Who Is Frances Rain? (3 page)

Chapter Five

TIM bumped and rattled the car to the end of the dirt road where he parked under a clump of birch. The baggage had to be lugged a good two hundred yards along a footpath to a high rocky clearing along the shore of Rain Lake.

The sun glinted off an aluminum boat tied up at the dock. Gran stood up in the glare and waved. I recognized her straw hat and felt a rush of happiness. We all waved back and began to walk down the sloping rock.

Tim, hulking along behind me on the footpath, had managed to step on the backs of my sneakers about fifty times, so I was glad when we could spread out on the downhill walk. Evan ran down onto the dock and leaned over to swing Gran up and out of the boat. At least that was his intention, but it's hard to swing almost six feet of stringy muscle up and out of anywhere. They compromised. Gran hoisted one long thin leg and then the other over the edge of the boat, throwing an arm over his shoulders. Erica, who'd raced ahead too, caught her somewhere around the mid-section and the three of them, locked together, walked carefully onto shore. Evan's face was spread with the first real smile I'd seen on it in months, but when he saw the rest of us watching, he pulled himself together and scowled.

“Where's my Lizzie?” Gran demanded in her deep rusty voice, after receiving Mother's quick kiss on the cheek. “Get down here and collect your kiss.”

I dropped my luggage and ran to her. Her strong arms pulled me close and I planted one on her velvety cheek.

“And this must be my new son-in-law,” she said, over my shoulder. “Finally, we meet. What on earth made you decide to take this crew on for the summer?”

Tim was standing just above us on the sloping rock. In his new plaid shorts, his new flowered shirt, and his ugly white gob hat with a hole in the brim, he looked like King Kong goes to Hawaii. His ridiculous yellow work boots were turned toes out to the sides.

“And you must be my new mother-in-law,” he said, lumbering towards her, hand outstretched.

“Call me Terry,” she said, shaking his hand. “We may as well get a move on, Tim. We've got a lot of work to do around here, don't we?”

Tim looked over my head at Gran. I saw his eyes flicker, and then he smiled, a sideways twitch, as if he was sharing a secret joke with her. She chuckled and I hated Tim for pushing in between Gran and me.

“Come on, everyone, pick up some stuff and let's get a move on,” Mother ordered, picking her way to the boat, carrying her straw purse and the dog's leash.

“Yeah, I'm not loading this boat by myself.” Evan dumped a pile of fishing gear into the bow. He sat down on the edge of the dock, took off his sneakers and stuck his feet in the water.

“It wouldn't do you any harm, Evan, to take some of the heavier stuff and put it by the dock to be picked up later,” Mother said. She was watching Tim and Gran suspiciously.

“So, how about Miss Lizzie over there?” asked Evan. “She's just standing around looking like she swallowed a live fly. Make
her
get going.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, under my breath.

“She said shut up, Mama,” said Erica helpfully.

“The usual symptoms of too-long-in-the-car-itis,” commented Gran, picking up the cooler. “I've seen these kids get off the bus snarling like three little red foxes over a bit of cooked stew.” She laughed, a thin squeaking sound, like someone opening a metal gate.

After we'd loaded the boat, I sat as far from everyone as I could on a little seat at the bow of the boat. I braided my hair into a long plait, holding it firmly over one shoulder.

The wind hit us with a wallop the second we nosed into the main body of the lake. The boat was a sixteen footer with a twenty-five on the back, and even though we'd left a lot of the gear on the shore, it would still take us a while to go the three miles to the cabin. I turned around and faced into the wind, burrowing my feet under a pile of luggage in the nose.

We slid through the waves, slicing a thick wedge at the front and a deep trench at the back. The sun glinted off the choppy surface, searing my eyes with its dazzle.

Suddenly all my anger was gone. It was good to be back. Not just good — it was great. Let the others sit hunched against the wind. To heck with snotty brothers, pushy stepfathers and whiny sisters. I looked back at Gran.

She was holding on to her straw hat with one hand, the other gripping the motor's handle. Our eyes held for a brief moment and we smiled. Just like always, she knew what I was thinking. I was home.

Chapter Six

ABOUT a half mile from Gran's camp we passed a large island. There's also a smaller one between it and her place that we use for overnight camping and wiener roasts. The small one's called Little Island — not too original. The big one, Rain Island, was always off limits to us kids. There were too many sharp rocks below the surface of the water that canoes and small boats could smash up on.

I watched Rain Island pass by about three hundred feet away, high and rocky with a thick stand of pines at the centre. Their twisted tops reminded me of a fantasy castle's turrets. Maybe this year, it would be my castle, my retreat, where I could pull up my canoe and cut myself off from the rest of the world.

Light flickered in broken patterns deep in the secret places of Rain Island. Imagine. Whole hours away from Mother's closed face, from Evan's smart-ass mouth, and from a stepfather who hung around poking his nose into everything.

Now that everything's over, I keep trying to remember if I felt anything unusual, a premonition or even a vaguely uneasy feeling when I made my decision to go to Rain Island. But no, I was just plain excited. It would be my secret place. No one would know I was there.

The sight of Gran's cabin brought me back to earth — well, water. When she nudged the boat expertly along the side of the sturdy dock, I hopped out and threw the heavy chain over the sawed-off tree stump on shore, where it landed with a clank and rattle. In single file, we carried luggage up the narrow path.

“Hey! This is great, Mrs. MacCallum,” boomed Tim. “Why, it's the epitome of every wilderness cabin I've ever read about.” He was gaping around and creating a traffic jam.

“I told you. Call me Terry,” said Gran. “But it is beautiful, even if I do say so myself. My husband Bill and I built it, years ago.”

It is a great place, large, low and rambling, with a shake roof, a stone fireplace and a thirty-foot, screened-in veranda — all in huge logs yellowed by layers of spar varnish and oil.

Tall pines and fat little spruce huddle close around it. When a wind picks up, they creak and rub against the walls and windows. That first day, though, the sun was shining and branches bobbed up and down, waving a childlike hello. The sun slanting through the pines along the path threw a pale greenish light over everything.

Evan beat me back to the boat and took off to get the rest of the supplies. I shook my fist at him. He thumbed his nose back and gunned the motor up to full speed, riding the crests of the waves across the sparkling water.

I turned around to find Tim blocking the path again.

“Boy, this place is really something, eh?” he said. “I could live here forever.”

“I wouldn't bet on it,” I said out of the corner of my mouth. “City people start to get whiny after a day or two. Besides, Mother may have something to say about how long you stay. Here or anywhere else.” That last bit was said under my breath, but loud enough.

When I pushed past him, I felt his eyes bore through the back of my neck. Wasn't he ever going to tell me to shut my fat mouth? How come I never felt satisfied anymore about lipping off? In fact, I only seemed to get madder inside. Come to that, how come I ended up feeling like the creep? I kicked a stone angrily and hurt my toe. It seemed appropriate.

“Hey! Tim! Wait for me,” cried Erica from the veranda. “I gotta do something. Gran's busy. I need you.”

“Sure thing, Peanut,” he called back. “Come on down!”

She giggled and hurried past me. “Coming!”

“Shit! If those two get any friendlier, I'll barf,” I muttered as I slammed into the cabin.

“What's that you say, Lizzie? Are you using profanity in my house?” called Gran through the kitchen door.

I sighed and shoved my hands into my back pockets. Gran has a hearing problem — that is, until you mutter swear words under your breath. Then she has ears like the white-tailed deer that come to her backyard salt licks.

Walking slowly through the wide room with its bookcases, its overstuffed furniture and huge stone fireplace, I knew it was going to be hard to stay mad at anyone out here.

A trace of log fires, along with the cabiny odours of oakum, wicker furniture and warm sunny days, hung in the air. Yep. It was going to be hard. I'd have to work at it.

Chapter Seven

“I SEE you've got a new set of outdoor steps,” I said. “I like the crisscross pattern in the little logs under the handrail.”

Gran looked up from her sandwich-making. “Alex Bird did it during the few decent weekends we had this spring. He's even better than his dad at building things.”

I picked up a knife and began buttering bread. She pushed a bowl of egg salad towards me and said, “Well? How've you been?”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

“Each of you looks like you lost your best friend. Except Evan. He looks like he'd like to kill
his
best friend. Okay, you say?”

“Yeah. Just okay.”

I kept on working until the silence got to me. When I looked up, she was looking straight at me.

“Let's try again. How're things going? Have you heard from your dad?”

“A few notes. A couple of phone calls.”

Gran pushed her face closer and narrowed her eyes. “And no plane ticket for Evan? He was so sure that your dad would send for him.”

“No.”

“I figured that. But how are things generally around your place? Are you going to tell me?”

I put my knife down. “Okay, you asked for it. Things around our place generally stink. And it's been worse since
he
came. For a while they got along and then one night they had this big argument, and Mother went back to being Ms. Icicle of the Year.” I looked around the kitchen. “It's good to be home. Boy, is it ever, Gran.”

Her long, leathery face softened, and her eyes smoothed my hair, touched my face gently and looked deep inside me all at the same time. Everything poured out then. How Mother had started coming home later every night, how Evan was such a jerk, how Tim had moved in and taken over everything, and how even Erica had deserted me for him. But most of all, how I didn't belong there anymore.

“Maybe I should get away, like Dad. To sort things out. Nobody would care if I was gone.”

I sat down on one of the press-backed chairs that stood around the scarred old table and stared at my hands. I swallowed hard a few times to keep the tears back.

Gran leaned against the counter, not saying anything. I lifted my eyes just high enough to see the man's watch with the gold expansion bracelet she wore. It always hung loose on her skinny wrist and flopped all around when she worked. Sometimes, if her other hand's busy, I've seen her read the time practically standing on her head. It was Granddad's watch, given to him for forty years with the Fish Narrows Mining Company. I waited for her to say something. When I looked up, she just stood there smiling sadly down at me like a kindly crane.

A squeal from Erica and Tim's booming laugh came in the windows on the breeze.

Quietly, more as if she were speaking to herself, Gran said, “I like that fella. As soon as I laid eyes on him. I just hope your mother doesn't lose him.”

“So what? Cripes, you've just met him. You don't know what he's like,” I said. “But he'll be all over this place, getting in the way. I
know
.”

“Do you really think you know?” she asked. “Or have you just decided you know the person you've made up in your mind? He's written me a few times, and I liked what I read. He's worried about your ma. That's why he insisted that she come here. She has to come to terms with your dad's leaving before she can start a new life. She thought she'd worked it through, but she hasn't.”

All I really heard was the part about her and Toothy writing each other. They'd become friends without my knowing. He'd wheedled his way in with her before he arrived. The man was a slug.

“I'd like to start a whole new life,” I said. “I wish I lived a hundred years ago.” I leaned forward. “I wish I could live here with you.”

“Maybe the best way to make wishes come halfway true is to work at the things you're wishing yourself away from. Wishes can become a prison.”

I wanted to ask her to explain, but she was looking at something inside her own mind.

“Your ma and I are as different as day and night,” she said. “She could hardly wait to get to the big city university. I grew up in city life and hated it. I came up here to teach, met your granddad and loved every minute since.”

“After Mom and Dad got married, they hardly ever came up here to visit, did they?”

The look of sadness deepened. “Your dad's father was a big-time lawyer. So was your dad, as time went on. And now your ma, too. They were just too busy to get up here, I guess. And your ma always hated this place. Too isolated. You know.”

“Funny, I can hardly wait for summer to come, so I can get here,” I said.

She nodded. “I know, Lizzie girl.” She began to cut the sandwiches. “Well, Tim walked right into a hornet's nest, didn't he?”

“I don't see why he had to walk in at all. Now, they're not talking to each other, and he'll probably take off. Just like Dad.”

She put her hand on my shoulder. “I know how it is to feel left behind and left out. Being brought up by my grandparents was hard. They were too old to take on a young girl. Old-fashioned and strict. I felt all alone and angry. Sometimes it takes a while before you really know why people do things. Especially when they're your parents. Someday you and Evan will understand a little more.”

“When Tim and Mother first got married, she seemed different. You know ... softer ... and she laughed more. Since their fight, everything's a mess.”

“Give your ma a chance, Lizzie, give her time,” she said. “Give Tim a chance, too. You need him, though you don't think so now.”

There he was again, pushing in. “You're just like Erica. He's not such a big deal. He never does anything except butt in. And smile and smile and smile!”

She squeezed my shoulder. “Lord child, you can be a pain in the backside. Take these sandwiches into the main room and call the rest of the Happy Gang for lunch.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Please let me get through this summer without drowning one of them.”

I threw her a haughty look and marched out of the kitchen with my eggy tray. I thought I heard a soft snort behind me.