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

letters. "If Emma grew up without a stepmother, she and her father must have been very close. He must have been able to tell his daughter wasn't in love," I suggested, thinking about the close relationship I'd had with Uncle Jack. When I married my high school sweetheart right out of college, Uncle Jack was all smiles at the wedding. In an unguarded moment, I caught a look on his face filled with worry and unhappiness. I ignored it at the time, but when my husband proved to be unfaithful after I helped put him through medical school, I admitted that Uncle Jack was a better judge of people than I was. Divorce was an option for me. It probably wasn't an option for Emma in the 19th century.

TJ went on. “I suspect that Emma’s father knew his daughter well. Anytime anyone in our family talks about Joshua’s presence on our family tree, he’s referred to as the bad seed.”

“I wonder where she got that phrase,” I said.

TJ shook his head. "I have no idea. Records show that Emma and Joshua married, lived at Waterwood, and had two sons and a daughter. The girl died in her early teens, I think.”

“Did Emma die in childbirth? So many women at that time died at a very young age.”

“No, Emma lived to old age. It was unusual for her to have survived childbirth. It probably helped that she only had three babies.” He shrugged. “I guess the fire went out of the marriage.” TJ sighed. “Are you happy now that you know the Ross family history?”

“Yes, I am.” I gave him a big smile. “As a thank-you, how about having dinner with me? Maria is a great cook and she always makes enough for two. Oh!” I realized with a start. “I don’t have anything for Ghost.”

"Fear not, we come prepared." TJ sprinted out of the room with Ghost at his heel.

My mind was filled with thoughts of Emma and Daniel. And why hadn’t I heard from him? While TJ was out of the house, I made my way to the writing den as fast as I could, hoping to find a letter from Daniel. But there was nothing on the desk’s writing surface. Disappointed, I clicked off the overhead light.

There was nothing on the desk? I snapped on the light again. There was no stack of paper. How could Daniel write to me if he had no paper?

Someone had moved the stack of computer paper. Tidying up. Maria. My eyes darted around the room. Where would she put the paper? She must have hidden it away in her constant effort to keep my home neat.

I heard the front door open and close. TJ. But I had to get the paper back to Daniel or I might never know what happened to them.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Okay, I’ll feed Ghost.”

I had only precious moments to find the paper. Desperate, I scanned the bookshelves. Nothing. But I’d forgotten there were large drawers under the writing surface for more storage. I sat in the chair and hunched underneath. Madly, I pulled open the drawers. Nothing. Then I turned to the small file cabinet next to the desk and found the stack of paper in the bottom drawer.

“What are you doing?” TJ asked.

I almost cried out in surprise. I had to think fast. “Found it!” Gripping the stack of paper, Daniel’s paper, I sat up slowly and returned the stack to the desktop. “I remembered I needed some paper and I didn’t know where Maria had hidden it. You know, she is always saying Everything belongs in its place only I don’t always know where that place is.” My laugh sounded weak, but it was the best I could do. “Let’s eat!”

I hustled TJ down the hall and smiled when I heard Ghost crunching happily in the kitchen. Soon, we too were enjoying our dinner.

Chapter Thirty-One

“The Secret of Happiness: A mind always employed is always happy. This is the true secret, the grand recipe, for felicity. The idle are the only wretched.”

– Thomas Jefferson in a letter to his Daughter

TJ and I shared a delightful dinner of delicious food seasoned with some laughs. Ghost had his kibble that TJ carried in his truck. Afterward, I was ready to crawl into my bed for a good night's sleep. As I walked TJ to the front door, Ghost stopped and growled. TJ stopped as well, heeding the alert from his dog. He motioned me to stand still and put his finger to his lips for quiet. My heart thudded in my chest. The PTSD threatened to trigger. The man and his dog crept down the hallway.

We all jumped when sharp knocks hit the door.

“Who is it?” TJ demanded.

It felt like forever before a man’s voice answered with a question. “TJ? It’s Craig. Detective Craig Mason. What’s wrong?”

I leaned against the wall and started breathing again.

Before answering, TJ turned to Ghost, who stood rigid, hackles raised. The stripe of gray fur standing up on his back, a sign he was unsure or angry. TJ said in a stern voice, “Friend.” The dog tore his eyes away from the door, stared at TJ for a long moment then lay down on the floor by his feet, calm, but ready.

TJ opened the door then lowered his voice, but I could still hear him say, "Craig, don't sneak up on us like that, not with a murderer on the loose. Think, man!"

As the detective stepped over the threshold, he whispered an apology to TJ then greeted me. “Evening, Ms.