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

The rubber tips on the crutches made squeaky noises as I tried to tiptoe across the hardwood floor. My ears strained to hear any other sounds. There was nothing except the hum of the fridge and the tick-tick of the old hallway clock.

It felt like it took hours to get to the kitchen. I reached for my phone. My hands trembled as I tapped out 911. I needed the police to come.

Only there was no call, no bars on my phone. No Service.

What should I do? Get out of the Cottage!

This wasn’t a horror movie where the starlet waits around for the Slasher to appear. I moved to the patio door as fast as I could. I pulled, but I couldn’t open it. The door was locked.

The intruder, this Daniel, must have come in another way.

Ever so carefully, I slid open a drawer and pulled out a steak knife. If this Daniel came at me, I could wave it around to threaten him. But how was I to use the crutches, carry the knife and not stab myself? No time for an elegant solution. I had to move. I stuck the blade between my teeth, the sharp edge away from my lips.

I held my breath and listened. Still nothing, but the fridge and the clock. Slowly, I made my way down the hallway to the front door. One glance at the deadbolt showed me that the front door was locked, too. Did Daniel come in, write that letter, leave, locking the door behind him?

I stood there like a dummy trying to figure it out. Then there was a light scraping sound at the door and the deadbolt handle slowly turned.

He was back.

Fear glued my feet to the floor. I watched with growing panic as the lock clicked. The door handle turned. The door began to open.

"Emma, it—”

SLAM! I threw my body against the door. The crutches clattered on the floor. My fingers scrabbled to close the lock again.

I rested my face against the door, panting. A fist struck the wood from the other side again and again. The solid knocking thumped against my face, sending the ugly vibration through my head. The deadbolt knob started to move again. I grabbed it to keep it in place, my fingers squeezed against the metal.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I demanded, my voice breathless and pathetic.

The response came from two inches away on the other side of the wood panel.

“Emma? It’s me, TJ. Are you hurt?” He sounded as terrified as I felt. “I’m coming in.”

“Wait!” I swallowed my fear. “Wait. You’ll knock me down.” I flipped the lock, picked up the crutches, and collapsed on a step.

“Now?” he asked.

“Yes, now,” I called out, my heart thundering in my ears.

At first, the door opened an inch then flew back in a rush. His head swiveled around, taking in the situation. Seeing that all was quiet, he knelt at the bottom of the steps.

"Emma, are you okay?" His soft words, spoken with a Southern caress, were meant to comfort a frightened child. "What's wrong?"

What could I say? Somebody—somebody named Daniel—broke into the house while I was asleep, wrote me a love letter, and left, locking the door behind him? It sounded ridiculous to me, even though that is what happened. I was sure of it. This country boy would think I was a skittish female from the city who jumped at every odd sound that came with living close to nature. The man would resign from the caretaker job before he started. Or worse yet, he’d be at the Cottage all the time. My mind whirled with the possibilities, but the one that didn’t occur to me was about to happen.

“Emma, I’m so sorry. I was trying to be considerate. Mr. Saffire gave me a key so you wouldn’t have to run to the door every time I came by.” He glanced away and sighed. “Look, I thought I’d open the door and yell out to let you know I was here. I meant to save you some steps, not to scare you.”

He didn’t factor in that my nerves would be jangling from finding a letter from an unknown admirer inside my locked house. I wasn’t ready to reveal its existence, but I was hell-bent on preventing it from happening again.

TJ slipped his John Deere hat off like a courteous schoolboy. His light brown hair, streaked blonde by the sun, fell over his ears. He took out his key ring. “Here, I can give you my key to your front door. I can’t promise it’s the only key outstanding, but at least you’ll have mine.”

The perfect solution. "I have a better idea. You bring up an important point. There might be other keys out there in possession of people who are not as honest as you are. What do you think about changing all the door locks and making sure the window locks work? Can you do that, TJ?"

He looked around and twisted his mouth a little as he considered the situation. "You only have two doors, including the one out to the patio. Yes, ma’am, I can handle it. No problem, but I’ll have to go into town to get the locks.”

“Can you do it today?”

He nodded as he held out a hand to help me stand up.

“Oh, that’s okay. I can do it myself. I have to do it myself if I’m going to get back to normal.” I put my hand on the newel post and, using one crutch, I struggled to