The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel Read Free

dropped the envelope.
    “Everything all right?” Granny Gilbert called. 
    Eve stood in shadow, frozen, staring down at the letter, now illumined by a stray shaft of morning sun.  The minutes ticked by.  Reluctantly, slowly, carefully, as if it might bite her, Eve leaned and picked up the envelope and straightened.  With a pained expression, she read the address again.  It was hand addressed, written in a beautiful calligraphy script, to Evelyn Sharland in New York City. 
    That was Eve’s name!  Sharland was her maiden name—she’d never taken Blake’s last name.  The letter was addressed to her!
    A shiver ran up her spine.  She swallowed hard.  She saw a 3-cent stamp with a profile of George Washington she’d never seen before.  To her complete astonishment, she also saw that the postmark circle read New York, New York Main Post Office, December 24, 1885, 3PM.  

CHAPTER 2
    Eve lowered herself into a wicker chair, her eyes fixed on the unopened 6 x 8 envelope, her heart racing, her hand trembling.  She stared at nothing for a time, and then her eyes traveled to the lantern that lay on the floor beside her, and then back to the envelope she held in her hand.
    Coincidence?  Of course it was.  What else could it be?  But Sharland was not a common last name.  Shaken, she took a minute to gather herself.  Gradually, her pulse slowed, and her thoughts began to clear.  Of course the letter wasn’t addressed to her.   It was addressed to someone with her name. 
    An electric thrill ran through Eve’s body as she pictured actually opening the letter and reading its contents.  What could it possibly say? 
    “Are you okay?” Granny Gilbert called.
    Eve turned her head.  “Yes… Yes, okay,” she said, distractedly.
    Should Eve show Granny the letter?  Yes, of course she should.  She had found it in her shop.  Granny might have some idea where it came from and how it got there.  But what if Granny didn’t want to sell the letter?  What if she wanted it for herself?  Eve pondered this, focused again on the name and address:  Evelyn Sharland, 232 East 9 th Street, New York, New York.
    As Eve held the envelope, it seemed to burn her fingers.  She had the sharp impulse to open it right then and there.  But she didn’t.  She lifted herself from the chair, picked up the lantern and walked over to Granny Gilbert, who was still in her rocker, reading an article in an old magazine.  Eve couldn’t see the cover, just the yellowed pages and the black and white photos.
    “See anything you like?” Granny asked, looking up, noticing the lantern at Eve’s side.
    Eve hesitated.  “Actually, I did find a couple of things.  Little things,” and Eve stressed the word little .
    “Where did you get that lantern?” Granny asked, her eyes falling on it with shiny interest.
    Eve pointed.  “Back there, behind some things.  It’s quaint, isn’t it?”
    Granny scratched the end of her nose.  “I don’t remember ever seeing it and I thought I knew everything in this place.”
    “How much?” Eve asked.
    Granny reached for it.  Reluctantly, Eve handed it over.
    “Good weight,” Granny said.  “Looks in good shape.  I suppose it’s about 100 years old.  Maybe older.”
    “It uses kerosene, I guess,” Eve said.
    “Yes, I’m sure it does.”
    Granny scrutinized it.  “It’s a good piece.  I like it.  I could hang it on my back porch.  It would be comforting out there.”
    Eve took in a sharp breath.  “I would like to buy it,” Eve said, more forcefully than she’d intended.
    Granny glanced up at her.  “You would?”  Granny adjusted her glasses, speculating.  “Well, you did find it, after all.”
    Granny looked first at the lantern and then back at Eve.  “I’ll just have to rummage around back there and see if I can find another one like it.”
    Eve had the letter in her right hand, behind her back.  She was still fighting with herself whether she should show it to