The Cowardly Lion

Thump. Linus shot forward from his slouched position on the sofa, just barely stopping himself from keeling over the coffee table. He put his elbows on his knees and rubbed his tired eyes. What was that noise?

As a fire chief at Station No. 8 out of Topeka, Kansas, Linus was attuned to noise, but he was not in his element here on the Southwest Chief Train. Linus’s poker buddies had surprised him with a one way bedroom suite ticket to Chicago.

“Anything to convince you to come back to game night,” his best friend, Darryl, had said. “Cindy would be very disappointed if she heard you stopped showing up to the Pit. I promised her I’d keep her seat warm for her return, but she wrongly assumed her old man would take care of that. I have half a mind to tattle on you!”

Linus grinned. “If you bother her with this crap, you can kiss your Facetime rights goodbye!” Ultimately Linus agreed to a game when he returned. He missed the guys like hell – he just didn’t think he’d make the best company.

He stretched out his long legs and looked out the singular window. The sun was peaking out of the skyline, which meant he should not have woken up for at least another hour. Linus stood, resigned to an early breakfast. He bent down to put on his boots when his eye caught a glimmer of gold sticking out from underneath the couch. That’s what that noise was, thought Linus. It was a beautiful notebook, covered in black fabric with gold pictures and lettering. Linus picked it up and sat down to take a look at it. It must have slipped from his hands when he was napping. The picture was of a sad lion sitting and a small girl comforting it. Underneath the image, it said The Wizard of Oz – Limited Edition.

“Beautiful thing you got there Daddy-O,” muttered Linus. He knew the image and the words on the top of the page very well: The Cowardly Lion – Chapter VI. It was why he had bought the Moleskine notebook a couple of days ago. Only two people in the world knew about Linus’s weakness for books. Stashed away in his bedroom loft was a crowded selection of classic American novels, mostly leatherbound. His buddies would never let him live it down if they knew about his hobby. Linus was a big man with a reputation set in stone. More known for his axe-throwing skills, a booming voice that could carry across the station over the sound of 3 fire engines, and a sweet tooth for Reese’s Pieces, Linus wasn’t looking to publicize his private book club. After a particularly long day and a hot shower, Linus would sit himself in a worn, leather armchair, stuff his face inside the pages of a book and take a good, long whiff. The smell was intoxicating for Linus, a stimulating experience that would take him away from the smell of burning metal, screeching noises, and the sad moments.

“If we walk far enough, we shall sometime come to some place,” muttered Linus. He flipped through the pages in the notebook – all blank. Linus brought it to his face, closed his eyes and took a deep whiff. Immediately it brought back a vivid memory: Linus, before the beard was lined with grey, sitting in his armchair with little Cindy snuggled on his lap, head on his chest as he read The Wizard of Oz in that deep voice that would make her ear vibrate. It put Cindy to sleep every time. Her little blond hairs would tickle his nose, but he wouldn’t dare move to scratch it while she was asleep.

Linus smiled with his eyes still closed, but when they opened, there was only age and sadness. He closed the notebook with a deep sigh, stood up slowly and headed to the diner.

As he plowed through a big plate of eggs and bacon at the diner’s bar, Linus chuckled to himself, put his fork down and opened the front flap of the notebook. Taking a pen from his checkered shirt pocket, Linus wrote something inside and tilted his body back to take a look at his handiwork. Satisfied, he closed the notebook and dug back into the plate.

“Pardon me for butting in sir, but can I take a closer look at whatcha got over there?”

Linus looked to his left for the source of the voice, and saw an equally big fellow staring right at him.

The man continued, “Sorry to surprise you out of your revelry, but I am quite familiar with that picture on the cover. It looks like a Denslow original.”

Linus raised his eyebrows in surprise. William Denslow was the illustrator for the original edition of The Wizard of Oz. “You a fan yourself?” he asked.

The man smiled at Linus. “More than a fan. I’m family.” He put his hand out. “The name is Roger Baum. You probably know my great-grandfather, Lyman.”

Linus turned fully towards Roger and grabbed the hand for a hearty handshake. “Wait a minute here, your great-grandfather is the L. Frank Baum, author of The Wizard of Oz? Shoot me straight and draw me a cross, of course you can take a look!”

Linus handed the notebook over the Roger, who handled it delicately with both hands.

“This here is a beauty. May I?” Roger asked, pointing to the cover.

Linus held out a hand invitingly, “Please, go ahead.”

Roger opened the front flap and put on reading glasses. “In case of loss, please return to Cindy Bellman. As a reward: $20,000.” Roger looked at Linus from the top of his glasses. “$20,000 for a notebook? You got some secret map to a treasure hidden in here?”

Linus smiled in discomfort. “Not exactly. It’s a little inside joke between me and my daughter, Cindy. She’s got cancer, and it’s been getting pretty bad. Doctor said it’ll cost about $20,000 to continue with the treatment we had more success with. I don’t have that kind of cash lying around, but I thought this’ll give her a little kick.”

Roger shook his head. “No parent should have to go through what you are going through right now. Does she have a particular love for The Wizard?”

“Not exactly,” said Linus. “It’s embarrassing, but I haven’t exactly been around for her. She is getting treatment out in Chicago, and I haven’t been by in a long time. I ain’t proud of it, to say the least. But, I used to read her books when she was younger, and I’m hoping the lion analogy will make her smile enough to pave the way to some forgiveness for my cowardice.”

Roger, hesitated for a second, then reached into the breast pocket of his suit and took out a check book. “You may want to look away now,” he said to Linus. Roger grabbed the pen that was left on the table, wrote out a check and placed it in the flap of the notebook. He closed the flap and slid the notebook towards Linus. Before taking his hand off of the book, Roger took his other hand and put it on Linus’s shoulder.

“my great-grandpappy sure had a lot to say on subjects like this, but I think he would have something special to say just for you: ‘A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others.’ I don’t know you Linus, but I know cowardly lions. When you show up, the love will be there waiting for you.” With that statement, Roger clapped Linus on the back and walked away.

Linus watched Roger walk out, then opened the flap. The check was made out to cash in the amount of $20,000. In the notes it read, “For the bravest lion on this train”.