The Roots of the Olive Tree
Page 28
“Shhhh,” my mom says. It is late, and although Athena’s eyes are wide open, the rest of her looks to be on the verge of sleep.
“What happens?” Athena asks.
“Using her hands, the Girl paddles the Tortoise near the boat. It takes them hours to catch up to it, but finally, they are near enough that the Girl stretches out and grabs on to a ladder that hangs down the side of the ship. She reaches into the water and tries to pull the Tortoise up with her, but she is too small to carry him and his legs are too short to climb the ladder.
“ ‘I’ll let the current carry me back to shore,’ the Tortoise says. His eyes are closed and his head is barely lifted out of the water.
“ ‘I can’t leave you,’ the Girl says. She does not think she’s ever seen her old friend look so tired.
“ ‘Kiss me on the nose. It’ll bring you luck and a life long enough so that we may meet again.’
“The Girl keeps one hand tight on the ladder and leans over to kiss the Tortoise on the nose. She’s never done it before and is surprised at how soft his skin feels. They bump noses and then he kisses her. She climbs the ladder and once she is safely atop the boat, she looks in all directions for some sign that the Tortoise is still in the water. In the darkening light, she thinks every wave cap is the Tortoise’s shell. She sees him everywhere and nowhere, and when the sun has finally set, she turns her back on the ocean and goes in search of her father.”
“The end?” Athena asks with her eyes closed.
“The end,” my mother says, rising and kissing the top of Athena’s head.
I take Grandma Anna’s arm, and as we walk out of the room together, she says, “You know, I’m still looking for that Tortoise.”
Acknowledgments
I have a tattoo of a quill, which I got when I was eighteen and believed that it would always remind me that I was a writer. It did not, but my husband did. Not only did he believe that I could write this book, he took the kids to the movies, to the park, to ride bikes on Saturday afternoons so that I could write this book.
The year I turned thirty, chance and Richard Bausch put me in a group of writers who had nothing more in common than wanting to be better writers. We spent a winter sharing our work with one another and learning as Richard gently walked us through his lessons on writing (it is show-and-tell). I am still with those wonderful writers and they have shepherded me through many more winters with grace, humor, and honest critique of my writing. Thank you Beverly, David, Elizabeth, Jerry, Lisa, Marjorie, Patti, and Ray.
The students and faculty who are a part of the University of Memphis’ MFA program are incredibly talented and generous. If not for their help and guidance (and good old-fashioned competiveness) this book would still be a story about an old woman, a pregnant woman, and a turtle. Thank you to Tom Russell for helping me start this novel in his workshop and thank you to Cary Holladay for being the best thesis advisor. Cary is a brilliant writer who is generous with her time.
My agent, Alexandra Machinist, found me, fought for me, and in the process made me believe that dreams do come true. She, along with Stephanie Koven, have done more than their fair share of hand-holding to help me through all that I didn’t know about what happens after someone says yes to your book.
There is no better editor than Carrie Feron. She embraced my book and told me where it needed work. Without her valuable insights into my characters, this novel would be less than it is today. It is a dream to be working with the team at William Morrow: Tavia Kowalchuk, Shawn Nicholls, Ben Bruton, Lynn Grady, Liate Stehlik, Mike Brennan, Brian Grogan, and Andrea Molitor. A special thanks to Tessa Woodward for knowing what I needed before I could ask.
Finally, thank you to my own unbroken line of women. Especially my mother and my grandmothers. I am surrounded by strong, complicated, interesting women with more stories than I’ll ever be able to write.
About the Author
COURTNEY MILLER SANTO grasped the importance of stories from listening to her great-grandmother, who lives in Northern California. She learned to write stories in the journalism program at Washington and Lee University, and then discovered the limits of true stories working as a reporter in Virginia. She teaches creative writing at the University of Memphis, where she earned her MFA. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Los Angeles Review, Irreantum, Sunstone, and Segullah. She lives in Tennessee with her husband, two children, and dog. Her most prized possession is a photo of five generations of women in her family.
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Credits
Cover design by Mary Schuck
Cover photographs by Getty Images and Shutterstock
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE ROOTS OF THE OLIVE TREE. Copyright © 2012 by Courtney Miller Santo. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-06-213051-8
EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062130532
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