Threaded Through Time, Book One

by Sarah Ettritch

  Disappointed, Margaret turned to go upstairs, then decided that she actually wouldn’t mind a glass of water. She flicked on the kitchen light. The unexpected sight of someone sitting at the table made her gasp in fright. “Oh my goodness, I’m sorry!” She stared in astonishment as Robin quickly dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “It’s all right.

  You didn’t know I was here.”

  Again, Margaret dithered. She’d intruded on a private moment and should leave Robin in peace, but she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed Robin’s distress and walk away as if she didn’t care. Concern and curiosity propelled her farther into the kitchen. When Robin didn’t shoo her away, Margaret pulled out a chair and sat down. Her heart ached at Robin’s hunched shoulders, her hands clenched around the tissue, and her downcast eyes. This wasn’t the confident, assured woman she was used to.

  The urge to comfort Robin by touching her was overwhelming. Margaret tucked her hands underneath the table and gripped her dress for good measure. “Did the dinner with your father not go well?” she asked gently. Robin hadn’t seemed enthusiastic about seeing her father, both the first time she’d mentioned it and when she’d reminded Margaret about it last night.

  To her surprise, Robin smiled. “Well, you could say that, but then, it never does.” She drew a shaky breath. “I don’t know why he bothers. I guess he just can’t pass up any opportunity to tell us how perfect his second family is.” The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable.

  “Why would he want to do that?”

  “I guess he’s glad to be rid of the drunk and the schizo.” Robin sighed. “And me. Though he likes to see me and Chris every once in a while, just to make sure we don’t forget what a wonderful life he has now.”

  He sounded like a horrid man! But something Robin had said bothered her. She could understand, though not condone, his abandonment of his wife and son. Life with an alcoholic wife and ill son must have been difficult, and perhaps he was unable to overcome a lingering resentment toward them. But why hurt Robin? Why resent her? “Why is he glad to be rid of you?” Margaret blurted before she could change her mind. She shouldn’t ask, but she wanted—

  needed—to know. “He should be proud of you,” she said when Robin didn’t answer. “You’re in university, you’re kind-hearted.” Margaret swallowed. “You’re a lovely woman. Why would he

  —”

  Robin abruptly pushed back her chair and stood. “I appreciate your concern, Margaret, I really do. But you’ll be gone next week. You don’t need to get mixed up with my problems.” She shoved the tissue into her jacket pocket. “I’m going to bed.”

  “I’m sorry if I offended you,” Margaret quickly said, not wanting them to part on a bad note.

  “You didn’t, not at all. It’s my fault. For some reason I feel comfortable talking to you about personal stuff, maybe because I know you won’t be here for long. I don’t know.” Robin shrugged. “I just know I shouldn’t take advantage and whine to you. I’m sorry.” She pressed her hand against her chest. “I hope you’ll still bring me tea tomorrow.” Margaret’s throat tightened. “Of course I will.” She wouldn’t miss her time with Robin for the world.

  “I’d miss it, if you didn’t.” Robin walked toward the hallway and stopped when she reached it. “I’d miss you, too. Good night.”

  She was gone before Margaret had a chance to respond—not that she would have said anything. She was too busy reeling over Robin’s parting words. Was Robin being polite, or had she meant it? For the first time, Margaret realized that returning to 1910 would bring her sadness as well as joy. She would spend the rest of her life missing someone who hadn’t been born.

  *****

  Pam jumped when the bedroom door swung open; when Robin strode in she lowered her book and tried not to wince at Robin’s red eyes. “Another wonderful dinner with daddy dearest?”

  “I don’t know why I bother.” Robin shut the door, then sat at the end of the bed and pulled off her shoes.

  “Neither do I. Next time he wants to grace you with his presence as an afterthought as he’s passing through town, tell him to fuck off.”

  Robin twisted around. “He’s my father.”

  “So what? All he does is tell you what a disappointment you are because you’re gay. And did he tell Chris to dump his meds again, that all they are is a crutch and he needs to man up and make something of himself?” Robin’s silence answered the question. “The man’s a complete ass.

  I’m sorry, I know he’s your father, but he is.” Was it wrong to wish that he’d died in a fiery crash instead of her father? The world would have been better off, especially Robin and Chris. “So honestly, I don’t get these dinners. He’s not going to suddenly turn around and tell you and Chris that he loves you just as you are. So forget about him already. Stop hoping the next dinner will be the one when he admits that he has two damn good kids, and I’m not talking about the brats.” She could tell from Robin’s face that her words weren’t making any difference. “My god, what is it with grown adults wanting the approval of their parents? Jasper’s the same way. The two people I care—” Her brain overruled her tongue.

  Robin pointed at her. “You were going to say the two people you care about most.” Pam cursed herself. “No, I wasn’t.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “Stop trying to change the subject. How is Chris, anyway?” Pam said, changing the subject.

  “He’s good.”

  “I hope he’s not going to listen to your father.”

  Robin shook her head. “I think he tunes Dad out now.”

  “Good. You should do the same.”

  “He has a girlfriend.”

  “I hope you mean Chris.” She wouldn’t put it past Robin’s father to have a mistress and brag about it.

  Robin nodded. “I met her a couple of weeks ago. She seems nice. He met her at group. She’s schizophrenic, too.”

  “Oh god, let’s hope they don’t both hear voices at the same time, or things could get interesting. Imagine the arguments.”

  Robin chuckled. “I’ve been meaning to mention her to you.” She paused. “But you’re always busy.”

  Was Robin scolding her?

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to take Jasper to the party with you?” So Robin was upset about Jasper. “I asked Margaret and she doesn’t mind.”

  “That’s not what I meant. But now that you’ve mentioned Margaret, they are engaged.”

  “And they’ll get married and live happily ever after,” Pam snapped. “You saw the marriage announcement. Oh, and I’ve found something else on the Net since then.” Robin’s brow furrowed. “What did you find?”

  “A graduation announcement for one Elizabeth Margaret Bainbridge, parents Jasper and Margaret Bainbridge. Look.” Pam grabbed her phone from the nightstand and brought up the historical newspaper website she’d found. “And she graduated from Dalhousie, so I guess they were still living in Halifax.” Robin rounded the bed to sit nearer to Pam and peered at the phone’s display. “You see?” Pam said. “They get married, they have a family, everything’s hunky-dory. Remember you said that Margaret doesn’t love him?” Her attention still on the phone, Robin nodded.

  “Well, Jasper doesn’t exactly love her, either. It’s sort of like an arranged marriage, except they arranged it themselves.” With their fathers’ help. “So who cares if Jasper has one last hurrah before he plays the dutiful husband for the rest of his life? It’s not as if I’ll come out of the woodwork later and destroy their marriage.”

  Robin looked up at her. “Just what type of hurrah are we talking about?”

  “Going out for an evening with someone other than Margaret, that’s all.” And with a woman who truly felt for him, and, if Pam’s reading of the situation was correct, a woman he truly felt for.

  “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Robin said.

  “But?”

  Robin was silent for a moment. “They’re going back in just over a week
. Don’t get too attached.”

  Yeah, she was painfully aware of when they were going back. Robin’s advice was too late.

  “And they might not love each other now, but I’m sure they’re hoping love will grow over time. Don’t make that more difficult by being the perfect woman he’ll measure Margaret against.

  It’ll be hard to compete against a woman he was sort of on vacation with for a month, too short a time to see her bad side.”

  “Well, thank you very much!”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Pam stuck out her tongue.

  “Did you find anything else?” Robin asked.

  “No. I could poke around on one of the genealogy sites, but you have to pay for those to see anything interesting. And, uh . . .” Pam cleared her throat. “I could search cemetery records.” Robin grimaced. “God, no. I don’t think I could deal with that. Maybe after they’ve been gone for a while, but now? No.”

  “Yeah, the thought made me shudder too, so I haven’t. I figure it’s best not to know.” She set the phone back on the nightstand. “I didn’t tell Jasper about the marriage announcement—I wouldn’t,” she quickly added when Robin gave her a look, “but I asked him a few questions, like where they’d live, that sort of thing. They’re not planning a move to Halifax. He made it sound like something unusual would have to happen to make them move, like a scandal of some sort.”

  “It would have to happen pretty quickly, given when they got married. I hope it has nothing to do with them being here.” Robin pressed her lips together. “Nah, if they went around telling people they’d visited 2010, they’d end up in a lunatic asylum. And whatever they do here, stays here. Something unexpected must happen.”

  But what? Maybe after they’d returned, Pam would really dig around and see what she could find out, even if she had to shell out a few bucks to access records or slog herself down to a library to view microfilm reels.

  “Do you ever wonder if this is actually happening?” Robin asked. “Maybe this is one long dream, something our brains are cooking up to comfort us as we’re slowly dying from carbon monoxide poisoning.”

  “And we’re both in the same dream, talking to each other and going about our daily lives? It feels too real and too rational.”

  Robin snorted. “Except for the ‘we believe we’re living with two people from 1910’ part.”

  “Yes, but the fact that we occasionally think we’re nuts means we’re not, right? If we were really nuts, we wouldn’t think we were nuts.”

  “Or maybe that’s what we want to believe. Sometimes I wonder if this is how it is for Chris.” Robin stood. “Anyway, I should get ready for bed.” She lifted her pyjamas from the top of the dresser and left for the bathroom.

  Pam was certain her life for the past few weeks wasn’t a delusion. If her brain had built this world, Jasper would be sharing her bed, not Robin.

  Chapter Eight

  Pam sipped her wine and watched Jasper fill his plate with goodies available at the snack table.

  When another party guest approached him, she didn’t rush to his side. Not only did the Bainbridge family often host soirées, they were on everyone’s guest list—and it showed in the skill with which Jasper worked a room, even here in 2010. If he didn’t get a joke, he laughed anyway. If he didn’t understand a cultural reference or question, he pretended he hadn’t heard and deftly steered the conversation back to the other person. People loved to talk about themselves, and Jasper had little trouble encouraging them to do so. The guest who’d joined him near the table was already happily chattering away while Jasper nodded and stuffed his face.

  She turned to her left when someone nudged her arm. “So where did you find him?” Brenda asked. “He’s so charming.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve never mentioned him before.”

  “Oh, he’s one of my mother’s friend’s sons, in town visiting. It was a last minute thing. I said I’d show him around.”

  “I can see the sparks flying.”

  Pam leaned closer and dropped her voice. “It’s too bad he’ll be leaving next week.”

  “It’s nothing to hop on a plane these days. If you don’t mind a long-distance relationship,” Brenda said from the corner of her mouth.

  “Unfortunately, he’s spoken for. Engaged.”

  “Oh,” Brenda mouthed. “Too bad.”

  Pam loved how she could tell the truth and make perfect sense as long as she didn’t mention 1910.

  Another guest joined them. “Brenda, I just love the chocolate cake. Did you make it?” Pam lightly touched Brenda’s arm and murmured, “I’ll talk to you later,” then hovered near Jasper until he noticed her and politely ended his conversation. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked.

  Chewing on something, he said, “Mmm,” and held out his plate. She chose one of the two remaining sugar cookies. Jasper made fast work of the other one. “Conversations haven’t changed much. Work, people, hobbies. Same old thing. Oh, the military came up. I didn’t quite understand what was being said, but I gathered that we were involved in an overseas campaign in Europe at some point.”

  He didn’t know about the world wars, and she wasn’t about to tell him. When selecting movies to watch, she’d passed over those that made mention of them. The First World War would start a mere four years after he returned. If he enlisted, did he survive? Maybe finding out what had happened to Jasper after he returned wasn’t such a good idea. She’d rather imagine him happy, raising children with Margaret and then enjoying his grandchildren, not dead on a battlefield, and Margaret a war widow with young children to care for. “It’s best you not know.” He accepted her answer with a nod, as he had the handful of other times she’d decided to withhold information. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Mike and Angela, two of the few guests who smoked, coming back into the living room from the balcony. She grabbed Jasper’s arm. “Come on, I want to show you something.” She allowed him time to set his plate atop the dirty stack at the end of the snack table before dragging him outside, and grinned from ear to ear when his mouth dropped open.

  Jasper went to the railing and looked down. Pam remained a few steps behind him, her stomach flip-flopping. She wasn’t terrified of heights—she was out here—but she wasn’t brave enough to stand at the railing. “Quite the sight, eh? We’re up thirty-five floors.”

  “It’s magnificent. The lights . . . everything looks so small . . .” He was silent for a moment, then turned around. “Don’t you want to see?”

  “Uh, well, I’m okay here.” She smiled sheepishly.

  He held out his hand.

  Oh god. Not wanting him to think her a coward, she forced herself to take it and walk to his side, her insides quaking. Don’t look down, don’t look down! She gripped the railing with her free hand and clung to Jasper with her other. The warmth of his hand reassured her and she felt safe, but if the light breeze suddenly gusted, she was outta here. His hand wasn’t enough to keep her warm, though. Her thin blouse didn’t stand a chance against the chill. Shivering, she wanted to rub the goose bumps from her arms, but she wasn’t about to let go of the railing and Jasper’s hand!

  “You’re cold.”

  When Jasper loosened his hold on her hand, she tightened her grip. “No! Don’t let go.”

  “I want to give you my jacket. Look at me.”

  “I’ll look at you from over here.” She moved away from the railing, clinging to it until she had to let go, and stopped where she was sure a strong wind couldn’t blow her off the balcony.

  Only then did she let go of Jasper’s hand.

  She chuckled to herself as he removed his jacket. She’d had a hell of a time persuading him to forgo a tie and not button his shirt up to his chin. They’d sounded like her parents when Mom was dressing Dad for an evening out—an old married couple, affectionately bickering.

  A lump rose in her throat when Jasper placed his jacket around her shoulders. She hugged it to herself. “Thank you.”

  “My ple
asure.”

  Their eyes met. “You can look out a bit more, if you like. I’ll just stand here,” Pam said.

  He didn’t move. Did he feel it too, the yearning to close the short distance between them?

  She tried to tear her eyes away from his, but couldn’t.

  “I’m starting to wonder how it will feel, to be back home,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen wondrous sights, glimpsed how inventions from my time shaped things to come, and seen machines that even my children will probably never have the opportunity to use. I’ve lived the future! But the sights, the machines, the changes—they’re not what I’ll remember the most.” Pam couldn’t breathe when he gently ran his finger down her cheek and cupped her chin. “I’ll miss you.”

  Unable to resist any longer, she let his jacket fall to the ground and threw her arms around his neck, then closed her eyes when she felt his arms tighten around her. Relief, sorrow, and lust mingled together as she pressed her cheek against his. God, she’d miss him too. It was a good thing she couldn’t control what would happen when she read the rhyme; otherwise she’d be tempted to send Margaret back and keep him, marry him and raise a family, argue with him about stupid ties, and want to bash her head against the dashboard while teaching him how to drive in 2010.

  “Pam—”

  No, she didn’t want to talk, not anymore, when they had so little time left. She pressed her lips against his neck, his jaw, moved to his mouth when she felt him respond. But the second her lips touched his, they both pulled back and stared at each other, the heat between them still raging. “We can’t do this.” She swallowed and relaxed into him, but pressed her right hand against his shoulder, ready to push away if she felt herself weakening. “As much as I’d like to, we can’t,” she whispered.

  His chest heaved against hers. “I know,” he said huskily. “If we were both from the same time . . .”