Letters in Time Reiss Susan (little red riding hood ebook free txt) 📖

smiled as I hurried as fast as I dared to be ready for my driver.

On the road, we passed a large field of short green plants. “Do you know what they’re growing there?” At heart, I was still a city girl. Like most people, the only crop I could recognize in the field was corn.

“Those are soybeans.”

“Does that land belong to Waterwood?”

He turned quickly and gave me a strange look. “That’s a curious question.”

"I'm learning a bit about Waterwood from the papers I'm reading at the library. It's natural to wonder about the land surrounding the Cottage. I'll read more about it today if you can take me to the library after P.T.?" A feeling of almost desperation surged inside me. It had been a long time since something had sparked my interest like this.

TJ stared at the road for a minute. “I don’t know why it’s so important, but yes, you can research to your heart’s content for about an hour. On the way back, I need to check on something. It won’t take long, okay?”

“That sounds only fair,” I said with a smile. This man was comfortable, easy, not complicated like so many men I’d met since my divorce. We drove along the main route to Easton in relaxed silence until I uttered the obligatory groan as he stopped at the door for P.T. – Pain Today.

The happy therapists worked my body. The only thing that stifled the groans was the thought of going to the library. There was another reward. They gave me permission to begin to use my leg, but it was going to take concentration and patience to master this next step in my healing. After the session, I moved slowly, deliberately, across the sidewalk to meet him as he drove up. He jumped out, came to open the passenger door, and folded his arms across his chest. "Look at you.  You’ve graduated. Well done!” Ghost barked his approval, too.

My face felt warm. I bit my lip to push down the tears that threatened to erupt. Tears, not from frustration, but tears of pride and relief. Maybe the leg would function again. Maybe I'd walk normally again.

He opened my door. “Okay, let’s get this champion into her chariot and away from this painful place.”  He winked. And I smiled.

We stopped for a quick lunch, but I turned down the offer of another ice cream cone. If I kept using ice cream as an antidote for frustration and celebration, my leg wouldn't have a chance of carrying the additional weight that was reappearing at an alarming rate.

At the library, I made my way to the Maryland Room all alone, feeling independent. Stephani sat at the librarian’s desk, her glasses on top of her head holding back her shiny dark hair. She wore a turquoise blue summer sweater set that brought out her blue eyes.

"Emma," she exclaimed. "How nice to see you again." She pulled out a chair at an empty table. "Why don't you sit right here? I have a short stack of things for you. It will only take a moment for me to get them."

I pulled out a notebook in anticipation of what she would bring, like a little girl waiting for milk and cookies after school. Only this was better. I reached over to a library computer and typed in a few keywords for a search. The results were helpful. I had time to make a few quick notes.

“Oh, you found something already.” Stephani reappeared with her arms full.

I closed the cover of my notebook. The last thing I wanted the girl to see were my notes about how to deal with a ghost.

“There’s a lot of material here.” She sat down across the table from me. “Will you be working for the rest of the day?”

I shook my head.  She slid the pile to her side. “Let’s see if I can make it easier for you. Tell me where you are in your research so I can pull out things in a logical order?" She put her arms around the stack as if protecting it from me.

We talked about what I’d found so far about the Cottage and my interest in the Civil War period. That point made her pause for a moment. Her manner seemed strange. Then, throwing off her hesitancy to let me see the papers in the stack, she jumped right in with enthusiasm. She laid papers, files, and pamphlets in front of me with comments about what I might find in each. Family members often spent countless hours doing genealogical research then donated the results to the Maryland Room. There was a page written in Old English with the modern translation typed below. There were old and modern maps. Maybe I'd misjudged this summer intern who showed real love for the research process.

I sat back in the chair and said, “You’ve been very helpful. I appreciate all you’ve done.” The clock chimed the hour.  “I have to leave, but there’s one more thing. I’ve been reading about a witch – though probably just an old woman – by the name of Virtue Violl and another woman named Katie Cobin.”

Stephani stiffened. “Why do you want to know about her?”

I fumbled for a response while trying to figure out why she had become almost hostile. “Curiosity. Do you have anything about her?”

Stephani continued to look at me like I had some oatmeal leftover from breakfast stuck on my lip. Then her face lit up. “Maryland isn’t a state known for its witches. There are only five recorded stories in the whole state.” Her voice climbed higher with her excitement. “But it’s not about witches.