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

And now this! Paper scattered everywhere, as if flung into the air in a fit of rage. Did Emma fail to join him? Was this another betrayal in his life, one that had finally broken his heart and ignited eternal grief and fury? I could feel the salt of my tears sting my eyes and my skin as they trickled down my cheeks.

“There you are,” the male voice stated with some relief. TJ had come as if I’d called him. “I thought I’d find you here. Did you know you left your front door open?” he said in his calm, laid-back way. “I see we had the same idea. I was wondering how the cabin… whoa!”

I knew he’d taken in the papers strewn everywhere and he’d realized what it probably meant.

“It looks like… did Daniel… does this mean…” TJ touched my arm as I continued to stand with my back to him. I didn’t want him to see me crying. “Emma?”

“I’m so sorry,” I wailed.

He turned me toward him, put his arms around me, and let my tears soak into his Oxford cloth shirt. He didn’t say a word. What could he say? The evidence was clear that we’d failed to reunite the lovers of old. After all the research to uncover the true Emma of Daniel’s world and their connection. After the discovery of who had torn them apart. After the search for a treasure that was rumored to be rich enough to be life changing. After the terrifying murder of a young man in our time. After TJ rebuilt the cabin and…

It had all ended in disappointment and rage.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured as I looked up at TJ.

“Okay, time to dry your tears.” He pulled out a cloth handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans. “Let’s see what happened here.”

“Isn’t it obvious. I-I-I failed them,” I sputtered.

“Sh-h-h, we don’t know that yet.” He went around the small cabin interior, collecting the papers flung everywhere. “Didn’t you say that if our efforts to reunite Emma and Daniel failed, he would write a scathing letter about betrayal and being abandoned?”

I nodded, sure that if I spoke, I’d start crying again.

TJ held up a fistful of white sheets to me. “Emma, every one of these pages are blank.”

I took the sheets and inspected them. What he said was true. “Maybe his words have already faded as they did with his letters to me?”

“You have been checking the cabin religiously several times a day for the past two weeks.

“How did you know…”

“Because you’re not the only one who wants them to be happy. I’ve been anxious to know if what we did worked. I haven’t found any evidence of correspondence from Daniel. You’ve told me you haven’t found anything either, right?”

I nodded.

“So, I don’t think Daniel did this. I don’t think he made this mess. I think the storm…” he paused, his green hazel eyes slowly inspecting the ceiling, the door, the window… “Ah ha! Here’s your culprit.” He pointed to a partially broken glass pane in the window overlooking the creek and the Lone Oak tree. He looked outside. “Yes, there’s a branch on the ground. Probably broke off in the storm. “And if Daniel were sending you a message, he probably would have shredded that.” He pointed to the origami butterfly I’d folded from crimson paper and left in a cubbyhole for the lovers, to symbolize a soul set free and a bond of love to last forever. It sat just where I’d left it weeks ago. “Stop your worrying, please. I think we succeeded.”

TJ was ever optimistic, and I decided to follow his lead. It was so much better than the alternative. I folded his handkerchief and stuck it in my pocket. “I’ll put this through the wash.”

“OH! I almost forgot.” He reached into his shirt pocket. “I wanted to check on the cabin and to show this to you, a letter I found last night.”

He handed me a small envelope, a little discolored, with a heavily-cancelled one-cent stamp in the corner. There was a letter inside.

“You’ll see by the cancellation that it was written during the Civil War and addressed to Emma Collins, Daniel’s Emma, I think.”

Carefully, I took out the letter and unfolded it, eager to read it.

“Be careful,” he said softly. “Look at the notation there at the bottom. I suspect Emma wrote it.”

The letter signed Sally (Sarah Lowndes). The notation written in a different hand read:

Curious, I asked, “Who was Sally?”

“I’m not sure. But I suspect you have a new research project.”

Are you intrigued?

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Acknowledgements & Notes

Betty Dorbin, librarian and lover of history, traces her family roots on the Eastern Shore back to the 1600s. One area of the family’s estate that continues to exist is the family graveyard. She has meticulously researched her family history and was kind to share what she’d learned during a leisurely stroll on a brilliant fall day.

Keith Shortall of Shortall Farm on the Eastern Shore, a man with rich soil under his fingernails, was so kind to share his time and expertise so TJ could be presented honestly and correctly.

University of Maryland Extension Service was a wonderful source of farming information.

Heartfelt thanks to James Dawson, owner of the Unicorn Bookshop, Trappe, Maryland and editor of 100 Years of Change on the Eastern Shore: The Willis Family Journals 1847-1951. Not only was it a wonderful source for chapter quotes, reading the entries helped bring alive the times when Daniel and Emma lived.

Though Stephani was an interesting character, the