Who Is Frances Rain? (10 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

I FOUND her sitting on the steep ledge where Gran and I had talked about Frances Rain. She looked around when she heard me coming, and I thought she was going to make a run for it, but then she sighed, slumped forward and looked out at the lake.

A heavy ridge of dark clouds was piling up behind the far shore. Small ochre clouds were being herded ahead while the big ones puffed themselves up and rolled uneasily towards us. Everything seemed dark blue and yellow.

“Storm coming,” I said. “Big noisy one from the looks of it.”

She shifted to make room for me. I sat down.

“Tim's gone, eh? Erica told me.”

She nodded. Her hands on her knees were tightly clenched, the thumbs tucked inside.

“I was just getting used to him,” I said. “His leaving was our fault, I guess. Evan and me. We didn't try very hard. Sorry.”

She gave me a wry smile. “You two didn't help, but it was Tim and me ... no, I failed Tim.” She shivered against the cool breeze that suddenly drifted off the choppy water below. “He tried. I didn't. End of marriage. It wasn't fair to marry him when I wasn't ready. Still, I hoped  Her words trailed off.

“Why did you marry him?”

“Tim? Don't you think we simply fell in love?”

“Did you?”

“Believe it or not, I think we did. But I've never been really sure why I married him so quickly. Yes — yes, I guess I do know. Because I was scared. Because I was lonely. Because I could see myself getting old without someone who'd finally understand how I was feeling without explanations. I felt like one of those people who stand high above the traffic on a narrow ledge. Tim seemed to be able to keep me from looking down. For a while.”

She seemed to be talking more to herself than to me. I wasn't sure if I should even be listening. Still, I had to try.

“Then what went wrong?” I asked in a quiet voice. We'd never talked like this before.

She rested her chin on her knees. “I think I kept expecting him to go inside and close the window and leave me out on the ledge alone.”

“Like Dad did?”

She looked at me, surprised. “Yes, like that.”

“Tim wouldn't do that.”

“But I just couldn't convince myself. So I figured it would be better if I didn't get too close.”

“Do you still want to be with him?”

She laughed. It sounded distant and sad. “Yes, I think I do.”

“It doesn't have to be over,” I offered. “He's nuts about you. Well ... realistically, maybe you're second to Erica, but still up there on his list.”

She laughed. “No. I'm not sure I'd be on his list now.”

“Are you kidding?”

“You wouldn't understand, Elizabeth.” Her voice sounded choked off.

“What's to understand? You love him and he loves you. Dad left us because he didn't want to be with us anymore. Tim wants to be with us. Cripes! We couldn't get rid of him. You could try at least, couldn't you? It must be worth a try.”

She looked up at the rolling clouds. Tears ran out of the corners of her eyes. I waited.

Finally she said, “I guess it's worth a try. It would be ... hard. But Tim —”

“But Tim what?”

Mascara had run into the hollows of her eyes. Her hair was all over the place. Was this my mother? “Tim said he was through when he left here,” she said. “I have a feeling that he meant it.”

“Like they say in the romance novels, Mother, go after him. If Tim saw
you
coming for
him
, he'd know you loved him. And you do, don't you? You said so, didn't you?”

She nodded.

“Then, go and talk to him. Drag him back. And stay here with us. To hell with what's happening in the city.”

She grinned. My mother actually grinned.“Yeah,” she said, as the first big raindrops fell on our faces. “To hell with the city.” She headed down the trail towards home. Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. “For a while, anyway.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

GRAN had taken the sixteen footer, so we were left with the smaller boat. Its shallow bottom slammed up and down over the choppy waves. It wasn't until we were at the landing in the far bay that it hit me.

“We don't have a car, I'll bet,” I said, tying up the boat next to Gran's. I squelched back and forth on the rotting dock. “We're so stupid; we should have brought Gran's keys to her little Rover. Now we don't have a ride.”

Mother, her bangs plastered against her forehead, peered through the steady downpour. “I never thought. I have the keys to our car. Maybe they used hers. Tim wouldn't leave us without a car. He's probably going to take the bus.”

She was right. The station wagon stood underneath the trees at the end of the trail, littered in leaves, twigs and dead bugs. Good old Tim.

When we parked at the back of the lodge, we found May standing behind the screen door, as if she'd been waiting for us. We slogged through the puddles towards her.

“Thank God, you've come,” she breathed. “Tim is upstairs with her now. We're waiting for the doctor.”

Mother swung open the door. “What's wrong? Is it Ma?”

“Didn't you see Alex on the road? He was on his way to get Doc and then to get you.” May looked grim. “She had one of her funny spells. I think it may be her heart.”

“What funny spells? I don't know anything about any funny spells. Did she have a heart attack?”

May was trying hard to be calm, but her hands were wringing a tea towel. “Well, Connie, she's been having these pains the past while. Doc gave her pills that she puts under her tongue. We gave her one and she's lying down. The pain's stopped and she's asleep. She seemed awfully agitated when she came in. She kept insisting that Tim stay and eat with her and when he wouldn't — he said something about the bus — she got even more upset and that's when the pains started.”

“Where is he? Is Tim with her? Has he gone already?”

“I'm right here, Connie,” said a deep voice beside the stairs. “She's okay. She's asleep.”

I ran towards the stairs and he gently caught my arm. “Don't wake her, Lizzie, okay?”

“I have to see her,” I said. “I have to see her.”

“I know. Just don't wake her up if you can help it.”

I nodded dumbly and ran up the stairs. She was lying on May's chenille bedspread, a down-filled comforter over her long body. Only her knobbly feet stuck out the end. She always likes to keep her feet cool.

I crept up to her side and gazed down at her. Someone had taken her top plate out, and the soft upper lip had sunk in a little. Her colour was bad.

I put one hand over her gnarled fist, but didn't touch it. I wanted to grab it and press it to my face, to feel its warmth, to feel it move. Behind the thin crêpey eyelids, her eyes rolled, then she opened them slowly.

“Lizzie? My teeth, for Pete's sake. Get my damn teeth.”

I took them out of the glass of water and put them in her hand. Like Harv, she gave them a few clicks before smiling up at me.

“That's better. My, I needed that sleep. I suppose that May's got everybody hysterical? I don't intend to die yet.”

“Oh, Gran,” was all I could say. “I love you.”

Her lids grew heavy again. “If you love me, you'll go make me a cup of tea. I'm dry as a bone. And when the doctor comes, tell her to go home.”

I shook my head. “No way, Gran.”

“We'll start with the tea.” Her eyes closed, then opened again. “Then, doctor or no doctor, we're out of here.”

“Listen, Gran —”

“And don't forget that tea. I'll get up otherwise. And give me a hug.”

When I got down to the kitchen, May was hammering away at some bread dough, cursing under her breath.

“Where's Mother and Tim?”

“They've gone outside,” she grunted. “Crazy fools. I told them they could use my living room, but no, they had to go out in the rain.” She shook her head. “Just as well. I could belt both of them.”

I waited for the rest. I knew she wouldn't stop there.

She put her floured hands on her hips. “Your gran cannot take the strain that girl, your mother, puts on her. Has
always
put on her. First she leaves the area without a howdyadoo ... hardly ever comes up after she's married. Then when she does come up, she brings this new husband that she's not talking to half the time. Then the husband walks out and gets Terry in a real tizzy and look what happens!”

“Well!” I said hotly. “If you people had told my mother about Gran's being sick maybe we all would have slowed up a little. We love her too, you know. Where's the tea? Gran wants a cup.”

We stood in the middle of the room, snorting at each other, then both of us made for the kettle and had a tug of war over it.

“You make your bread, I'll make the tea,” I said fiercely.

We glared over the big silver kettle and burst into tears, hugging each other around its big belly.

“Doc's here!” Alex shouted from the yard. A car door slammed and May and I scrambled to let Doc Lindstrom in.

With a curt nod in our direction, she kicked off her muddy boots and walked swiftly to the stairs.

“I'll let you know what's what after I've seen her,” she said. Her friendly freckled face leaned around the door jamb. “Make us both some tea, will you?”

By the time the kettle was ready, Alex was getting the cups out, cutting up a nut loaf and slapping butter on the slabs.

“Better get your parents,” he said. “Doc'll want to talk to them.”

I nodded and walked to the front windows overlooking the lake. The rain had changed to a thick misty spray and the wind was gusting heavy curtains of it up and down the bay. I saw Tim's big red rain poncho down by the shore and Mother's blue raincoat moving towards it, becoming engulfed and disappearing inside. Then they walked towards the lodge. I sat down by the fire in the lounge and tried to look casual.

They walked in the door and I could tell from Tim's silly grin that they'd made up. My mother didn't look happy or sad, but her eyes and face seemed to glow from inside. I figured this was a sign that she was willing to give it a try.

“I'll see Gran now that you're down, Lizzie,” she said in a determined voice. May handed her a cup of tea to take with her.

The rest of us sat around the kitchen table and waited for the verdict. It didn't take long.

Dorothy Lindstrom, known as Doc to the town of Fish Narrows and two hundred miles surrounding it, rumbled deep in her throat, sat down and said, “I'd like to keep her here for tonight, Connie. Just to check on her every few hours. I could send her to The Pas, but I don't think that will be necessary. Besides, I know she'd fight me all the way.

She looked at each of us in turn, and I felt pinned to my seat when her small brown eyes bored into mine.

“As I told you upstairs, Connie, and I'll tell your husband and daughter, Terry has angina pectoris. She is, after all, over seventy years old, and up to now she's been doing very well. But I've tried to tell her, if she wants a long life, she
cannot
overdo it.”

Tim, Mother and I didn't look at each other, but I could feel their guilt slide onto the table with mine.

“Now,” she said, clasping her freckled hands together, “now, with all of you staying for the summer, maybe she's taken on too much. Not that you shouldn't be here. It's just that Terry wants to do it all herself. Now you'll have to do for her. Not treating her like a cripple, mind. But doing the heavy stuff.”

The three of us hung our heads and nodded. She slapped the table with her hand and we all jumped guiltily.

“Good! Well, you should be able to have her back under those conditions by tomorrow afternoon. Okay?”

“That's better than we expected,” said Mother.

“But remember,” said Doc, shaking her finger all around. “There can be no stress in her life right now, eh?”

“Right,” we said sheepishly.

“That's settled then. May? I'll send Isa Birch over. She's taking on a few special jobs now she's retired from the nursing home. You and she can keep an eye on Terry.” She looked at us. “Anything else comes up, we'll send Alex with a message, okay?”

“Okay,” we repeated in turn.

We were back at the landing dock by dusk. As we passed the dark silhouette of Rain Island, barely visible in the darkening mist, I thought of Frances. We'd both cried that day at the thought of losing someone we loved. I hugged my raincoat tighter.

I wondered about two families, many years apart through time, and I thought about how there had been problems on both sides of this strange time curtain that separated us from each other.

It seemed that no matter what time you lived in, you had to face up to things that weren't so great. You couldn't run away from them. I knew that somehow Frances Rain had run away from hers. When I went back to the island, would the girl be gone? Would it all end up with Frances alone again? I wasn't sure I wanted to know. But at least we still had Gran.

The moon slid out from behind a thick bank of clouds, and suddenly I felt very close to Frances, almost as if she rode side by side with me across the misty water.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

ERICA, crazy with happiness to have Tim back, but upset over Gran, slammed back and forth between fits of silliness and angry sobbing all through dinner. She didn't want ham, she wanted ham, no not cut like that, skinny pieces like Gran cut it, sob, sob, sob. I sincerely hoped that Mother and Tim would do something about that whining soon.

Evan, white-faced and silent, made a quiet exit to his room after refusing dessert. I think Gran's illness hit him pretty hard. Mother followed him and returned half an hour later, a bright red spot on each cheek and a gleam in her eye. Round one for those two.

I was so wiped out, I could hardly see straight. At the doorway into the hall, I turned and said, “Do you really think Gran will be okay?”

“She has to be. We won't allow her not to be,” she said.

When I saw the look she gave Tim, I was satisfied. I staggered down the hall, and as soon as my comforter fell over me, sleep grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me down into its furry cave. The last sound I heard was the steady patter of rain, like velvet-gloved fingers tapping on the roof.

* * *

I peered at the glowing hands of my clock. Three-thirty. What had woken me up? Was it because the rain had stopped, and everything was so quiet? Or had some other noise, some sharp night sound outside my window cut through the silence of my dreams?

The window on the wall across from the foot of my bed was open and the old plaid curtains shifted with the damp breeze that shushed through the silver-edged screen. I burrowed deeper under the comforter. Suddenly I was in one of those awful moments when you are alone and you get that curious feeling that you're
not alone
. I felt goose bumps run up and down my arms like spiders. I could handle ghosts in broad daylight now, but the middle of the night was something else. Too Edgar Allan Poe for words.

I forced myself to think about Gran. And Mother and Tim. And Alex. And about the amazing events of the day. I tried to comfort myself with the thought of Gran returning the next day, but that awful feeling wrapped a little tighter around me.

I held my breath and stared wide-eyed at the wall beside my face. My skin prickled and my scalp tightened. I wondered who was making that horrible, thin, rasping sound until I realized it was me — trying not to breathe. I knew that if I turned over, one of the Rain Island people would be standing beside my bed. I just knew it.

Hero that I am, I screwed my eyes shut and covered my head. The feeling eating at me grew even stronger. Lowering the blanket, I rolled one eye as far as it would go to one side. No one. Slowly, slowly, my neck as stiff as a rusted door handle, I turned to look behind me.

Nothing.

I sat up. There was nobody there at all. With shaking hands, I lit the coal oil lamp beside my bed. Its wavering light shifted and broke across the log walls and over my bed. No one.

I felt a little better until I set down the match box on my bedside table and saw the spectacles. They seemed to shudder and shift in the dim light. Did they move just a little towards me? If I put them on, what would I see? I held them up to my eyes with shaking hands.

Frances and the girl materialized in the darker haze of light at the foot of the bed, their images trembling like the flickering of the flame in my lamp. I pushed my hips back into the pillows and held the covers up to my nose, leaving only my bulging eyes and the glasses above.

Frances was looking straight at me. I felt my breath leave my body in short, sharp bursts. She was holding both her hands in front of her, palms up, and I felt her energy move across the space between us like an electric arc.

One of her hands moved slowly away. Its fingers pointed towards the far wall, in the direction of the island. Over and over again she repeated the gesture. I nodded vigorously, not really knowing why. Her long hair was down around her shoulders in a frizzy mess. She was wearing a long-sleeved nightgown. Her cheeks seemed to have fallen inward and her eyes were deeper, full of shadows. It looked as if it had taken all her strength to lift her arms.

The girl, barely visible, stood beside her, looking around the room with interest, touching the comforter, the bedstead, and her own clothes, a look of wonderment on her shadow face. The coat she was wearing was the same coat she'd arrived in so many years ago. Although she looked in my direction, I didn't think she could see me.

Her image faded first, followed by Frances's, but not before Frances spoke to me once more with her dark, sombre eyes. I nodded with all my might, not knowing if she could see me.

As their delicate hold slowly gave way, I realized with a shock of surprise that they hadn't looked at each other. I wondered if either knew the other was there.

Not removing the spectacles, I lay stiff and still under the covers. I listened and waited, but I knew from the hollowness of the air around me that they were gone. I also knew that I'd go to the island first thing in the morning. If time didn't play a trick on me, tomorrow I'd know what this visit was all about. If Frances came all the way to my cabin, it had to be important. I wondered where she was now.

Outside, a new storm wind moaned through the trees and rain poured down like tears.