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

to look for a letter from Daniel, but I wasn't ready to field any questions about Daniel's identity or the nature of our correspondence.

"Maybe you can do some writing this morning," TJ said as he went to the door. "Maria will be here soon. I'll check on you later to see how you're doing."

I wanted to see if Daniel had written overnight, but I wasn’t ready to tempt fate by trying to walk. The fall had frightened me right down to my core. No, I’d wait until Maria arrived. It would be safer to have someone in the house.

Someone, not just Daniel.

Soon, Maria was bustling around, peppering me with questions about why I was ensconced on the sofa. Finally, she gave up. She was fussing around enough already. After another round of pills, I felt strong enough to sneak down the hall to retrieve the latest letter from Daniel and a piece of origami paper, in case I needed to consider things. Back in the living room, I found a fresh mug of hot coffee. Maria was an angel. I settled back to read Daniel's letter.

Dear Emma,

I do not wish to distress you with the specific events that caused your father's anguish. You must know that he did not leave the hearth he shared with you with a clear conscience. He said it was a matter of principle. I hope that this is sufficient to salve the sadness I know you must feel at the absence of your father.

I have something to ask you that I hope does not offend you. Is it possible that you might think of me as more than your Dear Sir? I know my silence has brought you pain. I would not have wanted that in the whole world. 

I hope you know that the situation was out of my control. If you will forgive the silence, might you consider calling me again by my Christian name? 

If I see the words, Dear Daniel, at the opening of your next letter, great calm will settle on my troubled heart. If it is beyond your ability to write those words, I will understand. Our connection through these letters shall be enough.

Please forgive my rudeness and insensitivity.  All I have talked about is myself.  

How are you? If you have a need, know that your possessions are safe and ready for your use. Where there are money and valuables, it is possible to buy safety and freedom. The secret is safe with us. We would never reveal the location to others of that which can keep you safe.

Please tell me how you fare.

Yours most sincerely,

Daniel

I wished I'd had the foresight to bring the inkwell, my steel-nib pen, and paper with me into the living room. How romantic it would be to sit in front of the fireplace and write a response to Daniel's letter. Perhaps it's what his Emma would have done.

“Miss Emma…” Maria’s sudden appearance startled me. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you. I thought you’d hear me coming down the hallway. My husband says I sound like an elephant when I walk around the house. You must be thinking deep thoughts.”

I tried to disguise the fact that Daniel's letter that had fluttered to the floor.

She walked around the sofa and gave me a funny look. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She was a little too inquisitive. If I didn’t get her out of the living room, she would bug me about the letter. “I was doing some research. Did you need something?”

Maria pursed her lips. “I guess you writers have to do some strange things to get inspired.”

“Yes, we do.  Is there something I can do for you before I go back to work?”

“I wanted to let you know that your dinner is in the kitchen. You only have to heat it. I made it super simple for you tonight. Be sure to take it slow so we don't have any more mishaps." She smiled at me and walked out of the room with a wave goodbye.

How did she know? I’d have to remember it wasn’t so easy hiding things from Maria.

I waited until I heard the door close and her car engine start. Convinced I wouldn’t be disturbed, I made my way back to the writing den and composed my response to Daniel.

Dear Daniel,

Thank you for inquiring after my health and well-being. I am comfortable and safe here at Waterwood, where I have always been and always hope to be. But I am sad to report that I am lonely and fearful for the well-being of those I care about. 

No news increases my worry.

Please, I pray, tell me what happened after you left Waterwood with my father. The news of your expedition cannot be worse than not knowing.

Yours with great esteem,

Emma

While waiting for the ink to dry, I thought about the two men who’d left the one place they loved, heading into the horrors of war. With the benefit of history’s hindsight, I knew that more than 620,000 men died in the Civil War, along with more than one million casualties. From my reading, I’d learned that bullets and bayonets were not the only dangers that took men’s lives. Disease struck a brutal blow. Men marched shoulder to shoulder and slept in unventilated tents. Their camps were breeding grounds for germs they could not fight. I resolved to look for the grave of Emma’s father if I visited the Waterwood cemetery again.

I remembered the gravestone carved with the name Emma. My name. Somehow, I had lived through that horrendous collision and I felt a responsibility not to waste a day wallowing in self-pity. But I kept postponing things. I told