A Handful of Time (10 page)

“Did someone ask you?”

Ruth looked embarrassed. “Ummm … yes. To the costume party at the rec hall.”

Her mother went back to making pincurls. “I heard about that yesterday. The whole beach will be there. Your father will have to bring something from the city for us to dress up in. But you'll go with the rest of the family, not alone with a boy. Who asked you?”

“Just Tom Turner. But I said no. I don't
want
to go with him; he's a show-off like Rodney.”

“I certainly hope you don't. You're much too young.” There was a long pause. “You're an attractive girl, you know. In fact, your Aunt Sophie admitted to me you were the prettiest in the family—certainly prettier than her two.” She and Ruth examined Ruth's reflection as if it belonged to someone else.

“You're one of the lucky ones,” her mother sighed. “But good looks are a responsibility. Boys are going to start paying attention to you too soon. You just make sure you remind them how old you are.”

Ruth looked bewildered. “But why is it so important? I didn't choose to look any particular way.”

“None of us did, did we?” said her mother dryly. “But looks
are
important—for a girl they're all that matters.”

“Am
I
'tractive, Mama?” asked Ginnie from the floor.

Her mother laughed. “You're Mama's beautiful dumpling, sweetheart. Undo all those pins now, I need them.”

“Where's your watch, Mama?” asked Ginnie as she climbed onto the bed and began to unhook the bobby pins. “Why aren't you wearing it? I want to hear it tick.”

“You know I don't wear my watch at the lake. It might get damaged. I've put it away for the summer in my jewellery case.”

“Can I look at it?” Ginnie was already lifting the lid of a wooden box on the dresser.

“If you're careful.”

Patricia began to tremble. She clutched the watch around her neck. What would Pat Reid say when she discovered it was missing? And how had the watch got from the jewelry case to La Petite? She felt as guilty as if she had stolen it.

Then Ginnie pulled a long chain from the box and dangled a gold watch in the air. “Here it is!”

No! thought Patricia. It can't be—I'm wearing it around my neck.

But the watch looked exactly like hers. Shinier, perhaps, but with the same black numerals and the same glass insert. Patricia knew it was the same one. Impossibly, it was both lying unwound in Ginnie's palm and ticking away the seconds on her chest. Just as she really didn't belong here, her watch didn't either. It was as if they were both ghosts—ghosts from the future.

Ginnie pressed the knob on the watch she held. “Look, I made it open!”

“Be careful, you'll break it,” her mother mumbled through bobby pins. “Close it for her, Ruth.”

Ruth took the watch from her sister but before she snapped it shut she studied the inscription. “Is 1929 the year Father's brother died?”

“Yes … he died the week before our wedding date. The watch was an engagement present.” She crossed the last two pins on Ruth's head, reached for the watch and caressed its chain.

“What was he like?” prompted Ruth, but her mother's expression was distant and she didn't seem to hear.

Ginnie scrambled onto the bed. “Can I wind it up?”

Pat Reid stood up abruptly and put the watch back. “No, Ginnie—I've let it run down. Now go out into the sun, you two. I want to finish my book.”

P
ATRICIA SLEPT BESIDE
Ruth that night, lying on top of the covers in the same position next to the wall that she occupied in the bed with Kelly. She awoke refreshed, overjoyed that she was still in the past.

That morning Andrew Reid drove the boys and Ruth—and Patricia—into town. Patricia hadn't been there yet, although she knew it was where the power plant was located in the present. Today the town was a peaceful-looking collection of ramshackle wooden buildings. Hardly anyone was in the streets and the woman in the tiny post office looked up sleepily when the Reids pushed through the door to collect the mail.

Andrew Reid frowned at the letter he had opened. “It's a good thing I'm going back to the city on Monday. They can't seem to run the law firm properly without me.”

“Will you bring us some new badminton birds next weekend, sir?” Rodney asked him as they walked to the general store.

“And I need a polishing cloth for my telescope—I'll write down the brand,” added Gordon. The boys and their father strode confidently down the street, Ruth lingering behind.

Patricia paused with her when she stopped to stroke a horse that was tethered to a wagon in front of the store. The back of the wagon was full of Indian children, their dark eyes watching Ruth cautiously.

“You like horses?” the biggest boy asked.

Ruth nodded, her face buried in the horse's neck. Patricia was careful not to get too near, even though the horse couldn't hurt her when she was invisible.

“Ruth! Get away from there!” Andrew Reid's deep voice broke the torpid silence of the street as he and the boys came out of the store loaded with groceries.

Ruth joined them reluctantly. Her father didn't say anything to her until they were back at the grey car. Then he put down his bag and turned her around by the shoulders to face him.

“Listen to me, young lady. You are not to speak to the Indians! I've told you that before. We mind our business and they mind theirs. Your mother would be furious if she knew you'd been near those children—they didn't look very clean.”

“I was just patting the horse …” Ruth began, but her father's fierce expression quelled her.

All the way back to the cottage Patricia studied the back of Andrew Reid's neck. It bristled with short white hairs and was as stiff and immobile as a tree trunk. She couldn't help thinking about Wilfred. He may have been Andrew's brother, but she was sure he must have been nicer.

A
T THE DINNER TABLE
that night Andrew Reid gave his children a General Knowledge quiz. Even Ginnie had a turn.

“All right, Ginnie. Who's the most famous skater in Canada?”

“Barbara Ann Scott!” she crowed. “I want a Barbara Ann Scott doll for my birthday, Papa.”

“How many provinces are there?” her father asked the older children.

“Nine,” said Rodney.

Ruth looked smug. “You're wrong, Rodney. Newfoundland just joined.”

“Good for you, Ruth,” her father said grudgingly. “You should have known that,” he told his sons.

When Ruth answered more questions correctly, he was even sterner. “Are you going to let a girl beat you, boys? You'd better start reading the paper.”

A few hours later the family went down to the beach for a bonfire. Ginnie lay wrapped in a blanket on her mother's lap, her eyes closing and opening as she struggled to stay awake. Ruth roasted a marshmallow an even brown as her father and the boys adjusted Gordon's telescope. Then they played word games until it got dark.

Patricia lay on her back on the pebbly beach and stared with wonder at the countless stars above her. She had never seen this many except in a planetarium.

Gordon peered through his telescope with his head cocked sideways. “I think I've got Jupiter. Look, Rodney, you can see its moons.” The telescope, which looked homemade, was a large black tube mounted on a wooden stand.

Everyone except Ruth's mother took a turn gazing through it. “I can't see anything through that contraption,” she complained. “I'd rather use my eyes. Tell us some of the constellations, Gordon.”

They all lay down, even Andrew Reid, who looked undignified spread full length on the beach. Gordon's voice was eager as he pointed out stars. “There's Scorpius—see that reddish star? That's Antares, the largest star in the sky.”

Patricia tried to trace the scorpion's tail. For a few seconds it stood out until she blinked. She found the patterns of Lyra and Sagittarius more easily.

They sat up and the boys peered through the telescope again. Ginnie had given in to sleep. Ruth's back was towards her family her arms clasped around her knees as she gazed at the black lake. The water lapped softly and a loon warbled.

Andrew Reid pulled on his pipe and blew out a swirl of bitter-smelling smoke. “We're a lucky family, Pat,” he said gruffly. “Four healthy children and a place like this to come to.”

His wife was staring into the fire. “Yes, Andrew,” she said distantly. Then she sighed and turned to him as if she had just heard his words. “Yes, we are lucky. Thank goodness the boys were too young for the war and you were too old.”

“It's a wonderful time to be young,” her husband continued. “I envy you boys. The world's at peace. Edmonton will boom with that oil discovery in Leduc. You should both be able to make successes of yourselves.”

Ruth turned around. “What about me?”

“Why, I want you and Ginnie to marry well and raise large families. I want lots of grandchildren!” her father smiled.

“What if I don't have children?”

“Don't be silly, Ruth—of course you will,” her mother said. Patricia reminded herself that Ruth would grow up to be her mother. She shivered, feeling more like a ghost than ever.

“I
HAVE A TREAT FOR US
,” said Pat Reid the next morning. “Kay Weber's brother is an Anglican clergyman, and he's here for the weekend. He's going to conduct a service at their cottage tomorrow morning. You know how much I miss church at the lake.”

“Church in the summer, Ma! That's too much,” groaned Gordon.

“I'll pass, thank you,” said Rodney.

“Me, too,” added Ruth.

Ginnie pouted. “I hate going to church, Mama, it's so boring.”

Even her husband looked resentful, although he didn't say anything.

Pat Reid stared at them, the anger rising in her face like water filling a glass. She clapped her palms on the table. “You will
all
go, with no rude remarks or complaints. All of you! If we can't go to church together …” Her voice grew shriller with each word.

Andrew Reid shot a warning glance at his children, then spoke calmly. “All right, Pat. Of course we'll go. Apologize to your mother at once, children.”

There was a mumbled chorus of “sorrys.” Everyone's breath was stilled while they waited to see if Pat Reid's outburst would subside. Her voice became steadier.

“Very well. Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock.”

R
IGHT AFTER
they got back from the church service the next morning, the watch ran out. Ruth was again sitting on the Main Beach with Ginnie, reading to her from a book called
Just Mary
. Patricia found herself back in the present right in the middle of a sentence. Then she lay on the bed in La Petite for a long time.

She was worn out. It was too much, darting back and forth in time. This trip had been such a long one, she didn't know if she could go through another extended period yet, even though she much preferred being there than here.

She hid the watch and strolled out into the rain, blinking as she tried to become accustomed to being back. For the rest of the day she joined Kelly and the others, still grounded, on the verandah. They didn't seem to mind her being with them; Kelly even looked relieved that she'd returned. But Patricia wouldn't give in to her friendly overtures. For the first time, she felt superior to Kelly. Her cousin knew how to do a lot of things Patricia didn't, but she didn't know Patricia's secret.

Uncle Doug arrived for the weekend and they had to listen to another lecture about the horses. At least it didn't last long; he wasn't as good at scolding as his wife.

He'd brought Patricia a letter from her mother. It was her usual short account of current events, written with forced cheerfulness. All about her work and nothing about the separation. Patricia shuddered at the strangeness of reading a letter from Ruth at age forty-seven when she'd just been sitting beside her on the beach at age twelve. The two Ruths were so different. What had happened to turn the girl she liked so much into her mother?

That evening Patricia had disturbing news. “Your Nan's coming, dear,” beamed Aunt Ginnie. “She phoned this afternoon. She's very excited—she hasn't seen you since you were eight!”

For a few seconds Patricia was indifferent. She wrote to her grandmother in Calgary twice a year, thanking her for birthday and Christmas cheques. She could hardly remember what she looked like.

Then she put down the piece of watermelon she was eating as she realized with shock what Aunt Ginnie had said. Nan was Pat Reid. The woman Patricia had been watching in the past was coming
here
.

And Patricia had her watch. Surely Nan didn't know it had been under the floor in the cabin. She must have lost it long ago. Patricia didn't want to give it back; it felt like her watch now.

She asked shakily, “When is Nan coming?”

“Around noon on Tuesday. Uncle Doug's taking the day off to drive her out. She'll stay in La Petite. You and Kelly can help me tidy it up.”

“Don't forget I'm doing the floor tomorrow,” Uncle Doug reminded her.

Now Patricia was frantic. What if they found the watch under the mattress? She would have to look for a new hiding place.

She finished her dessert with difficulty. She didn't want to meet her grandmother as she was now; the past and the present would get all mixed up.

11

W
hen Nan arrived, Patricia hid behind the others so she could observe her privately, the way she did when she was invisible.

A thin figure stepped carefully out of the car. She was very different from the woman Patricia knew from thirty-five years ago. Shorter, with her back and shoulders curving into a stoop. Instead of a cotton dress, she wore green pants and a loose top that looked out of place with the double strand of pearls knotted around her wiry neck. Her hair was permed into even, irongrey curls. Although her ugly mouth still twisted when it smiled, her expression had become aggressive instead of vague.