But the Books Are All Right?

Someone broke into our car two weeks ago.  It happened on a Saturday night (or early Sunday morning).  That Saturday afternoon, Matt had taken Isaiah and our sister-in-law Magda on one of their favorite excursions--thrift-store shopping--so I could work on some writing projects.  My husband came home glowing with joy.  "We hit the jackpot!" he told me proudly as he opened the trunk of our Honda Accord.  There was a slew of books inside: classic children's books in decent shape.  I spied The Wind in the Willows, Pippi Longstocking, and Betsy, Tacy, and Tib on top of a sprawling pile of titles.  

"And they were free," Matt continued, prouder than before.  Apparently a Catholic elementary school near one of the thrift shops had decided to clean house and left stacks of books outside its doors for people to take.  I gave my husband a big impulsive kiss on the cheek.  This was better than Christmas.

We left the books in the trunk--simply because, in a studio apartment with three people and hundreds of books already, there was nowhere else to keep them--and the next morning, when Matt took Isaiah out for a walk, he discovered the shattered passenger's side window.  Matt called me on his cell to tell me what had happened.  There had been nothing really valuable inside the car, and nothing seemed to be missing.  Our would-be thief hadn't even taken the loose change or the radio.  Matt said it looked like he had just reached in, rifled through the glove compartment and the middle console, and left.  My book of CDs had been opened, but none of the CDs were missing (sometimes it pays to be a nerd).  Matt had already called our insurance company, and they would pay for the window in full.  It seemed like everything was going to be OK.

Then I got a cold, light feeling in my stomach.  "Did you check the trunk?" I asked.  "Are the books still there?"  My wonderful husband, bless his heart, didn't even laugh.  He just reassured me, nerd-to-nerd, that he had checked and the books were safe.

Honda Accords come and go, but a free pile of classic children's books is a rare find.  So is a husband who realizes that.