Letters in Time

by Reiss Susan

  I loved being a kindergarten teacher and I missed my little students. I think my career choice was fed by my experiences with Uncle Jack. Yes, he was a beloved uncle, but so much more. I admired him. He was always there to guide and protect me. He always encouraged me to try new things, expand my horizons. I wanted to be like him, for other children. To do for them what he had done for me. Now that my life had changed, I finally admitted I still needed Uncle Jack. But I had to face it. He was gone. Tears prick my eyes.

  “Are you okay, lady?” a rough male voice asked.

  Three young men had slipped around the far corner of the Cottage and taken up positions on the edge of the patio, the tallest one in front. All my protective city instincts kicked in. Reaching for the phone, I said in the most menacing voice I could muster, "Get out! I'm calling the police."

  The tall one held up his hands in surrender. “Stephani would tell you there’s no need for that. I guess we just missed my big sister.”

  Big sister? As those words sunk into my brain, I started breathing again. If he was Stephani’s brother, he was probably all right. I never would have guessed the young man was related to Stephani. His hair was muddy blonde compared to her luxurious chocolate brown. He had an impressive unibrow, but her eyebrows were gently shaped. His head was long and narrow with a squared-off chin compared to her delicate heart-shaped face. And his smile was puny.

  "I’m Josh. I thought I'd come by to be neighborly," he said as he looked around, taking in the crutches. He stepped forward and extended his hand. "And I wanted to express my condolences."

  I hesitated then shook hands. “Thank you.”

  Then the young man held his hands together at his waist and gently nodded like a priest. “Mr. Jack was a good man.”

  I wanted to think he was sincere, but something felt off. Or maybe it was the painkiller. I mentally shook myself and touched the note to call the doctor’s office about the pills. They might be skewing my thinking.

  Josh continued. “Let me introduce my associates.” He opened his arms to include the two boys who had appeared with him.

  "This is Justin. We call him the Tin Man." The short, lanky boy had narrow hips that barely held up his jeans. His straight blonde hair was parted in the middle and combed down over his ears with short pieces like bangs brushed to the sides. He moved up and glanced at Josh. As if he'd received permission, he stepped forward and shook my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Then he moved back and stood behind Josh’s right shoulder.

  The third young man seemed nervous about being left out so, he stepped up. “Hello, I’m Edward Ray.”

  Josh shot him a look of disapproval, complete with narrowed eyes and a slight shake of his head. "Yes, he is the newest addition to our little group. We call him Toad."

  "Toad?" The name escaped my lips in surprise. It wasn't an appropriate nickname for a boy with clear skin, curly dark brown hair, a bright grin, and deep dimples. I thought it was a more appropriate nickname for Josh whose body shape was square. It must be a teenage male dynamic to give the best looking one in the group an ugly name.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said proudly. “It’s a nickname.” Toad scurried back to his position behind Josh and Tin Man.

  “That’s our posse,” Josh said, almost formally. “We welcome you to the area. If there’s anything we can do to make your life easier...” He gestured to the crutches. “All you have to do is let me know. We can be helpful.” He gave me a smile that dripped with sugary sweetness.

  The patio door banged open and Maria, my housekeeper, marched outside. “I think you should leave Miss Emma alone and leave,” she announced. “Now.”

  “Of course. It was nice to meet you.” His words were polite, but his eyes were hard as he looked at the woman who had interrupted his visit.

  “You might phone first before you just pop in,” I called out as Josh led the group away, hoping to draw some boundaries.

  I barely caught what Maria mumbled under her breath. “Or don’t come at all.” I was about to quiz her when she launched into one of her monologues of run-on sentences.

  “I was beginning to think someone had kidnapped you. I looked all over the Cottage, downstairs, of course, and even upstairs, not that you would go upstairs in the middle of the day, but one never knows what someone is going to do.” She took a deep breath. “When I saw those boys here…” Her mouth tightened. “I wanted to grab a rolling pin and chase them away.” She caught my glance at her empty hands. “I didn’t know if you had one. Instead of wasting time looking for it, I figured I could …” Her mouth tenses. Then, with renewed energy, she went on, "I'm here because TJ warned me that the telephone company called him to say that the installer was coming today and that I should be here to let him in, so you weren't disturbed, in case you were napping on the sofa or something."

  After my brain waded through all those words, I sat up in my chair in excited anticipation. “He’s coming to install the internet connection?”

  "And the phone, yes," she added. "He drove up behind me."

  Thrilled with the idea of being connected to the world again, I reached for my crutches. “At last.”

  "Don't you trouble yourself. Leave the poor man to do his job because it's getting late. You want him to finish today." She looked down and shook her head decisively. “No, a job half-done is not a job finished.”

  To me, her logic was baffling. With a little shake of my head, I said, “No, I should—”

  “Stay right where you are. I’ll bring you a snack like they do in England. Oh, what do they call it…?” Her drone drifted away as she went inside.

  I was almost afraid to move without Maria’s permission. A chilling thought crossed my mind: she might take away my crutches if I don’t behave. I leaned back in my chair and a smile grew on my face. This was turning into a Very Good Day. First, I made it to the P.T. appointment without hysteria and won the right to use both legs to walk. Progress. Definitely progress.

  The visit to the library had turned up some fascinating research. Seeing the field fire—well, maybe that wasn't so good for the landowner, but I had to admit it was exciting. The memory of the lights and sirens and the reaction they triggered in me darkened my mood. But I reminded myself, I handled the flashback without too much trouble. And I had found myself a driver so I didn't have to rely so much on TJ, the mystery man. Also, Stephani showed promise as a researcher.

  I put my hand on the growing stack of research materials and smiled. Yes, I was getting a lot of information. Then, like a trickle of cold water turns into a gushing torrent, a lack of confidence took over my being.

  And what was I going to do with it all?

  Chapter Eighteen

  “The task of a writer consists of being able to make something out of an idea.”

  — Thomas Mann

  Now, what? Yes, that question was haunting me. What was I going to do with all my free time?

  I'd made the move from Philadelphia. I was settled at the Cottage. My medical condition was improving. Support services were in place. Now, I should focus my efforts on writing a book. I had lots of information and stories, but I didn't want to write my first book about witches. The kids might like it, but stories about witches and ghosts always scared me as a child.

  If I were honest with myself, the story of Daniel and Emma had captured my imagination as I was piecing it together. But a picture book about a young couple in love who'd lived at Waterwood so long ago? I laughed out loud thinking about the "I'm gonna vomit" look on the boys' faces and the girls' moon-y expressions. The young lovers' story was for adults. What did I know about writing for adults? The thought almost made me break out in a cold sweat. I worked with little ones. I understood little ones. Not love.

  I thought I’d found my forever love in high school. Our hopes, our dreams, our plans meshed. Our relationship even survived four years of college. He majored in pre-med. I studied elementary education with a concentration on kindergarten. Right
after graduation, we married in what I thought was a storybook wedding. Armed with my teaching certification, I got a job in the same city as his medical school. We planned to start our family when he knew where he’d do his internship. Everything was set. What I didn’t see coming was the fact that I wasn’t the only woman in his life. I was his ticket to becoming a doctor while he chased after everything in scrubs. How could a woman who’d locked away feelings of betrayal and rejection write about true love? I’d packed away my dreams of love and family so I could get up every morning. I gave what love I had to the kids. I touched the place where I’d once worn my necklace and smiled. My kids.

  No, I needed to find a story for a picture book for my kids. The clock was ticking. Information resources were in place now with the support of Stephani, my researcher, and the soon-to-be installed internet connection. I needed an idea. TJ was right. I hated to admit the support of other writers was important, especially to a newbie like me. And my first writing group meeting was tomorrow night. They'd want to know what I was working on. It was only natural. I wished I could answer one question: What are you writing about?

  Maria flew through the door with a tray of goodies and more commentary. "I have a surprise for you and you're going to love it so much."

  Behind her stood a man in jeans and a plaid shirt with a belt of tools hanging at his waist. In one smooth motion, Maria offered him the plate of cookies. While munching, he made sure I could connect to the internet.

  “Well,” he declared. “We know that works and—”

  A sound of a ringing telephone came from inside the house.

  “And we know the phone works, too.” He smiled. “Even though I’d already checked that.”

  I signed all the paperwork and insisted the man take a handful of cookies with him while Maria waited with the cordless receiver. It was supposed to be only for emergencies and to piggyback with the internet connection.

  “It’s your sister.” She hustled over and handed me the phone before I could wave her off. Well, I guess even good days must have a dip or two to make us appreciate them.

  I plastered a smile on my face and lifted the phone. “Hello, sister.”

  “Oh, Emma, thank goodness! I haven’t heard from you. Why haven’t you called? So many horrible things kept popping up in my imagination. I thought I was going to have to come down there myself to protect my sanity." She sighed. “How's my little sister?"

  When I realized my sister and Maria had something in common, I had to smother a giggle. They both could spew out a flood of words in a single breath.

  She barely paused. “How are you doing? All moved in? And I have wonderful news. I think I can come down in two weeks. Still have a few things to work out, but I have to make sure you’re okay. Mother would never—”

  "Caroline!" I said and winced because it was a bad idea to yell at my big sister. Her tears would flow for the smallest reason. I should be polite. After all, she was the only close relative I had left. I didn't want to think about Uncle Jack right now or my sister would notice and bombard me with calls, questions, and eventually, a visit.

  “Caroline,” I repeated in a gentler voice. “It’s wonderful that you care so much. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. I’m making spectacular progress.” Silently, I gave thanks that I didn’t have to lie about my progress. “I think the worst is over. I only need to rest and do my exercises.”

  Like fuel tossed on a fire, she pounced. “Are you doing your exercises? Is there someone there making sure you do? Would a personal trainer help?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip to keep myself from screeching at her. After taking a deep breath, I calmly responded. “I’m surrounded by good people who are helping and encouraging me. One highly-motivated individual is keeping me focused.”

  I swear she never took a breath. “Really? Who? Did you meet someone? Tell me—”

  “Caroline, it’s me. There’s no one on the planet more motivated to get back to normal than me. Now, you’ll have to trust me. I’m doing well and getting stronger every day.”

  Silence on the line. Uh oh, was she cooking up some other scheme to complicate my life?

  “Well, if you’re sure,” she said reluctantly.

  I almost gasped in surprise. Quietly, I said, “Yes, dear, I’m sure.”

  "I don't want anything else bad to happen to my little sister." Her motherly voice could suck the air out of a conversation.

  "I appreciate that. You need to take care of yourself and—"

  “But I’m okay. Todd watches out for me and the girls. You don’t have anyone,” she whined as if it was my fault.

  Ah, the pity was about to flood the line as usual and I’d had enough of it, going back years. “Oh, Caroline. I have to go. The telephone man needs to finish up the job,” I said quickly.

  “But—"

  “Give my love to everybody. I’ll talk to you soon. Thanks for calling. Bye.” I clicked the Off button and put the phone down with a sigh. That might have been my first call from my sister on the newly installed line, but it wouldn’t be the last. I made a mental note to get a new phone with a clear caller-ID display.

  I gathered the research papers and notes into a stack. I couldn't absorb one more thing. This had been an exhausting day. Maria, with her uncanny sense of knowing when she was needed, appeared with a fresh dish of cookies.

  "Thank you, but no. I don't need any more cookies. If you leave them here, I'll eat them all." I began to pull the crutches into position when Maria put her hand on my arm.

  “You won’t need these right yet and the cookies aren’t for you. Sit down. You have visitors.”

  I stayed in the chair and had the weird feeling that her uncanny abilities had stretched to forecasting the future. My eyes followed her as she pulled out two chairs and dusted them off.

  “I’ll get some fresh lemonade and glasses,” she announced as she headed back to the kitchen.

  Sitting alone at the table, it felt like someone had thrown a party and I was the first guest to show up. TJ came around the corner, followed by the police officer in uniform.

  “Outside, enjoying some fresh air?” said the officer. “That’s good, that’s good.” His words were friendly, but something in his manner sounded my warning bell. This wasn’t a social call. There was trouble and it had just arrived on my patio.

  “Afternoon, ma’am. I’m Officer Conklin. We met yesterday. Detective Craig Mason is in charge of the investigation and asked me to come by to see you.”

  “Craig called me,” TJ explained. “He wanted to come by the Cottage earlier to give you some information but got caught up in things.”

  Now, all my warning systems were active and my protective screens were coming online. I wanted to appear calm or else TJ would become a suffocating worrywart. “Of course, why don’t you both sit down? Maria is bringing some—”

  "Fresh lemonade for two hardworking men." She completed my sentence as she put down a tray with four glasses filled with ice and a round pitcher like the Kool-Aid commercials. Once she made sure we had everything we could want, she pulled out another chair and sat down. I almost asked her to go back to the kitchen, but if the subject was safety—if there was a lunatic running around and swinging a shovel in people's faces—she had a right to know. We all turned our attention to the officer.

  When he realized we were waiting, he popped the rest of a cookie in his mouth, took a quick sip to wash it down, and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I'm afraid the news isn't good. Detective Mason is investigating the incident over at the Lone Oak Tree, right over there. Following up on an anonymous tip, a young man was found at the foot of the tree, grievously injured."

  The sociable smile melted off TJ's face. "Yes, we know. It was Kid Billy." TJ’s body stiffened. "What's happened?" His Southern lilt was back. It seemed to show up when something upset him.

  The officer’s eyes swept back and forth, watching us closely for any reactions as he delivered his news i
n a monotone. “The young man died. He died early this morning from wounds inflicted over there.” He jerked his head toward the Lone Oak.

  TJ leaned forward, his face scrunched up in disbelief. “Wait, what? Kid Billy is dead?”

  The officer watched us carefully. "Yes, sir."

  My body sagged as the air went out of me. The next moment was quiet as the news sunk in. Then the questions came fast and furiously as my eyes strayed across the creek.

  I'd seen the lights that first night. Unless the witches of the Point were walking with lanterns, I'd seen the flashlight carried by the killer. My stomach clenched. What if I’d paid attention? What if I’d called the police? Would the boy still be alive? Was I partially responsible? I stared across the creek.

  “Emma?” TJ’s voice penetrated my thoughts.

  “Yes? Sorry, what?”

  “The officer wants to confirm when you saw the lights before you went to bed.”

  I nodded. “Of course. I saw the lights the night before you found the body.”

  The officer looked at me with his eyes narrowed. “Miss Chase, did you call the tip line?”

  A little laugh escaped my lips. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be anonymous, would it?” I didn’t give him time to respond. “Just to be clear, I did not call your tip line. I couldn’t. I didn’t have phone service until a few minutes ago.” I turned to TJ. “By the way, thank you for making that happen.”

  TJ nodded in acknowledgment.

  I directed my attention back to the young officer. “I’m curious. What time did the anonymous call come in?”