A Handful of Time (7 page)

Patricia yawned all through dinner. “Are you all right?” Aunt Ginnie asked her. “What did you three do this afternoon?”

Her aunt looked surprised and pleased when her niece grinned at her. It was impossible to believe Aunt Ginnie was grown up, she still looked so much like her four-year-old self. “We … ummm … built a fort,” Patricia answered, noting Kelly's relieved expression.

Aunt Ginnie sent her to bed early. She stretched, luxuriously alone, in the cosy sheets. This had been Ruth's room, too; maybe even her bed. It was a comforting thought.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Patricia again contrived to go to the Main Beach with Aunt Ginnie. As they waited for the others to join them, she cleared her throat and asked a tentative question.

“Aunt Ginnie … about my grandmother's husband …”

“Call her Nan, Patricia!” laughed her aunt. “I know you haven't seen her for years, but she'd want you to call her what the others do.”

“Yes, well … Nan's husband. What was his name?”

“Andrew.”

“What was his middle name?” Surely it was Wilfred.

“He had two: Thomas and Hughes. Andrew Thomas Hughes Reid. Father was quite pompous. Having three names suited him. But why do you want to know?”

Patricia babbled an answer. “I just wondered. He died before I was born, didn't he? What was he like?”

She barely listened to Aunt Ginnie's reply because she already knew what he was like. But she still didn't know who Wilfred was.

“Father could be terrifying. He made a pet of me when I was little, but later on I was frightened of him. He was one of those people who grow more rigid with age. And he was quite a bit older than Mama, you know. I sometimes wonder if she only married him because …”

“Because why?” prompted Patricia, now interested again. It was so convenient, the way Aunt Ginnie was willing to gossip about the Reids. She could learn a lot.

“Because she was trying to recover from losing her first fiancé. Mama was engaged to Father's younger brother, but he died of polio, which was a common disease in those days. She loved him very much—she's talked about him to me. She still does, sometimes. I think she never got over him.”

“What was—what was his name?” asked Patricia, guessing the answer.

“Wilfred. Now, that's a name you never hear anymore. Maggie, no! You're too far out!” Aunt Ginnie jumped up and ran down to the water.

Patricia sat dreamily on her towel. That explained why the watch was inscribed with the name Wilfred. But how did it come to be hidden under the floor? If she kept visiting the past, maybe she would find out. It was like reading an incredibly absorbing book; she wanted to discover all she could about the Reids.

Rosemary cooed beside her and Patricia picked her up, holding her hand behind the baby's neck the way Aunt Ginnie had shown her. Rosemary was a silky warm lump. Her hair smelled like vanilla. She blew a raspberry at Patricia—her latest trick—and Patricia blew one back. She hoisted the fat baby over her shoulder and held her close, as if she were guarding her secret. This afternoon she would wind the watch and go back again.

B
UT AFTER LUNCH
Aunt Ginnie had other plans. “Patricia, dear, do you feel ready to learn how to paddle the canoe? The lake's so calm today it would be a good time for Kelly to give you a lesson.”

Both Patricia and Kelly looked crestfallen, but Aunt Ginnie stilled their objections. “It's something you should know, Patricia. Don't you want to learn?”

She did—though not this afternoon. But there was nothing she could do about it. They had to gather up paddles and life jackets and carry them down to the beach.

“Don't you dare work on the fort without me!” Kelly shouted after Trevor, who pushed past them on the path.

“We can if we want to!” he yelled back.

“I hope you're a fast learner,” Kelly muttered as she tugged the canoe across the pebbles. “Then we can waste just one afternoon on this. They'll ruin that fort without me.”

Once Patricia had resigned herself to having a canoe lesson, she began to enjoy it. Kelly didn't know she had been observing someone paddle only yesterday.

“Don't sit—kneel with your legs apart and lean against the thwart,” commanded Kelly. “That's right.” She looked surprised when her cousin immediately took the correct position in the bow Patricia picked up her paddle and put her right hand over the top and her left one around the middle. When Kelly pushed off, she slipped the paddle in the water and lifted it out. The canoe moved forward.

“Hey! I thought you didn't know how to do this! You sure couldn't when you dumped it. Has someone else been teaching you?” Kelly looked suspicious.

Patricia flushed. “I've been watching you from the shore.” Again she dipped in her paddle the way she'd copied Ruth. It made only a slight splash.

“That's pretty good,” said Kelly grudgingly. “You catch on fast. Don't put it in so deep and try to get a rhythm.
One
two,
one
two …”

With both of them paddling, the canoe glided so swiftly that it left a gurgling wake behind. Then Kelly showed Patricia how to turn her paddle for the “J” stroke. “That's how I steer. Then it doesn't matter which side you paddle on. Here, I'll stop and we'll switch positions. You steer now.”

Carefully they turned in their places so that Patricia was now facing Kelly's back. It was difficult to stop the boat from going in a circle, but eventually she was able to keep it on a fairly straight course.

“You're really doing well!” Kelly's expression was one of undisguised admiration. Then she looked embarrassed, as if she hadn't meant to sound so friendly. “Next time, Potty, I'll let you try taking it out alone. Let's switch again. I'll take us to the Main Beach and back.”

All the way there Patricia matched her strokes to her cousin's. Every time she lifted up her paddle it left spinning whorls in the water. Her arm was getting sore, but she kept going. I can paddle a canoe! she thought. Like Kelly … like Ruth.

“Why is this canoe called the
Loon
?” she asked.

“Because loons come here. Our grandparents must have named it—it's a really old canoe. Christie and Bruce's is lighter, but this one's steadier.”

“What do loons look like?”

“Don't you know?” A trace of familiar scorn came back into Kelly's voice. “Loons are wonderful—big birds with black heads and speckled bands around their necks. They used to nest on this lake but now it's too noisy, so they just come here to feed. You hear them mostly at night. They sound like they're laughing. That's why people say someone's loony. It's a weird, laughing sound.”

But beautiful, too, Patricia remembered. She wished she were in the canoe with Ruth again. She wondered what Ruth was doing. Being in the
Loon
with Kelly, who looked like Ruth but wasn't, made her long for the other girl.

T
HAT EVENING
Aunt Ginnie sent them to the store as usual to get the paper. On the way they called on Christie and Bruce. Patricia cringed when Uncle Rod came into the backyard and boomed a greeting.

“Well, here's our little Easterner! Why are you still so white, when the others are as brown as berries?”

“I don't know,” whispered Patricia. She examined him fearfully. All that was left of his boyhood hair was a grey fringe above his ears. His expression was still patronizing; he looked at her in the present the way he did at Ruth in the past.

“Ready to show me your teeth, now?” Uncle Rod loomed over her.

“Daddy, we have to go!” said Christie impatiently. Patricia scuttered down the driveway after her cousins.

When they neared the store she looked around eagerly for the pump. It was still there, but it was rusty and half-buried in weeds.

“Does that old pump still work?” she asked Bruce.

“No,” Kelly answered for him. “They boarded up the well years ago because the water was contaminated.”

Patricia walked on sadly, her mouth recalling the water's tang. Then she brightened, remembering that she could go back and taste it again.

The Other Enders were sitting around the store. They read comics and chewed gum just as they had thirty-five years ago. Two of them even resembled the Thorpe girls from the past. For an instant Patricia forgot what time she was in.

Kelly walked by the group without a word.

“Hey, Kelly!” called one of the Cresswell boys, putting down his comic. His sister stared haughtily at them.

“What you want?” Kelly said coolly.

“Just to remind you to leave our boat alone or I'll tell my parents.”

“Don't worry,” retorted Kelly. “I wouldn't touch your stupid boat. I just wanted to see how flimsy it was and I was right.”

Her words sounded lame. The row of eyes observed her with pity, then dropped to their reading.

“Somehow we've got to get them!” said Kelly on the way home. “They're one up on us now.”

Patricia sighed guiltily; Kelly was probably remembering how she had let her down at the Cresswells.

Maggie ran to catch up with them. “Look what I found!” Around her neck curled a striped snake. Its tongue darted in and out rapidly as Trevor held it up.

“Look, Potty!” He waved it in her face. “Do you like garter snakes?”

“P-please don't!” gasped Patricia. She slowed her steps and let her cousins walk ahead. Their laughter floated back and the familiar feeling of isolation filled here again.

Then she remembered her secret. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow I'll go back again.

8

I
f she was right about the watch keeping its own time, it should take her back to exactly the same minute she had left: nine thirty-five in the evening. Patricia's fingers trembled as she sat on the bed in La Petite and twisted the gold knob. She decided to wind it more tightly so she could stay in the past longer.

She closed her eyes, expecting to be transported to the canoe. But she opened them on the same setting. The watch had resumed its brisk ticking, but she was still in the cabin, not out on the lake with Ruth.

It hadn't worked. Almost in tears, Patricia jumped up and paced the floor frantically. The space was too small to contain her frustration; she pushed open the door of the cabin and stumbled out.

Dusk greeted her: a hushed evening with a few stars dotting the sky. The old-fashioned car in the driveway loomed mysteriously in the dim light.

It
had
worked. Patricia tucked the watch inside her shirt, shivering with relief and excitement. She had come back, and she could stay here until the watch ran down again. She hurried to the front of the cottage to look for Ruth.

The
Loon
was gliding to shore. With a slight crunch it reached the beach, just as Pat Reid opened the door of the cottage.

“Ruth! Come in at once!”

“Coming,” answered a sullen voice below.

When Ruth appeared, her eyes were still glistening with tears. Patricia felt as if she had stopped a movie, then started it again two days later.

They went inside the cottage and Ruth was sent to bed. With dismay, Patricia realized that now she had the whole night to get through. She couldn't make the watch skip time. It ticked out every long minute and she would have to endure each one until morning.

For a while she was occupied with watching Ruth's parents. Peering over Pat Reid's shoulder, she saw that the scrapbook she was working on was about the Royal Family. “HRH Princess Elizabeth plays with HRH Prince Charles,” read the caption under a photograph she snipped out of the newspaper. In it, a pretty young woman held up a solemn-looking baby with large ears.

Shortly after the grown-ups went to bed, Gordon and Rodney arrived home. Gordon was laughing, but Rodney sulked and seemed resentful of his brother's good mood.

“Go to bed, you two,” called their father. They tramped up the kitchen stairs to the attic.

Patricia continued to look for ways to pass the time. First she crept around the cottage, peeking in at Ginnie, clutching a doll, and Ruth, twisted awkwardly in her sheets. Then she fitted together a few pieces in Ruth's jigsaw puzzle. She sat on the verandah and stared at the moon's path on the lake, while the cottage full of sleeping Reids breathed peacefully. If only she could shout and wake them all up.

Finally Patricia decided to try to sleep herself. She wasn't at all tired, but she would be later, especially when she got back to the present. Stretching out on a cot on the verandah, she tried counting sheep.

She tossed for hours. Her mind kept reviewing all the things that had happened during this strange summer. For the first time in days, she remembered her parents' separation. Why couldn't morning come so she wouldn't have to think? This night was so boring, she almost wished she were back in the present, but the watch ticked out its own time relentlessly. Patricia felt trapped, knowing she couldn't return until it stopped. The watch pulsed on her chest chest like a second heart drowning out her own.

A
LONG TIME LATER
she sat up abruptly, shaking off a dream about her parents. What was she doing on the verandah? For a few seconds she forgot she was still in the past. Then she heard again the whisper that had awakened her.

“Hurry up, Ruth!” Rodney was in the living room. As Patricia stood up sleepily Ruth tiptoed out of her room, pulling on a sweater. They brushed past her—Patricia shuddered because she didn't feel anything—and collected fishing equipment and oars from the verandah. It was surprising to see the two of them going somewhere together after their arguing yesterday.

The sun was barely up. Patricia checked the watch: five o'clock. She couldn't remember ever being out this early in the morning. The air had a bite to it and the sun glinted off the poplar leaves. Birds competed in a deafening, joyful chorus. Patricia breathed in the crisp air thirstily and swung her arms to warm up, flicking aside the spider webs that stretched across the path. Everything was new; best of all was this new day with the family she was becoming so attached to.