The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,188
under A., looking past his shoulder into that one-bird-filled sky, lying like a girl, naked under my husband in the woods. I felt the shadow of his disappearance then. Faint in that spring brightness, but not undetectable. I chose not to look at it then, not to pull the thread of that individual loss and sorrow out of the tapestry, but I knew it was there. I’ve wondered if he intentionally brought me to the place where he would take his leave, the deep blue mouth of the earth that would be his door out of this life. Probably not. I don’t think he knew any more than I did at the time. He was simply and eventually true to his own nature. He left my life as he entered it, through elegant and elemental forces. He left me to listen after him to this new land.
Now he is of this land and this water. The water here, like him, is of no discernible origin. Pulled by the sun’s endless energy, it rises from far-off shores to fall on Florida soil. It makes its way through the dense, fragrant darkness of mulch, tannin-drenched sand, and the limestone. In dark, underground silence, droplets form trickles then brooks. Brooks join to become small rivers beneath this thin skin of earth. Small rivers join to make larger rivers, increasing exponentially in force, power, and volume until millions of gallons spring from the earth into the lazy flow of the Suwannee, the Withlacoochee, the Itchetucknee, the Santa Fe. From there, the water flows to the sea, or it makes its way into the bellies of alligators and snakes, or inches up through dense cellulose of cypress. Or it rises as singular molecules again toward the sun to fall once more on other faraway forests.
Countless times, I have imagined A. rising through the rivers of this land, to the surface of Florida to be found again, pulled into the air by new hands. The possibilities are endless, but most often I imagine him found by children. Above him, the sky shimmers and undulates blue through transparent springwater. Then four small brown hands break the surface and pull him into the air and into their excited and frightened vocabularies. The delicate bones of their arms and ribs absorb his voice, shattering their knowledge of what is possible.
Acknowledgments
Three women were crucial in this novel’s journey to your hands. Though my dear friend Peg Libertus did not live to see its publication, her early and highly enthusiastic support for the idea of A. Hope kept me going as I slogged through the earliest versions. I am very grateful to my agent, Mollie Glick, for saying yes to me and the story of Adam Hope. Her professionalism and warmth made the process of finding publication astoundingly smooth. Lee Boudreaux’s reassuring cheer, lucid edits, and trust in my creativity invigorated the final revisions, opening up solutions I wouldn’t have thought of on my own. I am very fortunate to have these three on my team.
I am thankful for the many friends and fellow writers who patiently read this book in manuscript form and gave me the impetus and the tools to push on. Special acknowledgment must be given to those who read the awful first drafts in part or full, without laughing or trying to smack some sense into me: Susan Mickelberry, Susan Gildersleeve, Julie Robitaille, David O’Gorman, Manuel Martinez, Margaret Luongo, Richard Nuñez, Naana Horne, Kathy DeWitt, Sidney Bertisch, Peggy Payne, and Flo Turcotte. Pat Rowe and June Edelstein read earlier drafts and offered unbridled encouragement throughout the process. My fellow Writers’ Alliance of Gainesville members Frank Fiordalisi, Robin Ecker, Shari King, Persis Granger, and Art Crummer spent many a Thursday afternoon poring over The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope. Their supportive critiques were invaluable to me.
Robin Ecker and Deb Jennings generously gave me the benefit of their years of experience with horses. Other friends and family have provided research, support, ideas, or observations: Roxanne Colwell, Dot and Kit Martin, and the Gainesville group of Like-Minded Women.
I am personally grateful to my children, Daniel and Rachel, who suffered, with very little complaint, the deprivations of a tiny rental house so I could afford a sabbatical to write. I thank Doran for years of friendship that have nourished my imagination and my heart.
The final revisions were written with the support of an Individual Artist Fellowship from the State of Florida Division of Cultural Affairs.
My appreciation for the writing of Michael Ondaatje, Terry Tempest Williams, and Craig Childs has informed this novel. My humble thanks to them for how well they have done their jobs.
I would also like to acknowledge the efforts of all who seek to protect and conserve Nature, particularly those who work to preserve the purity and plenty of Florida’s amazing and endangered waterways. If this novel has sparked your interest in the springs of Florida, please visit http://floridaconservationcoalition.org/ or http://www.floridastateparks.org/
About the Author
RHONDA RILEY is a graduate of the creative writing program at the University of Florida. This is her first novel. She lives in Gainesville, Florida.
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Credits
Cover Design by Allison Saltzman
Cover photograph by Mark Owen/Arcangel Images
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.