The rotted floorboards crumbled in my hands, the pieces falling through the hole we had created, past the now exposed support beam that was holding up the floor, and into the darkness of the basement below. My husband and I were working on our renovation project, an old general store building, and had decided to tackle tearing out the water damaged areas of the floor. It was getting messy. I reached through the gaping hole in what was left of the floor to scoop off the debris that had piled up on the support beam. I grabbed a handful of splinters and started to toss them on down, but something caught my eye. It looked like old paper, and the handwriting on it, though faded, was beautiful. I brought it closer for a better look, and in the dim light I read "We can't be too careful. Chew this up and swallow it if you have to." My heart jumped. All work was forgotten. I knelt there on the beam and slowly, carefully unfolded what turned out to be honest-to-goodness secret love letters. Dated 1913. From a young school teacher to an older man. She never mentions her name, or his either. But she doesn't hold back her adoration, her longing, and sometimes her frustration with him. She is feisty, funny, and flirty, and I see why he liked her. I have yet to piece together their story, but from what I've read so far, it's an epic one. And even though it happened over a hundred years ago, it's only beginning for me.
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