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

the morning, you’ll know I didn’t sneak into the room to swap out the letters in the middle of the night. Then maybe you’ll believe me.”

He thought for a few moments. “That’s a good way to resolve things. We’ll have dinner, write the letter and call it a night.” Then he added in a voice that put distance between us. “By morning, I’ll either know the truth or know to tell Mr. Saffire that you need more help than I can offer. Do we have a deal?”

If Daniel didn’t write back by tomorrow morning, I’d lose TJ as a friend and have to deal with an attorney who’d been told I was crazy. It was a gamble, but I knew it would be when I decided to tell him the truth.

I held out my right hand. “Deal.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“Don’t be afraid to write of little things. …Things that are worth talking about are worth writing about. When absent from home, we gloat over the simplest details. Anything and everything that calls up the picture of home with all its dear associations and makes us forget for the moment that we are scores or hundreds of miles away.”

How to Write Letters

by Professor J. Willis Westlake, 1883

We scavenged our way through the fridge and cabinets to stretch the meal Maria had left me into a dinner for two. Our conversation was stilted. Ghost could feel the tension in the air. He kept watching us, looking first at TJ, then me, then back to his master. Finally, he gave up with a snort and found the perfect spot for an after-dinner nap. I thought how much easier it was to be a dog than a human.

"Shall we write the next letter?" I suggested as we finished putting the dishes in the sink.

“I thought you were going to do that?”

“I am, but, from this point on, I want you to walk every step with me until you either accept what’s happening or you walk away convinced that I’m crazy. I thought that was our deal.”

He stretched. “You’re right. If I walk away now, Daniel, whatever he is, will bother me forever. Let’s get to work.”

I sat at the old plantation desk with TJ hovering over me. It was curious that I didn't feel like he was intruding or judging what I was doing. Instead, it was comforting that I had a partner in this adventure. At least, he would be a partner if I proved that Daniel was on the other side of our correspondence. It was time.

“I try to respond to Daniel’s most recent letter. I think it’s safer than introducing a new tangent,” I explained.

“That’s fine. Do what you think is appropriate. I’m new at this so, I’ll watch.”

I slipped a sheet of paper in front of me. After removing the cover of the inkwell, I dipped the old-style pen into the ink and began.

Dear Daniel,

Please tell me more about the secret buried by the Lone Oak. I know you and my father believe that it will keep me safe. These are unsettled times. Knowledge shall be my shield.

I turned and looked at TJ. He was frowning.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s short and sweet,” he said.

“Yes, and…?”

“Let’s ask something specific. You were wondering about the miniature Emma is wearing in the portrait. Ask him about it.”

I turned back to the letter, thinking. What could I say that wouldn’t reveal I wasn’t his Emma? I picked up the pen again, dipped it into the ink and added the line and closing to the letter so it read:

Dear Daniel,

Please tell me more about the secret buried by the Lone Oak. I know you and my father believe that it will keep me safe. These are unsettled times. Knowledge shall be my shield.

I will keep the secret as close to my heart as I do the miniature.

Yours most sincerely,

Emma

"Yes, that's good. Let's see how Daniel responds to the mention of the necklace."

And, I thought, it’s something I know nothing about, which will help prove I’m telling the truth. And if the necklace was a product of the artist’s imagination, Daniel might be confused or even angry.

I'd been so careful about what I'd written up to now, but I couldn't argue with TJ. I hid my unease as I signed the letter, moved it to the center of the desk's writing surface, and covered the inkwell.

“Now, what?” TJ asked.

“Now, we wait. Usually, I go to bed and find his response on the desk in the morning. You can sleep in the spare room upstairs, but it might be better if you slept here. That way, you’ll know I didn’t sneak in a reply while you were sleeping. I can give you a comforter and pillows. What do you want to do?”

“Have you ever been in the room when his letter appeared?”

“No,” I said slowly. “I never thought of that.”

"I have a sleeping bag in the truck I use during the harvest when I can't get home. I'll close the door and stretch out in the hallway. I don't want to scare away this Daniel, this ghost."

“But—”

"It's okay, it's only one night. Ghost and I have slept in worse conditions."

It didn’t take long to get them settled and for me to go upstairs and put my head down on my pillow. I’d sounded so positive when I was telling TJ about Daniel. This was the test. Would Daniel reply?

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“A person’s social, intellectual, and moral culture are indicated in his letters, as plainly as in his manners, dress, and conversation.”

How to Write Letters

by Professor J. Willis Westlake, 1883

The next morning, something woke me at dawn. My first thought made me