Letters in Time, Reiss Susan [read me a book TXT] 📗

know what your schedule is, but if you’re running back and forth to Easton, you may be able to help me out.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I have regular appointments for physical therapy sessions and I need a driver.  Do you think you might be interested?” I’d imposed enough on TJ's time. Plus, Stephani and I could spend the time in the car talking about local history.

“Sure, I could do that if we can mesh our schedules,” she said.

“I’ll pay you, of course.”

She almost giggled. “If you can cover my gas, that would be great.”

“I think I might be able to do better than that.” I held up the card she’d given me. “Why don’t I call you and we can compare notes? I might even be able to change my schedule of appointments to coincide with your schedule.”

She had a dazzling smile. “That sounds great.” She swung the purse strap on her shoulder. The weight seemed to throw her off balance for a moment. “Is there anything else?”

"As a matter of fact, there is.” I shuffled through the papers that had hidden the small book. “There’s an article in this book about a woman who once lived on the Point over there."

“Oh, you mean Virtue Violl,” Stephani put her big purse down on the table again. “Everybody around here knows about her. They say that her ghost walks some nights when there is a full moon.” She held up her hands and shook them as she made scary noises. “I hope you don’t believe in that kind of thing.”

“No, it’s not about Virtue. This woman lived over there almost a hundred years after Virtue.” I picked up the book and opened it to the bookmark. “Here it is. Her name was Katie Cobin." When I looked up, Stephani’s face had gone so pale that she looked like she was carved out of marble. “Stephani?”

She took in a sudden breath. “Y-yes, why do you want to know about her? It’s only hocus-pocus.”

"I know, but it's part of the history or folklore that touches the Cottage. Do you think you can find me more information about Katie? It says…" I checked the page again. “Yes, here it is. There's a brief mention that her ghost still walks ‘for a reason.’ Do you know what that reason is?"

“No.” Her voice was thin enough to fit through a straw.

“Well, maybe your research will tell us something,” I suggested. Stephani still stood like a statue. “It’s worth a try or maybe we could ask the reference librarian when he comes back from his conference.”

A hitch of breath came out of her mouth.  And I felt guilty. “Don’t worry, your reputation as a research intern is safe with me.” It was good to see a young person dedicated to her job.

“Oh, okay.  Thanks.” Stephani moved her head so her dark hair swung back and forth. “I’ll see what I can do.” she said as she left, taking the brightness of the day with her.

I settled back in the chair and looked around. As a child, I’d loved watching the world from this spot. It gave me a wide view of the creek, the Lone Oak, and more. Nothing had really changed. The creek still ran with the tidal shifts. The Lone Oak was a bit taller, but today, the vista was flat. I only saw the brittle brown edges of the normally bright pink petals of the massive Crepe Myrtle bushes. The fiery red maple leaves looked rusty without the sun’s rays shining down on them. A gray-white cloud cover had sucked the sparkle out of everything. The scene fit my mood. Bored and boring. With nothing to really engage my mind, thoughts I had been pushing away overtook me.

I loved being a kindergarten teacher and I missed my little students. I think my career choice was fed by my experiences with Uncle Jack. Yes, he was a beloved uncle, but so much more. I admired him. He was always there to guide and protect me. He always encouraged me to try new things, expand my horizons. I wanted to be like him, for other children. To do for them what he had done for me. Now that my life had changed, I finally admitted I still needed Uncle Jack. But I had to face it. He was gone. Tears prick my eyes.

“Are you okay, lady?” a rough male voice asked.

Three young men had slipped around the far corner of the Cottage and taken up positions on the edge of the patio, the tallest one in front. All my protective city instincts kicked in. Reaching for the phone, I said in the most menacing voice I could muster, "Get out! I'm calling the police."

The tall one held up his hands in surrender. “Stephani would tell you there’s no need for that. I guess we just missed my big sister.”

Big sister?  As those words sunk into my brain, I started breathing again. If he was Stephani’s brother, he was probably all right. I never would have guessed the young man was related to Stephani. His hair was muddy blonde compared to her luxurious chocolate brown. He had an impressive unibrow, but her eyebrows were gently shaped. His head was long and narrow with a squared-off chin compared to her delicate heart-shaped face. And his smile was puny.

"I’m Josh. I thought I'd come by to be neighborly," he said as he looked around, taking in the crutches. He stepped forward and extended his hand. "And I wanted to express my condolences."

I hesitated then shook hands. “Thank you.”

Then the young man held his