across the counter, keeping my hand slightly over it, feeling the need to shield it a bit. At the sight of the book, her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small “O”.

She put a hand delicately over her lips but couldn’t hide a broad smile that had taken them over. Then, she extended her right hand for me to shake and exclaimed that she was the current owner of the Black Heart, and that she was delighted that I made it to her.

I shook her hand uncertainly. As we released the handshake, she held up a forefinger and I waited as she indicated, while she disappeared through a doorway at the other end of the bar. Moments later she returned, a small antique ship’s chest in her arms. She placed it on the bar and smiled, a twinkle in her eye as she asked me if I liked surprises.

I chuckled and told her that I thought it might be self-evident, since I was here. She laughed too, and she withdrew a key on a chain from around her neck and unlocked the chest.

As I looked on, she pulled out a slightly yellowed envelope and handed it to me. Before I could look inside, she shook her head at me and told me to open it somewhere private. I thanked her and she asked if I still wanted to eat. I did, and she brought me the lunch special, on the house. Whatever is in the envelope must be amusing, because she was serving the patrons that entered after me with that same twinkle in her eye and a little spring in her step.

I thanked her again as I left. She thanked me back brightly and told me to enjoy myself. As I got into the car I considered opening the envelope here, and thought better of it. I felt like I could make the suspense last a little longer if I waited until I got back, and frankly I was enjoying myself!

I returned to my hotel room later that day and pulled the envelope from my pocket, anticipation tickling up the back of my spine. Inside was a numbered key and a letter addressed “Dear Sir or Madam,“ stating that upon my agreement to the terms of this letter, an amount of Twenty Thousand U.S. dollars could be retrieved at a certain bank from a safety deposit box with the enclosed key. It specified that I was not to disclose to any person, persons, institution or media of any kind, any of the details regarding this adventure or reward. I was to enjoy the money at my own discretion and not think another thought of it once the notebook was returned to its hiding place and the key delivered. I was to mail the key to a certain law firm at a given address once I had retrieved the funds, and I was never to return to the Tavern, nor question anyone involved in the fun.

I considered whether this might be some elaborate joke on me, but the next day I went to the bank indicated and pulled the box. Sure enough! Inside was Twenty thousand dollars CASH!

Smiling to myself, I followed the instructions and authored my page in the log in my own writing and returned the notebook and the key as directed. I have plenty of great ideas for the money. Everything from a leisurely vacation, to household upgrades, to treasure hunts of my own. That kind of money can do some things!

For now though I’m just going to enjoy having it, and ponder the odd little notebook, the Black Heart and the mysterious origins of my unexpectedly lucrative little adventure!