Letters in Time by Reiss Susan (i love reading books .txt) 📕

was time to admit that I had absolutely no ideas for the book. A nurse had suggested writing about the accident and my recovery. "It might inspire others," she'd said. A shudder ran through me. The last thing I wanted to do was relive any moment of the past months.

I shifted my thoughts back to Daniel. I had to make a choice. Fear wasn’t the emotion pushing me toward a decision. It was curiosity. Who was this man? Who was Emma? What had happened to them?

While I was pondering these questions, I heard strange scrabbling noises coming from the front door, quickly followed by intense knocking. Resigned to another onslaught of visitors, I called out. “I’m coming!” and assumed the position with the crutches firmly under my arms. The knocking continued until I threw the deadbolt and flung open the door.

“Yes, yes, what’s so urgent?” I barked.

The short woman with her strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a bun on the top of her head jumped back. Her pear-shaped body made me think of the children’s rhyme about something wobbling, but it wouldn’t fall down. I had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she sputtered. “I thought I’d been locked out and I ask you, how am I to do my job if I can’t get into the kitchen.”

Her non-stop talking made me think that no amount of coffee would have prepared me for the arrival of this magpie. She hustled past me with grocery store bags dangling from her arms. She was half-way down the hall, when she suddenly stopped, turned around oh so slowly, and looked at me.

Her voice cracked with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. “You’re not Miss Emma, are you?”

Not every out-of-the-way house has a person on crutches standing at the door. I didn't want to scare her away, if she was Maria, hired to shop, cook, and clean.

I gave her a weak smile. “Yes, I’m afraid I am.”

Her eyelids closed slowly and she looked like she wanted to sink right through the floor.

“Let me guess, you’re Maria,” I said gently.

All the bags rustled as she held her arms wide and announced, “Yes, that would be me.”

“I understand you’re my angel of the kitchen and all things domestic. Welcome!”

She smiled with relief. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “But I’m here to take care of the house and your meals, Miss Emma.” Her rising comfort level showed as her sentences got longer. She seemed like one tough lady, but the glittery eye shadow above heavy black lashes showed she had a girly side. She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes in confusion. “So, if you know who I am and why I’m here, why did you lock me out? I can’t do anything standing outside.”

“It’s my fault. I had TJ change the locks on the doors yesterday.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t personal.”

“Well, I’m sure glad you’re home. I thought I was going to have to take all this food back to my house. It’s not cold enough yet to leave it on the steps.” She huffed and turned toward the kitchen with her bundles. “People in my town always leave the kitchen door unlocked, so a neighbor can drop in or get something like I did last night. I was making a pot of chili only to find I was out of chili powder, so I went next door to Helen’s, took her chili powder, and finished up my dinner, but don't you worry, because I'll replace what I took. That's the way we do things here on the Shore."

I could tell it was going to take some effort to decipher those long, run-on sentences. As they kept coming, she bustled around the kitchen, reporting on the items she'd brought as she placed them in cabinets and the fridge.

“I wish I could help you put away the groceries,” I said.

“Ha!  This ain’t nothing. There are more bags in the car. And Honey, if you could carry the bags and put away the food, I’d be out of a job. You do your stuff and I’ll do mine. We straight on that?”

“Yes ma’am, we’re straight.”

She took the bottle of painkillers from the table.  “What about these?”

I stepped forward without thinking and started to wobble. It was embarrassing for her to see how unstable I was, but she was at my side with a firm grasp on my arm.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

Maria ignored my moment of weakness and shook the pill bottle. "Where do you want to put these pills so you remember to take them on time because you need to stay in front of the pain as the nurses like to say." She inspected my face. "You did take your pills this morning, didn't you?"

I wanted to say yes, but I braced for the lecture that would come when I shook my head.

“No, eh?” She tapped the top of the chair, the unspoken instruction to sit down, and she pulled a glass from the cupboard.

Dutifully, I sat down. Instead of a lecture, Maria handed me a full glass of water and the pill bottle minus the top. I took the pill with a sip and tried to hand her the glass.

“Nope, drink it all. It helps it work somehow, I don’t know how, but it does.” She watched as I did. “Now, you must have a Smartphone of some kind, right?”

I pulled the useless telephone communication device from my pocket.

"Now, set an alarm for your next pill, so we won't have this problem again," Maria instructed.

Sometimes, good ideas come from the most unlikely places. I did as she suggested while she launched into a story about one of her uncles.

As I listened with half an ear in