Margaret snagged the cobweb on Pam’s head, then ducked to avoid one of Pam’s flailing arms. “It’s all right. It’s just a cobweb.”
Pam’s arms stilled. She lifted her head and eyed the cobweb draped over Margaret’s fingers.
“Oh.” She slumped into Robin’s chair. “I thought it was a daddy longlegs. I hate the little buggers.”
So much for twenty-first-century women. Margaret deposited the cobweb in what looked like a trash bin.
Jasper smiled indulgently. “Let me do it.”
“No. I’ll do it.” Robin picked up the flashlight and cast a suspicious glance at him. “You might have a diary tucked in your jacket.”
“What, you’re not worried they’ll murder me while you’re up there?” Pam said.
“I’m taking my phone.” Robin snatched a rectangular object from her desk and slipped it into a front pocket. “One suspicious noise and I’m calling the cops.” Flashlight in hand, she climbed the stepladder. “Where’s this diary supposed to be?” she called, her voice muffled.
“Because Pam’s right, there’s nothing up here except cobwebs and dust.”
“One of the floorboards is broken,” Margaret said loudly. “Father didn’t want to replace it.”
“Father sounds like a cheapskate,” Pam murmured, followed by, “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. I share the sentiment.” Margaret raised her voice again. “Once you’re in the attic, walk along the southern side. You should spot it near the far end. Lift up the broken bit.” Robin’s feet left the stepladder. Her legs dangled. “Pam, come give me a boost.” Pam snorted. “I’ll try.”
“Allow me,” Jasper said.
“Yes, allow him, Robin. Please.”
Robin sighed. “All right. Just give me a push after I’ve hoisted myself up a little more.” Margaret craned her neck, but Jasper was blocking her view. When he stepped back, Robin was gone and footsteps creaked overhead, moving away from the bedroom. Margaret heard what she thought might be a muffled exclamation, then the footsteps grew louder.
“I’m coming down,” Robin shouted. Suddenly Margaret could see dangling feet. Jasper stepped forward and blocked her view again. She almost didn’t believe her eyes when Robin emerged from the closet, a brown book clutched to her chest. My Lord, they really were in the future!
Pam gasped. “Oh my god, you found it!”
“Don’t get excited yet.” Robin nodded toward Margaret. “Let’s see if she knows what’s in it.”
Margaret inwardly sighed. Would Robin ever be satisfied? Robin started to open the diary, then stopped and glanced behind her. “Um, why don’t you stand with her, so I’ll know you’re not reading over my shoulder and telling her what to say?” Jasper shook his head and walked to Margaret’s side.
“Okay.” Robin held the diary in front of her and lifted the front cover. “I have to admit, it looks old.”
Of course it’s old, it’s been there for a hundred years! Margaret wanted to shout.
Robin turned several yellow-edged pages with care, then shut the diary, flipped it over, and lifted its back cover. “Let me find the last entry,” she murmured. “And why don’t you tell me what the date will be? If you’re telling the truth, you should remember because you practically just wrote it.”
Margaret seethed at the invasion of privacy, but she needed to gain the woman’s trust. And Robin was right. Margaret had written an entry just last night, musing about— Her hand went to her throat and her cheeks burned. Her last entry was all about how she felt about Jasper’s impending proposal! It was supposed to be private! What if Robin read it out loud, or asked her to tell everyone what it said? What if she gave the diary to Jasper?
“Ah, found it. What’s the date?”
“September 18th, 1910,” Margaret said hoarsely.
Robin’s brows rose. “And let’s see what it says.”
Please, read it to yourself! Fortunately Robin did, but Margaret still wanted to die from embarrassment and couldn’t tear her eyes away from Robin’s face. The woman was reading her innermost thoughts—concerns, fears, and opinions that she never would have shared with anyone else. Robin would probably laugh, read Margaret’s words aloud, and berate her.
Margaret tensed when Robin finally raised her head. She forced herself to hold Robin’s gaze, when what she wanted to do was lower her head in shame. How stricken she must look!
“There’s nothing interesting in this entry,” Robin said. “Just stuff you probably wouldn’t remember, even if you’d just written it. I’ll look for a more interesting one.” Almost swaying with relief, Margaret let out her pent breath and silently thanked Robin, who had a heart after all. “Try June 23rd,” she suggested, partly to help and partly to prevent Robin from reading every word in her diary.
“That was the night we went to the theatre,” Jasper said.
“Yes.” He probably remembered because of the long kiss they’d shared in the carriage on the way home, a progression from the usual peck on the lips. Fortunately she hadn’t mentioned it in her entry. If she had, she would have expressed her ongoing bewilderment that Jasper didn’t affect her in ways he should.
Robin paged backward. “June 23rd,” she murmured. “Uh, yeah, you did go to the theatre, but what else can you tell me?”
“That a gentleman sitting near us fell asleep and snored loudly until Jasper shook him awake.” Margaret’s reason for recalling the evening. “And that I thought the actor who played the doctor wasn’t very good.”
Robin lowered the diary and looked at Pam. “That’s what it says.” Pam leaped to her feet and punched a fist into the air. “Yeah! And enough with the tests, Robin. Unless they somehow managed to sneak in here, get into the attic through your closet, and plant the diary—”
“And age it,” Robin said.
“They’re who they say they are—or rather, from where they say they’re from.” Pam’s mouth dropped open and she clutched her hands in front of her chest. “I summoned these people from the past. Incredible!”
Frankly, Margaret didn’t view her circumstances as a cause for celebration or wonder. She held out her hand. “Can I have my diary, please?” As Robin handed it over, she met Margaret’s eyes again. Heat travelled from Margaret’s neck to the top of her head. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
Robin nodded. “So now what?”
“I want to go home,” Margaret said firmly. “We don’t belong here.” Nor did she want to stay here, in her home that was not her home; in a strange world with strange machines; in a future in which women . . . Well, she didn’t know what to make of them. She’d only seen the two, but they were most unladylike—especially Robin.
“I agree with Margaret,” Jasper said. “Send us back.”
Everyone looked at Pam. “Uh—I—you see, the thing is, I don’t know how I brought you here. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened.”
“You said you were reading from that book,” Robin said.
“Yes! Maybe reading the rhyme again will send them back.”
“I doubt it. I think we’re stuck with them.”
Pam frowned. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s worth a try. Oh, but Margaret, first we should put the diary back where we found it. I don’t know what would happen if two copies of your diary ended up in 1910. I suppose it’s possible the entire universe would collapse.” Robin threw her hands into the air. “Great. Maybe I should make a few phone calls, to say good-bye. Then again, I guess there’s no point, if everyone’s about to wink out of existence.”
“Relax, Robin. I know what I’m doing. I watch Star Trek. Everything should be fine if we put the diary back.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Robin said slowly. “But let’s do it. I’ll put it back.” Margaret reluctantly returned the diary to her. It didn’t take long for Jasper to boost Robin into the attic and moments later, she emerged from the closet empty-handed.
“I didn’t memorize the exact position of the diary, so I did the best
I could,” Robin said, shrugging.
“It’ll have to do.” Pam walked toward the doorway and motioned for everyone to follow her.
“Let’s do this.”
“I wasn’t downstairs when it happened,” Robin said. “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but maybe I should be where I was when you . . . summoned them.” Pam grunted. “Good idea.”
About to follow Pam, Margaret turned back toward Robin. “It was a pleasure.”
“Yeah. With luck, we won’t see each other again.”
Margaret certainly hoped so!
Robin shrugged, almost apologetically. “But I think we will.”
“Enough with the pessimism, Robin!” Pam hissed.
“I’m not being pessimistic. It’s just—” She broke off. “It doesn’t matter. Good luck.”
“Good-bye, Robin,” Jasper said.
Already in the hallway, Margaret didn’t hear Robin’s response, if there was one. She couldn’t wait to return to the drawing room so Pam could return them to her drawing room. If Pam failed—Margaret couldn’t bear to consider the end of everything she knew. Except Jasper.
No matter what happened, she’d have him. She glanced over her shoulder. His smile reassured her.
When they reached the drawing room, Pam took charge. “All right, you two stand where you were when you arrived.” She pointed to the appropriate spot and when they were in position, Pam plunked into the chair and snatched up the crystal. “Right, then.” She moved the book onto her lap, opened it, and flipped to a page. “I was reading this rhyme, and I was holding the rose quartz in my left hand.” She looked up at Margaret and Jasper. “Safe travels.”
“It was a pleasure, Pam,” Jasper said.
Margaret echoed him, then wanted to shake her head when Pam’s eyes grew misty.
“Here we go, then.” Pam took a deep breath, then read what sounded like a nonsensical rhyme. Nothing happened. “Oh, last time I read it to myself first. Let me try again.” She was silent for a bit, then recited the rhyme aloud. Margaret wanted to cry out in frustration when they still stood in 2010.
“Robin!” Pam bellowed. “Are you sitting down?”
“Yes,” came the shouted reply.
Pam switched the rose quartz to her other hand. She smiled sheepishly. “One more try.” She lowered her head and, after a moment, said the rhyme again.
Margaret looked at Jasper, knew his resigned and sad eyes matched hers. Everyone—
everything—they knew was gone. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “We still have each other.”
“Yes.” She was grateful it was him, someone she cared for who was around her age.
Footsteps thudded down the stairs. Robin didn’t seem surprised to see them. “Didn’t work, then?”
Pam shook her head. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
Margaret didn’t know at whom the apology was directed. And now what? Were they to start a new life here? How? What was outside the door? Where were they? In her home, or what used to be her home, but where? A lot could change in a hundred years. “Are we still in Toronto, in Canada?”
“What?” Pam said. Then, “Oh, yes, you are. Still Toronto, and still Canada, all ten provinces and three territories.”
Margaret exchanged a glance with Jasper. Not quite the Canada they remembered, but at least they were in the same city and country.
Jasper pursed his lips. “We’ll have to find lodging, though I don’t know if the bills in my billfold are worth anything.”
“Oh my god, you can’t go out looking like that.” Pam stood and tossed the book and crystal onto the chair. “You’ll have to stay here until we figure out what to do.” She thrust her chin out and looked at Robin, perhaps expecting defiance.
“What are we going to do?” Robin asked.
“There has to be a way to send them back. I have to talk to Jake.” Robin’s eyes widened. “You can’t tell him about them! We’ll have every freaking reporter in the world here.”
“I won’t. I’ll be careful.”
“And if we can’t figure out how to send them back?”
Pam swallowed. “Then we’ll have to help them settle here.” Robin’s hands went to her hips. “They don’t even have ID!”
“First things first.” Pam twisted to eye them up and down. “You have somewhere to stay, but you need clothes.”
Margaret frowned down at herself. What was wrong with her dress?
“I’ll have to measure you. And let’s figure out sleeping arrangements.” Jasper pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s only 4:15. Or rather, it was 4:15.” He frowned. “My watch has stopped.”
“Uh, it’s almost nine.” Robin leaned against the doorframe. “In the evening.”
“Oh.”
Pam smiled. “Not jet lag, time travel lag!” Her smile faded. “Doesn’t matter. So, um, are you two together, or do you want separate bedrooms?”
Margaret’s mouth dropped open; the tips of poor Jasper’s ears turned red. “Separate bedrooms!” he sputtered. “How dare you suggest otherwise.” Margaret put her hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Jasper. Perhaps the customs are different now.”
“Still. Margaret and I, we’re not married, we’re . . .” He turned to her.
She answered his unspoken question. “Engaged.”
“Engaged,” he repeated, beaming. “But wait.” He glanced around, then his eyes searched the floor near his feet. “What happened to the ring?”
“What ring?” Pam asked.
“I was proposing when you brought us here. I was holding the ring.” He fumbled in his jacket pockets, then shook his head.
“That’s interesting,” Robin said.
“That they were in the middle of getting engaged when I brought them here?” Pam clapped her hands. “I’ll say.”
“No, that the ring didn’t come with them.”
Margaret suddenly had a vision of Mother rushing into the drawing room, too impatient to wait for Margaret to emerge with the happy news, and finding nothing but the box with the ring lying on the floor.
Robin pushed herself away from the doorframe. “You’ll need something to eat. While Pam sorts you out, I’ll go get a pizza.” She left without waiting for a reply.
A pizza?
“You’ll like it,” Pam said, noticing their puzzled faces. “All right, we only have three beds, so Jasper, take the guest room. You’ll be more comfortable in there. Margaret, take Robin’s room. Robin and I can sleep in my room.”
“Are you sure Robin won’t mind? I don’t want to put her out of her own bedroom.” It would likely antagonize the woman, the last thing Margaret wanted to do.
“She won’t mind.” Pam’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, I’m going to make a wild guess here that the two of you don’t want to sit and eat pizza in your underwear. So . . . we’ll hold off on changing for bed. Jasper, would you mind coming upstairs with me? We’ve been using the guest room as a sort of storage area. Maybe you can help carry some boxes down to the basement.”
“Of course.” His hand brushed Margaret’s elbow as he passed her. “I won’t be long,” he murmured.
And then she was alone. In her house, but not her house; her drawing room, but not her drawing room. The nearby window drew her eye, but she wouldn’t dare lift the window covering, afraid of what she’d see. What would become of her and Jasper? They were nameless, homeless, and penniless, having no choice but to rely on two strange women either to send them home or help them adjust to their new circumstances. How could Pam have unintentionally brought them here? Were she and Robin practitioners of the dark arts, as Jasper had suggested?
Would they gain Margaret and Jasper’s trust, then sacrifice them as they lay sleeping in their beds?Margaret shook herself. She was allowing fanciful thoughts to carry her away rather than facing an unbelievable truth: she and Jasper were now in the year 2010. Their families, friends, hopes, and dreams . . . gone. Dead. All of them, dead. Her eyes welled with tears.
Margaret rubbed furiously at her eyes and kept one shoulder toward the door.
Robin approached, peered at her. “I’d feel overwhelmed, too,” she said softly. Her eyes were kind, not mocking.
“I’m afraid to look out the window,” Margaret admitted, surprising herself. But better for Robin to know about her fear than Jasper. She had to remain strong for him.
“Why don’t you save that for tomorrow, when it’s light? And why don’t you sit down? You can sit down in that dress?”
Robin’s absurd question brightened Margaret’s mood. A giggle escaped her throat. “Of course I can sit down!” Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that such a question had come from a woman who looked like a ruffian. “Don’t women wear dresses anymore?” Robin snorted. “I don’t. Wouldn’t be caught dead in one. But most women do. Not all the time, though. Sometimes.”
“Oh.” She had much to learn about 2010 women. Robin had shorter hair than some of the men Margaret knew. What about the men? Did they dress like women now and grow their hair long?
“Anyway, I forgot to ask what you and Jasper like to eat. I can choose what to put on the pizza. Ham, bacon, green pepper, mushrooms—”
Margaret didn’t care; she wasn’t hungry. “Anything. It doesn’t matter.” Robin shrugged. “Okay. I’ll go get dinner.” She strode from the room.
Margaret chided herself. Where were her manners? Just because she’d been hurled into the future didn’t mean she could behave like a lout. She should have thanked Robin, for her concern and for considering their basic needs. Because they were children here, incapable of taking care of themselves. Suddenly Margaret pinched the back of her hand, dug in her fingernails until the skin turned an angry red and droplets of blood formed. She looked around the room. No, she wasn’t in her bed, dreaming. She was still here, in 2010.
Chapter Three
Robin lowered her e-reader when Pam came into the bedroom. “They all tucked in?” Pam nodded. “I’ve stored Margaret’s dress in your closet, so be careful with it.” Robin’s brows shot up. “What do you think I’ll do? Wear it?” She smiled at Pam’s answering grin. “What are they sleeping in?”
Threaded Through Time, Book One Page 3
