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

“I will. Believe me, this therapist will make sure I don’t reinjure myself. But I do feel stronger every day.”

“No need to rush,” he stressed. “I hope you’re resting all day, every day.”

I swear the man wanted to put me on a glass shelf. “No, I’ve been going to P.T., of course, but I’m doing some research at the library and—”

He cut me off. “You’re not wasting your time trying to write that book you mentioned, are you?”

“Well, I—”

“Oh, my dear Ms. Chase.  You have much to do to recover from your brush with death and all the mind-altering drugs. Relax and don’t worry about a thing. If all goes as I plan, you won’t have to worry about a thing. And with that, I must wish you a good day. I have some other calls to make.”

With hands clenched, I was determined to do things my way, I focused on something else I had to do before the meeting.  I needed to write a response to Daniel’s letter. I knew I wouldn’t have the energy to write it when I got home. I gathered up my things, including my little orange fish, and went inside.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Focus more on your desire than on your doubt and the dream will take care of itself.”

---Mark Twain

I took out Daniel’s letter that I had found on my desk this morning to read the words as he’s written them even though they were already fading away. I knew I had the content saved on my computer and in my photo gallery, but there was something about seeing the words he had formed with his pen.

I had to pause for a moment and give my mind and emotions a little shake. Daniel was becoming very real to me. I had to remember that this was an unearthly presence.

Daniel wasn’t alive, not anymore.  He was lying in a grave somewhere.  I wished he had been buried in the family cemetery. It would’ve helped somehow to see his name carved in stone in the place he loved so much. Where was the body of this man?

I sat quietly and let his words echo in my mind as I reread the story of long ago.  Certain lines touched me:

I wanted you to know that I carried you with me in my heart. But it was not to be. The words brought a tear to my eye. I could do nothing to change the past. I could only offer a little comfort. I made a note to do just that. I read more of his letter.

When the Union soldiers came to Easton, dragged a judge from the bench, and arrested him, it was a source of upheaval. I wanted to find out more about this incident and made a note for my next visit to the library.

Do you remember the time he took away your peppermint stick?  Yes, I couldn’t ignore this reference.

He believed your mother would have supported him in this decision. I’d acknowledge this line, too.

I was honored and humbled when he asked me to accompany him. Daniel deserved my recognition of his loyalty.

My recognition? Oh, dear. I'm getting very involved. It was time to write my response. I took a fresh piece of paper, opened the inkwell, dipped my pen, and wrote to my ghostly correspondent.

My Dear Daniel,

I too was troubled that we could not say goodbye before you left with my father. Sometimes, the good Lord declares that certain things are not to be.

I thank you for offering this correspondence about my dear father and the dilemma he faced. I knew that something was troubling him, but he spoke almost nothing about it to me.  

I too remember the moment he took away my peppermint stick.  It was fraught with tension. I remember the quiet mumblings about the confrontation in Easton with the soldiers and how it upset my father deeply.

I am comforted that you traveled at my father’s side. I can think of no one else I would want with him.

I too feel the absence of my mother most keenly.  If only she were here to support him and, if I may say, me.

You are kind to consider my sensibilities, but I beg that you do not withhold any details –great or small – about the thoughts and musings of my father.  

Please, I pray, continue the story of your journey after you left Waterwood. The more I know, the more I will understand. The more I understand, I hope, the greater peace I will feel in my heart.  

If I may be honest, this sentiment is true about my father and about you. Please, if you feel so disposed, share your thoughts with me as you have so many times before. I await your next letter

Most gratefully and faithfully yours,

Emma

After I blotted the ink and gave it a few minutes to dry, I tucked the letter away in the cubbyhole. I would put it out before I went to bed after the writers meeting.

A glance at my watch made it clear that I had to get going if I was going to take a short nap, dress, and be ready for Catherine when she came to pick me up. I started the slow ascent to the second floor, not sure if I wanted to take a hot shower or a short nap. I suspected that a tall glass of scotch might be a better way to prepare for the evening’s activities.

As I walked past a mirror in my bedroom, I almost gagged at what I saw. Me… with a messy braid and cockeyed bangs. I wasn’t fit to be seen by anyone, let alone a group of observant writers. I grabbed a pair of scissors and headed to