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“Indy, why don’t you write a book?”
It had all started with a question. Something that Indiana Jones had answered more than one of in his lifetime. When he’d been a professor, there hadn’t been a day that had gone by that he hadn’t been asked at least something, whether it be about the material, about something pertaining to a homework assignment, and, more than a few times, about the things he did when he wasn’t in his office.
Sometimes those questions had received answers, and other times, they had been things he’d merely tried to brush off. Especially since some of those things were either so incredible that he knew whomever had asked would simply accuse him of making it all up. That or they’d want him to go over every detail, and that wasn’t something he could have fit into a simple meeting during his office-hours.
Other times? They’d been filled with too many memories that he found himself unsure if he wanted to relive or wanted to forget altogether.
“Come again?” Glancing over at where his wife, Marion, was seated, a new hardcover perched in her hands, Indy knew he’d heard her right the first time. But something about the question had begged him to make sure he hadn’t been imagining the words.
“I said, why don’t you write a book?” she asked, relinquishing one of her hands’ grips on the book in order to lean against the back of said hand.
“I’m not sure it’d be as exciting as whatever that Cussler guy is writing about.” he scoffed in response. The thought had crossed his mind once or twice. After all, his father had been the authority on the Holy Grail, and had eventually seen fit to publish some of his work. Once in a long while, there would be requests in the mail from students and scholars alike that hadn’t heard of his passing, looking for information. More times than he liked to admit, Indy found himself struggling to answer them with the truth.
But this was different. While he’d had his expertise sought after by more than a few differing governments over the years, he’d never considered himself an expert on any culture specifically. Rather, his knowledge was spread out from a seemingly endless well of cultures the world over. That knowledge had been in part a great deal to the places his ‘adventures’, as he scarcely liked to call them, had taken him over the years. Until he’d finally had to relent to the invincible opponent that was old age.
“I’m serious! Half the stuff they write about in these kinds of books are so boring compared to the things you used to do.”
“I recall you were a part of a few of those too, dear.” Indy answered again, flashing a smirk at her that made it all too easy for her to feel one of her own coming on.
“I’ve never read about someone being tied to a pole on an island filled with Nazis, for your information.” It was her turn now to toss a bit of snark his way. There was no need for her to elaborate further about that adventure, especially when it had led to one of their reconciliations. Just that alone would have been enough to make a book heavy enough to slug someone with.
“I’m not sure the government would want me to talk about that one.”
“Since when have you ever cared about what they think?” Marion’s smirk hadn’t yet begun to fade. Certainly, the outcome of that one hadn’t lost its sting, even after all the years that had passed. Even looking into his face, she could see that as plain as the day was long.
Perhaps the ones that had gotten away never would lose their sting.
“That’s not the point, Marion. The last thing I think we want is someone from the government coming to the house and demanding to talk to us.”
“You’re not making much of a point right now, Indy. You know that.” Marion’s smirk actually seemed to grow just a smidge.
“It’s not a good idea.” Shaking his head, Indy pushed himself out of his chair, abandoning the newspaper he’d been in the process of reading minutes prior. Much of what he’d seen hadn’t truly been worth the effort to read through anyway. Every day, it just seemed to be more of the same. He wouldn’t say he was nostalgic for the times when it seemed the entire world had been at war, but at the very least, he hadn’t ever felt like he’d seen the same headlines over and over again.
“Oh, come on!” Tossing her book aside, hardly caring to mark her place, Marion was likewise back on her feet, following her husband as he lumbered his way into their kitchen.
“I said no, Marion. Nobody will want to publish the damn thing.” Indy offered over his shoulder, refusing to entertain the idea for a single second. The coffee in the pot might have grown cold, but it was better than nothing. Especially at this hour of the afternoon. He could already tell that the idea now firmly having gotten ahold of his wife wasn’t about to relinquish that control anytime soon.
“How do you know? I think there’s probably plenty that would!” Marion countered, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him pour a cup.
“Oh, yeah? Where would I even start then?” Keeping his eyes trained on his cup until it was full, Indy finally turned to greet his wife’s familiar gaze. Neither of them were going to give up. He already knew that. It wouldn’t be the first time that the two of them had decided the only way out was to win, and neither was willing to be the first to blink.
“From the beginning!” Truly feeling like she was trying to get water from a stone, Marion didn’t try to hold herself back from rolling her eyes. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that if she could get him to actually just sit down, there was no way whatever he could produce would be great. After all, she’d been there for some of those adventures first-hand, and knew that if someone could imagine even half of what they’d seen and been through, there wasn’t a company that would be able to keep the thing in print.
And those were the ones that she had seen. With how busy her husband’s life had been, there was probably enough there for several books over.
“You mean like some kind of a biography? I thought you wanted this to be exciting.”
“Are you saying your life hasn’t been exciting?” Marion asked with a disbelief expression etched into her face. She was already a bit tempted to throw something at him. And depending on his answer? She might actually follow through with it.
“I’m saying that I don’t think it’s exactly something I want to write about.” Stealing a quick sip of coffee, Indy knew that look on his wife’s face well enough. She definitely wasn’t going to let this go. He had a better chance of going out and walking across the desert than he did of talking her out of this. Leaning against the counter at his back, he briefly stared down into his coffee, before resettling his gaze back on her.
“Are you actually serious about this?”
“Yes, I am.” Something about his tone made Marion realize that perhaps he was listening to her. Even if it was just to possibly talk her backwards into agreeing with him, rather than against him.
“Come on…”
“I am! I really think you could write a good book! How many papers did you look over when you were teaching? You know what not to do better than most probably do!”
Looking into Marion’s face, Indy was silent for a moment, pondering if there even was something he could offer to her that might sway her off of this path. For someone who had survived up to this point of his life by the seat of his pants sometimes, it was a question that even he couldn’t find an answer to. In fact, he would almost consider facing an entire hallway filled with snakes from floor to ceiling rather than continue this conversation any longer.
The way out that was in front of him was obvious.
“Alright…alright.” Throwing up his hands, after having made sure his cup of coffee was safely on the countertop beside him, Indy had already prepared himself for what would come next. He knew his wife too well not to.
Even as Marion threw her arms around him, Indy was already thinking, however, just what kind of adventure he’d just allowed himself to be talked into.
Months later.
The box had come earlier that day. Watching the mail man come up the walk with it had effortlessly captured Marion’s attention. By the time he had come to the door, she had already been there, letting more than a bit of her excitement show on her face without a single care in the world. After that, it had taken her no time at all to get the box inside and set it on the kitchen table, calling out to where Indy had been perched in the living room, attention torn between both the newspaper and a book that lay half-open beside him.
“Indy! I think the books are here!”
Despite whatever article he’d been reading, Indy quickly put it aside, and got back to his feet. Perhaps a bit more gingerly than he would have done in his youth, but still with more than enough speed to show he had his own bit of excitement with all of this too. He could admit, Marion had been right. This had been a good idea after all.
Marion had already made short work of the tape keeping the box’s flaps shut, but had stopped short of actually opening the box. After the hard work her husband had put into all of this, she already knew exactly who deserved the honor.
“Well, go ahead, open it!” gesturing towards the box, she had a smile that stretched ear-to-ear. Entering the kitchen, Indy approached the table as though every possible lost treasure in the world was somehow contained inside. For all he knew, maybe they were. For someone who had made a living off of hunting down the most forgotten of relics across the globe, it was a familiar feeling. And for a few seconds, if he had closed his eyes, perhaps he would have been right back at any number of places, the years between then and now fully erased.
It was a good feeling, as much as the nostalgia had a touch of sadness to it just the same.
Carefully, his hands moved to the box’s flaps, pulling them back as if there was a trap lying in wait for him if he went too fast. Even if it was just possibly bringing his wife’s own excitement down on himself. As they finally parted, revealing what lay inside, it was that very excitement that overtook the entire kitchen in full force.
Even as Marion’s arms wrapped around his neck, her gleeful scream filling both the kitchen and his ears, Indy couldn’t take his eyes off of what lay inside the box. Filling seemingly every inch of space within were freshly printed hardbacks, the color of their dustjackets’ spines standing out effortlessly.
New books.
His book.
The months of writing came back to him in a flash; the way he’d burned as much midnight oil on the actual writing process as he had for any of the times he’d been out in the field tracking down old relics. Marion had played just as much of a role in editing all of those as she had in encouraging him to keep going, even when he’d been sure he’d written down everything he could remember. After every single talk or editing round, something more had come back to him, making him go back and work them in.
In time? There’d been enough there for an entire book. And that was just a simple helping of what he’d experienced in his lifetime.
Looking at the finished product now? Indy felt every bit of the rush he’d felt in handling any of the relics he’d talked about inside those pages. And in some ways, it felt better.
He’d left the title to Marion. After all the editing work she had put into the project, it had felt right. And besides, the last thing he’d felt himself capable of was coming up with something that wouldn’t be cut and dry. Too many years of editing papers had left a mark on him. But as he read the title embossed on those spines, he found himself having to read it a few times.
“Marion…” he said, looking down at his wife, who was still completely enthralled in her own excitement.
“What? You don’t like the color?”
“’The Adventures of Indiana Jones’?” he read, as if the title was the most cornball thing he had ever read. And in some ways, it was. If it had been something emblazoned on a comic-book, he wouldn’t have batted an eye at it. But seeing it on his book? It was a bit difficult to wrap his head around.
“Oh, come on, it’s great! It grabs your attention!” Completely shaking off any concern that might be in her husband’s mind, Marion made it clear she knew exactly what she was talking about. After all, hadn’t he given her free reign in choosing the title? That had been her department, as editor.
“It sounds a little…you’re not trying to turn me into some kind of Buck Rogers, right?” The reference easily made Marion snort a bit, both in how ridiculous it sounded, and how dated the reference seemed now. It was exactly the kind of thing that would have caused his former students to give him looks of confusion. The laugh he got in response from Marion, however, was the total opposite of that.
“Trust me, this title is great. People will eat it up!” Marion quickly gave her husband a small peck on his cheek. “Besides, I’m your partner, remember?”
Remembering the first time she had said that, an adventure he’d written about in the book, ‘top men’ be damned, it was Indy’s turn to smile.
No matter how corny the name of the book was, he could admit this was something he was proud of.
And honestly, the more he thought about it, maybe it wasn’t such a bad title after all.