Threaded Through Time, Book One

by Sarah Ettritch

  “I most certainly will.”

  Margaret spent the rest of the afternoon listening in fascination to Robin and peppering her with questions. When the sound of a motor reached her ears, she reluctantly let go of Robin’s hand. They both went into the living room.

  Pam stumbled inside and plopped into a chair. “My poor feet,” she moaned.

  “Did you find the book?” Robin asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Damn it, Pam!”

  Jasper leaped to Pam’s defence. “We’ve only just begun our search. I said this could take a while.”

  Pam kicked off her shoes and massaged one of her ankles. “We spoke to a printer who suggested a couple of places we might find it.”

  “We’ll go out again tomorrow,” Jasper added.

  “I won’t be able to keep you company tomorrow,” Margaret said to Robin. “But I’ll see you soon.” Her heart fluttered at Robin’s answering nod.

  “If we don’t find it tomorrow, we’ll have to wait until Friday,” Jasper said to her. “We have that tea at the McManuses’ on Thursday afternoon.”

  “Oh, yes.” She would do everything in her power to reschedule whatever was in her book for Friday afternoon, especially since they wouldn’t search for the rhyme book over the weekend. Margaret would visit Robin and Pam with Jasper on Saturday or Sunday, but she didn’t want to wait a whole week before she could hold Robin’s hand again. If they found the book tomorrow, she’d persuade Jasper to take Pam out for a drive on Friday. She doubted it would take much coaxing.

  Jasper stood near the open front door. “I’ll drive Margaret home and then drop in again, to make sure you have everything you need for dinner.”

  “Maybe I’ll be able to walk again by then,” Pam mumbled.

  “Good-bye,” Margaret said.

  Still focused on her feet, Pam waved.

  “I enjoyed the afternoon,” Robin said.

  Margaret inclined her head. “As did I.” She left the guest house in front of Jasper, feeling as if she were walking on air.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pam stifled a groan as she and Jasper approached the dilapidated shack a woman had pointed to from the corner. This was worse than the last one, where the proprietor should have handed out hardhats at the door, along with a map that directed customers around the maze of junk piles.

  “Should we even go in?” she said to Jasper. “What are the chances he’ll have the book?”

  “We’re running out of places,” Jasper pointed out.

  Two weeks of slogging from half-decent shops to market stalls to hovels like the last

  “store,” and still no book. If Robin didn’t kill her, her feet would. “Lead the way,” she murmured, knowing he’d open the door for her and she’d have to be the one to step inside and wrinkle her nose first. She could barely read the handwritten sign hanging in one of the grimy windows: Balms and Powders. “It doesn’t say anything about books.”

  “It will only take a minute to ask.” Jasper turned the handle, pushed the door open, and waved her through.

  Cringing, she stepped through the doorway and . . . wow, she could see the wooden counter from here, and the inventory was neatly stacked on shelves. Her nose wasn’t convulsing as it tried to keep out the stench, either. Only mothballs, incense, and smoke assaulted it, not the usual odour that told her rodents called the place home. The proprietor, however . . . he stooped behind the counter, his face gaunt, gray hair thinning, and skeletal fingers clutching a lit pipe. Oh, god.

  If Jasper bellowed, he’d blow the poor man over. As she walked with Jasper to the counter, she glanced around for any sign of books, but found none. Why had that woman directed them here?

  The proprietor warily eyed them. Pam pasted a smile on her face. Jasper would do the talking. She was here to look pretty.

  “Good afternoon,” Jasper said.

  “Afternoon, sir,” the proprietor said around his pipe. “Nicholas Stone at your service. What can I do for you?”

  “A woman suggested your shop to us, but we’re looking for a book, not medical aid.”

  “I have a few books in the back, sir.”

  “I see. Would you have a book called Magical Moon Rhymes for All Times?” Stone’s eyes narrowed. He removed the pipe from his mouth. “Now why would you be looking for a book like that?”

  Excitement coursed through Pam. “You know of it?” Jasper said evenly.

  “I might. But if you’ll pardon me, sir, you don’t look like the sort of folk who dabble in such activities.”

  Not the stupid black magic thing again. Pam groaned inwardly. The book was merely a collection of rhymes that didn’t even make sense. Okay, one had the power to hurtle unsuspecting people through time, but that didn’t make it bad.

  “We’re the sort of folk who spend good money when we want something,” Jasper said.

  “And we really want that book.” Pam broadened her smile and batted her eyelashes.

  Stone’s eyes flicked from Pam to Jasper, then back to Pam. “Let me have a look in the back.” He shuffled into an area that doubled as a storage room and bedroom, from what Pam could glimpse through the doorway. Her breath caught in her throat when he returned with a black book and set it on the counter. Shit. There it was. MAGICAL MOON RHYMES FOR ALL

  TIMES.

  “May I look at it?” Jasper asked, following the script they’d agreed upon if they found the book.

  Stone nodded.

  Pam leaned in as Jasper lifted the cover. This book was in much better shape than the one she had in 2010—duh. Cripes, it wasn’t the same book, was it? It could be! She wanted to grab it and flip to page 17, but had to restrain herself as Jasper turned each pristine page. Pages 12 and 13, 14 and 15—she held her breath—16 and 17 . . . For those who were born before or after their time. Holy shit. Their ticket home. “This seems to be what we’re looking for,” she said.

  Jasper closed the book. “How much are you asking for it?” Stone stuck his pipe back into his mouth and chewed on it. “Are you sure you want it? Not many printed, and even fewer survive. Book’s cursed.”

  “And yet you have it.”

  “A friend wanted to burn it, but burning books . . . I couldn’t go along with that, so I took it off his hands, said I’d take care of it. I’ve never opened it, though. It’s sat back there for near on twenty years. I’d forgotten about it—until today.”

  “Why do you think it’s cursed?” Pam asked.

  Stone shifted his attention to her. “Well, I’m not sure it is cursed, Miss, but I thought I’d better warn you, in case the stories were true.”

  “What stories?”

  “They might be tall tales.” Stone leaned over the counter and lowered his voice. “But apparently some who came into possession of this book disappeared. Gone, just like that, into thin air. Never heard from again. Happened to a man and his wife, right in this very neighbourhood.” He shrugged. “Now, I’m sure they just ran from their troubles—if they disappeared at all. I’m just repeating what I heard.”

  Pam almost blurted, “They must have read page 17!” but stifled it by covering her mouth.

  Jasper guffawed. “Tall tales, indeed. Stop frightening the lady.”

  “Oh, but that’s not all,” Stone said. “Around the same time, a couple of strangers appeared in the neighbourhood. That’s not unusual, of course, but these strangers . . . they didn’t last here long. They’re either dead or still shut away in the lunatic asylum, shouting about how they’re from the nineteenth century and don’t know how they got here. Poor sods.” He suddenly barked a laugh, making Pam jump. “Never saw them myself, of course. The gentleman is right, they’re only tall tales, and I have no use for the book.”

  “Then you’ll sell it to us?” Jasper asked.

  “That I will. My friend, God bless him, passed away last year, so he won’t have anything to say about it.” Stone rubbed his chin. “A dollar.”

  “A dollar!” Jasper shook his hea
d. “That’s highway robbery! I’ll give you twenty cents, which is still more than you deserve, but since not many were printed . . .”

  “Eighty cents.”

  “Thirty.”

  “Fifty.”

  “Done!” Jasper fished several coins from his pocket. “A pleasure doing business with you.” He hesitated, then picked up the book. Pam couldn’t blame him. There was no way she would open the book and read anything in it until it was time for them to go back. Who knew what would happen?

  Outside, she gulped down the fresh air. Jasper tucked the book under his arm. “Don’t lose it,” Pam said. “It could be the only copy in existence.” She sighed. “I guess we should go tell the girls the good news.”

  “I suppose we should.”

  His voice lacked enthusiasm, and so did she. For a split second, she wanted to suggest that they throw the book into the lake and forget about it. They’d tell Robin and Margaret that they’d spent another fruitless afternoon searching for a book they weren’t likely to find, and that it was time to accept that 1910 had two new permanent inhabitants. And then what? Did she expect Jasper to break his engagement with Margaret and marry her? Was she that selfish that she’d condemn Robin to life here, just so she and Jasper could be together? The fairy-tale life she envisioned would elude her, eclipsed by guilt and the horrible secret that would forever hang over her and Jasper.

  She wanted to cry. Having a conscience could really suck, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Do you think Margaret would mind if we were to go for a drive or a stroll before Robin and I leave? By ourselves, I mean. Not today. When it’s closer.”

  “I’ll ask her.” He paused. “She’s been very kind to us.”

  “I know. I should probably feel guilty for hogging you, but she’ll have you for the rest of her life. I have to give her credit for being secure enough to let us . . . see each other. I can’t help but resent her a little, though. I know that sounds terrible.” He smiled ruefully. “I envy Robin. She’ll be a lifelong friend and know what happens to you. I’ll always wonder.” His eyes grew sad as his smile faded. “If things were different . . . if I’d met you in this time . . .”

  “I know.” She briefly closed her eyes, then tried to muster enthusiasm. “Anyway, let’s go back. And don’t forget to ask Margaret about giving us one more afternoon together.” So they could say good-bye.

  *****

  With a heavy heart, Margaret only half listened to Jasper as he drove her home, laughing when he did and hoping the one or two words she uttered now and then were satisfactory. Earlier, when Jasper and Pam had returned to the guest house and he’d held up the book with a triumphant, albeit strained, smile, Margaret had tried, oh so hard, to be happy for Robin, despite the instant death of the fantasies she’d entertained about building a life with the woman she shouldn’t love. She’d not only imagined them running away together here, but had considered the possibility that the rhyme would send them all back to 2010, where she and Robin could marry. Impossible, foolish, sinful fantasies, but ones that represented what she truly wanted—

  and could never have.

  Robin’s relief had been apparent; if she’d tried not to appear too pleased, she’d failed. Given what Margaret now knew about what life was like for . . . lesbians in 2010, she couldn’t blame her, but understanding how imperative it was for Robin to return to her own time didn’t prevent Margaret from feeling hurt that Robin looked forward to going home. Her reaction was unfair; in Robin’s shoes, she’d feel the same way. But knowing that didn’t help.

  Jasper pulled up outside the Wilton home. She waited while he rounded the car, opened her door, and offered a steadying hand. She expected him to walk her up the path and give her a parting peck on the lips, but he stood rooted next to the car. “Would you mind if I came in for a moment?” he asked, to her amazement. He’d never invited himself in before. “I’d like to speak with you about something.”

  “Of course. Let’s go into the drawing room.” She quickly discarded the panicked notion that he might suspect her true feelings for Robin. If that were so, he wouldn’t want to touch her, and he certainly wouldn’t politely ask to discuss the matter privately. He’d storm through the front door, shouting for Father.

  “Would you like a drink?” she asked when they reached the drawing room.

  “No, thank you.” He glanced toward the open door.

  She shut it, and patiently waited for him to conquer whatever apprehension was causing him to clear his throat and straighten his jacket. “We found the book,” he finally said.

  “Yes.”

  “Pam and I no longer have a reason to go out.”

  Margaret waited.

  “On our own.” He swallowed. “We thought perhaps we might go out for a drive, before they go back. You and Robin are welcome to—”

  She raised her hand. “Jasper.” She should make him squirm. If she were another woman and under any other circumstances, she would. But she was hardly in a position to have her nose out of joint. “If you’re asking if I would object to you and Pam going out on a drive by yourselves, the answer is no.” She decided to speak plainly. “I know you and Pam are fond of each other. I haven’t objected to your friendship because I know she’ll soon be out of our lives.” Well, she hadn’t been sure until they’d found the book, but she was lying about why his relationship with Pam didn’t matter to her. “So have your drive with Pam. Several, if that’s what you want. But do Robin the courtesy of arranging a meeting with Pam at a time when I can keep her company.”

  “Perhaps you and Robin can go for a walk,” Jasper suggested. “She must be growing tired of being cooped up.”

  Margaret shook her head. “Robin would refuse to wear a dress.” And seemed afraid to venture out in case something happened that would prevent her from returning home.

  “I have to admit, I’m surprised the two of you get along so well. You seem so different.” They were more alike than he’d ever suspect. “When I first met her, I thought the same. But I enjoy her conversation.” She paused. “Robin does walk on the estate in the early morning and late evening.”

  “Does she?”

  “Yes, near the guest house. With Pam.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything, in case Jasper took it upon himself to intrude. “Let me get my engagement book.” Without waiting for a reply, she left the drawing room, went to her bedroom, and slid the engagement book from a cubbyhole in her vanity. She opened it and frowned at the numerous entries between now and October 18th, the date they expected a full moon. What could she reschedule? Her hair could wait. Tea with Aunt Grace could be postponed—all she talked about was her late husband.

  Margaret’s eyes fell on the entry for Saturday, October 15th. Hmm.

  She returned to the drawing room and, supporting the open book with one hand, she tapped at an entry with her other. “I could call on Robin the afternoons of the ninth and twelfth.”

  “What days of the week are they?”

  “Sunday and Wednesday.”

  Jasper frowned. “I can definitely manage the Sunday, but Father’s already angry with me for being scarce around the office lately. I’ll have to see about the Wednesday.” Not wanting the ninth to be the last time she could be alone with Robin, Margaret made what Jasper might view as an outlandish suggestion. “The Halloween Ball is on the fifteenth.

  Why don’t you escort Pam?”

  His face slackened. “What?”

  “Escort Pam. I’ll take her out, buy her a lovely hat, dress, and shoes. She’ll love the experience, both the shopping and the ball.”

  “But—what will people think? And what about you? Don’t you want to go to the ball?”

  “There will be plenty of balls in our future, Jasper. As for others, make something up. I can be under the weather, and Pam can be a visiting distant cousin who graciously agreed to step in and take my place.”

  “Our families will be there!”

  “All right, an old friend, then,�
�� Margaret said, thinking quickly. “I can pretend I have a bad tummy. I’ll find my way to the estate once everyone else has gone. Mother will be beside herself

  —” not because her daughter was ill, but because Margaret wouldn’t be on Jasper’s arm for the first major social event since their engagement was announced “—but I’ll deal with Mother.” Jasper stepped toward her. “Margaret, you don’t have to be so generous.”

  “I want you to give her a good send-off, Jasper. It will perhaps help you to refocus on us and our relationship, once she’s gone.” Our relationship? Margaret suddenly felt sick.

  “Thank you,” Jasper murmured.

  “You’ll escort her?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked down at her engagement book again and pursed her lips. “Tell her we’ll go shopping on Friday morning.” Margaret closed the book.

  “I’ll let her know.” He stared at her for a moment, then swept out his arm. “After you.” Not surprisingly, Mother hovered in the hallway. “Oh! I was wondering if you two were in there.”

  Margaret restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner, Jasper?”

  Jasper hesitated, then smiled. “I’d be delighted.”

  “Wonderful! I’ll have Sally set another place.” Mother clapped her hands together. “Oh, look at the two of you! Such a handsome pair. I expect you’ll be a familiar face at the dinner table from now on, Jasper. Oh, Sally!” She raced up the hallway, waving at the housemaid.

  Margaret returned the engagement book to her bedroom and gathered with the rest of her family and Jasper in the living room to make small talk. She was fine until everyone proceeded to the dining room and Jasper pulled out her chair, then sat next to her. Though he’d dined with them before, his presence at the table as her fiancé was a novelty. Her parents and brothers kept glancing at them: Margaret and her future husband.

  She wanted to bolt from the table. Sitting here next to Jasper, seeing everyone already clothing her in the role of the loving wife, had brought to the surface a certainty she’d sensed, but feared. She could never fill that role. If she hadn’t been transported into the future, hadn’t met Robin and been introduced to herself, she wouldn’t see marrying Jasper as settling, not only for her, but for him. Her confusion over why she didn’t feel for him what her friends felt for their husbands would have deepened, especially when her expectation that those feelings would come later proved false. But she would have tried to be the wife he wanted, and perhaps Jasper wouldn’t have noticed that his wife lacked passion. Perhaps he wouldn’t have minded a supportive woman at his side who held him in genuine affection. But not anymore. Any woman at his side would be in Pam’s shadow, but at least others would love him. She couldn’t, not as a wife should love him. Margaret had no hope of living up to Pam, nor did she want to.