Threaded Through Time, Book Two, page 2
part #2 of Threaded Through Time Series
Robin shook her head. “We did think about searching cemetery records—”
Margaret shuddered.
“—but we couldn’t do it, not while you were still here. If we had, I doubt we would have found one for you—not for a Margaret Wilton who never married. You haven’t died yet.” Robin hesitated. “For the same reason I haven’t. Our deaths are in the future.”
How could this be? Two months ago she’d stood in her bedroom worrying about marrying a man she didn’t love. Now she faced a life one hundred years in the future with a woman she did love. She couldn’t grasp it. When would it seem real? Next week? Next month, when the full moon came and went? Next year? How did Robin feel about it? Two months ago Robin had shared a house with Pam, not expecting two people from the past to appear out of nowhere. Now Pam was gone, and Margaret would depend on Robin until she could independently navigate this time. Robin was in university, had a family, friends, a life that didn’t include Margaret.
She looked into Robin’s eyes. “This will not only be trying for me, but also for you. Please tell me how you feel about it. I don’t want to be a burden for you. I know what we said to each other in 1910, but you didn’t expect this. If you want me to, I’ll read the rhyme.” Her throat tightened. “I’ll understand.”
Robin blinked at her, then let out a long, heartfelt sigh. “It’s going to be rough, really rough, without Pam, but you can’t read the rhyme, and I wouldn’t want you to. Not only because I care about you, but because it’s too risky, for all of us.” Her face darkened. “If Pam wants to come back, she has the book. Her copy didn’t come with us.” Robin almost sounded angry. “But don’t worry about Pam, or me. It’s your decision. You stand to lose the most.”
“That isn’t true,” Margaret said quietly. “Pam is dear to you.”
Robin bit her lip and nodded.
“In all honesty, my mind is bursting right now. I’m torn between you and my family, knowing that if I were to go back, my life would never be the same—and not knowing if I would ever see my family again anyway, because I didn’t return when expected, and there aren’t any letters in the attic.” But she knew. Deep down, she knew. She gathered her courage and resolve. “What I know in my heart, above all, is that I won’t risk taking you back to my time, or any time when you would be scorned.”
“Margaret—”
“No, Robin. You said I have the most to lose, but I don’t. I grant you my losses will be dire, but I was prepared to leave my family and friends so I could live an honest life. I am making the same choice now.” For both of them. “If I read that rhyme and you return to 1910, I could never live with myself for taking away from you what I wanted so much, I was prepared to turn my life upside down for it. So unless you tell me that you want me to go, that you couldn’t bear it if I stay, I will not read the rhyme.” She waited, suddenly appreciating what the bride and groom must feel when the minister asks that anyone who knows a reason why the two shouldn’t marry should speak now.
“Like I said, I don’t want you to read the rhyme. I just wanted to make sure that you . . .” Robin snorted. “Well, of course you understand what it means.”
“It means I will need your help.” Now that Margaret had voiced her desire to remain in this time, she couldn’t hold back her panic. “You’re all I have. I’m nobody here. I don’t have a name!”
Robin pulled her hands away and grasped Margaret’s shoulders. “You’re Margaret Wilton. You’ll adapt to living here. And I’ll always be here for you. No matter what happens—between us—I promise you that. I’ll always be here. I’m your family now.”
Margaret’s vision blurred. “I meant everything I said to you in 1910.”
Robin smiled. “So did I.”
She didn’t protest when Robin pulled her into an embrace, but though her eyes were moist, she was too numb to cry. A flood of tears would come later, when she truly understood that her family and friends were all gone. Dead.
“Now we have the time we never thought we’d have,” Robin murmured into Margaret’s ear. “That’s one bright spot. Right?”
Did she still not believe that Margaret truly loved her? “Yes. I’m glad we do.” She’d fantasized about living out her life with Robin, never dreaming that her flight of fancy would become a potential reality. Robin understood that she needed time to fully accept her true nature. Margaret had thought to bury that part of herself in a nunnery. Now she’d try to overcome her fear and embrace it, while trying to adjust to the loss of almost everyone she loved, and to a familiar yet alien world. It would be easier to close her eyes and remain in Robin’s arms forever, but the time for fantasy was over.
She drew back, and accepted one of those horrible tissues Robin snapped from the box on the night stand. “What should I do now?” she asked as she dabbed at one eye.
Robin frowned. “I don’t know about you, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep for a while. It’s early anyway.”
Margaret nodded.
“Why don’t you change, and then we’ll have tea and try to relax for a bit?” Robin picked up Pam’s letter. “I think I’ll change, too. Sort of a symbolic act, you know? I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Margaret managed a small smile. “All right.” But after the door clicked shut behind Robin, she couldn’t bring herself to undress right away. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, the only vestige of her life in 1910. Shedding them would be shedding that life—and then what? The rest of her life stretched before her, a dark and perilous unknown, with Robin the only light to guide her. Margaret stared down at her hands, and only then noticed that her engagement ring was no longer on her finger.
*****
Robin shut the door to Pam’s bedroom and leaned against it. Jesus, Pam. Jesus! She lifted the letter and read it again. Oh, sure, Margaret will take your identity, just like that. No problem. Shit! Pam had really dropped her in it this time—her, and Margaret. Robin understood that Pam loved—had loved? Shit!—Jasper, but giving up life here to stay with him in 1910? This wasn’t a fucking movie. God, Pam. You would have found someone here eventually. But she loved Jasper, just as Robin loved Margaret. She was glad that Margaret was here—and freaking terrified. It would be so much easier if Pam had returned too. How would she explain Pam’s disappearance into thin air? How would she get Margaret into the system? How would Margaret cope, once the shock wore off?
The trusting look in Margaret’s eyes when she’d asked, What should I do now . . . Robin had answered as if Margaret meant, “What should I do in the next five minutes?” But the question was applicable to the rest of her life. What would she do? Robin wanted to cry.
Nope, she couldn’t lose it, not when she was Margaret’s only lifeline. She was home. She had her life and was in her own time. If anyone had freak-out rights, Margaret did. Robin’s gaze settled on the bed, then on Pam’s phone, resting on the night stand next to the photo of her parents; on her sweats draped over the back of the chair; on the tanzanite crystal from Jake’s on top of the dresser. She raised a trembling hand to cover her mouth and heaved a shuddering sigh. Then she steeled herself. Margaret shouldn’t have to wait in an empty kitchen while she blubbered upstairs.
She didn’t really need to change; she’d used it as an excuse to give herself a few minutes to hyperventilate in private. Time’s up. Dropping the letter next to the tanzanite, Robin pulled open the drawer Pam had temporarily assigned to her, which would now be hers for longer than she’d expected. She’d try not to cry herself to sleep tonight—she’d be surprised if she slept at all. Tomorrow morning she’d let a long shower wash away her tears, then try to figure out how best to help Margaret pick up the pieces.
Chapter Two
Pam sipped her coffee and grimaced. Okay, so the coffee available in the guest house wasn’t all that great, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t good coffee to be had in this time period. She took another bite of her toast and leaned back in her chair. If only she could be a fly on the wall in one hundred years, when Robin and Margaret found themselves back in 2010—together! The surprise, the widening eyes and smouldering looks as they realized they could be together forever, and then the embrace and the passionate kiss . . . Pam clasped her hand over her heart. It would be just like an old movie—if they’d made old movies in which the lesbians didn’t die horrible deaths in the end, or be locked up in lunatic asylums or prisons, or commit suicide. Would Robin and Margaret enjoy a night of passion? Probably not. They weren’t ready for that yet, unlike her and Jasper.
She glanced at the rumpled bedclothes visible through the open bedroom doorway. Jasper had left only an hour ago, but it already felt like a lifetime. When she told Robin about— Pam blinked rapidly and swallowed her mouthful of toast. Robin couldn’t have stayed here, but Pam didn’t know yet whether all of them returning to 2010 would have been a better scenario. Maybe by this time next year she’d be wondering what the hell she’d been thinking, and fighting the desire to get back to her own time. But right now, being here felt pretty damn good—except that Robin was gone. Damn it, woman, you’d better have a wonderful life. Pam certainly intended to, so she wouldn’t start her first day as a permanent resident in 1910 getting all maudlin. Think about the positives: you’re with Jasper. Robin’s back in 2010 where she belongs, and Margaret . . . oh Margaret, your life will be so much better than it could have been here. Cripes, wait until she saw the Gay Pride parade! Just that would make it all worth it. The woman had made a wise choice when she’d decided to stay in the future.
She ate the last of her toast, then tidied up the guest house to keep herself occupied. Should she dress to go out? Jasper had gone to the main house to phone his friend in Halifax; he thought that they should leave Toronto as soon as possible. Pam was supposed to be practising Margaret’s handwriting, so she could write the sayonara note to her parents. She opened the engagement book on the kitchen table and skimmed the entries. Margaret had been quite the social butterfly, but with no TV or Internet, what else was there to do except hang out with friends?
Shit! She’d only just picked up the fountain pen and it was already leaking all over her fingers. She wiped them on a handkerchief she’d found in one of the dresser drawers, then tensed when she heard a car pull up to the house. It would be Jasper, but just in case, she hovered outside the bedroom, prepared to duck into hiding. The front door swung open. When Jasper stepped into the living room, Pam blew out a relieved sigh. “Did you phone Oliver?”
He nodded. She stared at him for a moment, then went to him and threw her arms around his neck. After restraining herself for so long, not having to worry about embracing him and kissing him and wanting to drag him into the bedroom to mess up the bedclothes again was liberating. The quick kiss she’d intended to give him left them breathless when they finally drew apart five minutes later.
“There’s definitely something to be said for passion in a relationship,” Jasper said hoarsely. He led her by the hand to the two chairs near the fire. “Oliver is expecting us.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That my father and I had an argument about my desire to leave the family business and that I want to leave Toronto to start fresh elsewhere.”
Pam leaned forward. “What about me?”
“I’d already told him that I’m engaged to you—Margaret. I said that you wanted to come with me and that we’d marry after we’d found somewhere to live. He’ll be able to accommodate us in a fashion that won’t raise eyebrows.”
“You mean separate bedrooms, right?”
“Not quite. I’ll stay with him. You’ll stay with his parents, though they’re currently touring Europe.” He smiled when Pam groaned. “Oliver lives on the same estate, so we won’t be far from each other. His sister Doris is around your age. She can introduce you to her friends and help you with the wedding. She’s also engaged, but they’re not marrying until the summer.”
The wedding. It sounded surreal.
“I’ll go to the train station this afternoon and purchase our tickets. I’m hoping we can be on a train tomorrow.”
“I need clothes! I have a couple of dresses and the items that Margaret lent me, but—”
Jasper raised his hand. “We’ll worry about that when we’re there. The less we’re seen here, the better.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking about the Wiltons. We need to explain why Margaret and I fled to Halifax.”
“You—we—eloped because we couldn’t wait to get married.”
He shook his head. “Nothing is preventing us from having a quick wedding here.”
“We’ll tell them the same thing you told Oliver.”
“Why would Margaret leave without telling them? We have to explain why she left without saying good-bye.” He heaved his shoulders. “I’ve come up with a possible reason. As much as it pains me—”
The sound of another car had them both on their feet. Jasper glanced out the window and paled. “The Wiltons!” he hissed.
Holy shit!
“Hide!”
Pam didn’t have to be told twice. Blood pounding in her ears, she darted into the bedroom Robin had used and shut the door, but she felt exposed. If anyone came in . . . She went to the tall dresser against the same wall as the door and crouched next to it. As long as nobody walked into the room and turned around, she should be all right.
“The butler told us you’d gone for a drive around the estate.” The deep voice was audible through the paper-thin wall. Margaret’s father?
“Where’s Margaret?” Mrs. Wilton. “Last night she went to make tea and never came back. One of the neighbours told us he saw your motor outside the house.”
Shit. If they’d known how things would turn out, they would have been more careful not to be seen.
“Let me handle this, May. Perhaps you should wait outside.”
“No! I’m not naive, James. I knew what was going on as soon as we saw Jasper’s motor outside this house. No, I knew when we spoke to the neighbours last night. So did you. Otherwise we would have had the police out looking for her!”
Shit!
“Where is she?” Mrs. Wilton cried. “Is she here? Margaret? Margaret!”
Pam jumped and held her breath when the door suddenly swung open. “Margaret?” Mrs. Wilton said loudly. The door swung shut. Pam slowly exhaled. Jesus, she was shaking. She heard the door to the other bedroom open. “Margaret? Oh my Lord!”
“What?” Mr. Wilton barked.
“One of Margaret’s dresses. Oh, James. And here’s her engagement book.” Footsteps thumped back into the living room. “Where is she?”
“Where’s my daughter?” Mr. Wilton asked.
“She’s gone,” Jasper said.
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
Pam’s brow furrowed. Yes, what did he mean?
“She’s on her way to Halifax.”
Silence, then, “Why? And why are her things still here?”
“She’s with child,” Jasper said.
Pam gaped, then winced when she heard a loud slap. Ouch, that must have hurt. Jasper’s ears were probably ringing.
“You bastard!” Mrs. Wilton shouted. “You take advantage of my daughter and then send her away to have a baby? You’re going to wash your hands of the entire affair and marry someone else?”
“Mrs. Wilton—”
“Oh my Lord. Oh James. No wonder she hasn’t been herself lately. Oh, and remember the Halloween Ball? Her tricky tummy? Oh my Lord.”
“I trusted you,” Mr. Wilton growled. “I thought you’d make a worthy husband.”
“I will,” Jasper said. “I still intend to marry Margaret.”
“Then why have you sent her away to Halifax?”
“Even though I’ll marry Margaret, my parents will always consider our child illegitimate. My family will never accept Margaret now. They’ll look down on the child. We need a fresh start somewhere else. Margaret’s already ashamed—”
“As she should be!” Mrs. Wilton thundered. “Stupid, stupid girl!”
Pam rolled her eyes. Jesus, lady, get a grip. They’d had a roll in the hay, not murdered anyone. She looked down at her stomach. Shit! Hopefully she wasn’t pregnant. That daughter of theirs had better not make her entrance into the world nine months from now. She stifled a gasp with her hand. Did they have epidurals here? She’d always known that, when the time came, she wouldn’t want any part of that natural childbirth crap.
“We knew we had to leave, but she couldn’t face you and tell you about her predicament,” Jasper said.
“So you decided to run away like cowards!” Mr. Wilton said. “I knew something was brewing last night. Margaret was nervous and kept looking at the clock.”
“I would have left with her, but I have some business to conclude here. Margaret will send you a letter—”
“Tell her not to bother!” Mrs. Wilton shrieked. “And tell her all her belongings are going to the poor!”
“May!”
“No, James, I won’t have this. She’s no better than a—a Tillman! She lied to us! Tea and scones, indeed.”
Mr. Wilton wasn’t so eager to be rid of his daughter. “They can move up the wedding, get married next week.”
“A quick wedding won’t fool anyone. All it will do is set tongues wagging, and when the baby arrives in . . .”
“Five months,” Jasper said.
“Five months. Oh my Lord.” Pam could imagine the stunned expression on Mrs. Wilton’s face. “Idiot girl! Tell her to enjoy her new life in Halifax! And tell her not to come crawling back. I won’t have a harlot under my roof!”
A moment later, the front door slammed shut. A motor roared to life. When Pam could no longer hear the car, she left her hiding place and opened the door a crack. Jasper was slumped forward in one of the chairs near the fire, rubbing his forehead. “I should see Father before the Wiltons speak to him,” he murmured. “When he hears that I’m leaving the family business and about Margaret’s pregnancy, he’ll help the Wiltons drag my name through the mud.” His shoulders stiffened. “And Margaret’s.”
