Threaded Through Time, Book One

by Sarah Ettritch

  “Why?”

  “Because I told her that investments aren’t my passion. She encouraged me to do what I really wanted to do.”

  “Which is?” Pam blurted when it looked as if Jasper wasn’t going to tell her.

  “Carpentry. More specifically, cabinetmaking.”

  His answer failed to surprise her. “Then do that! You did a beautiful job on our chairs, and the doorframe.”

  “I can’t. Father would be incensed if I backed out of the family business to be a lowly tradesman.”

  Father sounded like a bastard who had his son desperate for his approval. Jasper wasn’t the first man she’d met who wanted to please daddy; it certainly wasn’t a condition limited to early twentieth century men.

  “Emily said the money, my position in society—it didn’t matter to her.” Okay, maybe Pam liked her a teensy little bit.

  “I told her I would be satisfied working with my father, especially if she was my wife. I would have married her. I would have waited. But . . .” He blinked rapidly.

  “But what?” Pam asked quietly, wanting to reach out and comfort him.

  “Father told me to get rid of her. I told him I wanted to marry her, but he said she wouldn’t make a suitable wife. He spoke to her father, told him we were . . .” he shifted in his chair “ . . .

  having carnal relations.”

  Carnal relations? Pam coughed into her hand, then cleared her throat. “Of course, you weren’t.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “You were!” Maybe Margaret was pregnant. “You and Margaret, are you, um—” Jasper’s eyes widened. “No! Absolutely not. Margaret will be my wife.”

  “You wanted to marry Emily, but that didn’t stop you,” Pam pointed out.

  “We loved each other. I don’t regret a second we had together, but we were reckless. I didn’t consider her reputation. I should have. We were discreet, but foolish.” No wonder he didn’t want Margaret’s stay in 2010 to tarnish her. “How did your father find out?”

  “He didn’t. He said whatever he thought it would take for Emily’s father to put an end to our relationship. It worked. She transferred to a university in the United States.”

  “When did all this happen?”

  “When I was twenty-four.”

  “And Margaret doesn’t know?”

  He shook his head. “And she will never know.”

  Message received, not that Pam would have said anything. “Has there been anyone since then—apart from Margaret?”

  “A few dalliances here and there.” Jasper’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Last year, Father left a newspaper clipping near my breakfast plate. Emily married an American.” The muscle near his right eye jumped.

  “I’m sorry.” This time Pam patted his hand, and refrained from asking if he’d thought of going after Emily when she’d left for the States. Defying daddy would have been beyond him, so why twist the knife of regret deeper?

  “A couple of weeks later, Father had a talk with me. Said it was time to settle down, that I was almost thirty. He suggested several suitable women, Margaret among them. I eventually met them all. I liked Margaret the most.”

  Cripes, it sounded like an episode of that silly reality TV show in which a bachelor chose who to marry.

  “I know you probably think badly of me, but I am fond of Margaret, and I’ll take good care of her. What I’m doing isn’t unusual, especially for a man in my position. And Margaret belongs to a respectable middle class family. I doubt love was her primary concern when she considered who would make a suitable husband.”

  Apparently not. “I don’t think badly of you, Jasper. I’m sad for you. Your father’s approval, your position . . . money. It isn’t everything. Don’t you want to be happy?”

  “I will be happy.”

  “No, really happy. Fulfilled—work you enjoy, and a wife you love, truly love, with passion.

  The universe wants you to be happy. It doesn’t want you to settle.” And so she wouldn’t, no matter how many jerks she had to go through before she met Mr. Right.

  Jasper gazed at her. “You sound like you believe that.”

  “I do.”

  “Are you happy, Pam?”

  His question caught her off guard. “Well, yes, for the most part. I admit, I’d be happier with a man in my life. If I didn’t have Robin, I’d be lonely. But I haven’t settled for someone I don’t love just so I won’t be alone when Robin moves out. I’d rather be lonely than settle.”

  “But you want to marry.”

  “Oh, yes. Definitely.”

  Jasper grunted. “Robin’s a queer woman, isn’t she?”

  Shock made her voice shrill. “What makes you say that?” Wait. “Oh, you mean odd.” When he nodded, her heart stopped pounding.

  “She’s not . . . feminine,” Jasper said.

  “Why, because she wears her hair short and prefers pants to dresses? That’s not unusual today, Jasper. Okay, she doesn’t wear makeup or jewelry either, but so what? She’s her own person.”

  “I didn’t mean to criticize her,” Jasper said, motioning for Pam to calm down.

  “Then don’t judge her by how she looks!” Pam took a deep breath, reminded herself that she was sitting with someone from another time. “Listen, I can see how she might seem unusual to you. But I love her to bits. I know we’re not blood-related, but she’s family, the only family I’ve got. I’d do anything for her, and I know she’d do the same for me. So I can get a little defensive about her.”

  “I apologize. Robin is a most gracious host. And so are you.” Flattery would get him everywhere. “Apology accepted.”

  “Do you think she’ll marry?”

  “I hope she does.” Robin would probably marry before Pam did—if she stopped worrying about her useless family and started living for herself. Jasper’s lost love, his future tepid marriage to Margaret, Robin eventually meeting a nice woman and moving out . . . what a depressing conversation! “But enough chit-chat. Let’s shoot some pool. Or are you afraid of losing?”

  He snorted and pushed back his chair.

  Pam’s phone rang. She lifted it from her purse and glanced at the display. “I should take this. Hi,” she said to Brenda, a co-worker and drinking buddy. “What’s up? Did something happen at the office today?”

  “No, I’m calling about my party. I need to know how many are coming. You said you’d let me know by today.”

  “Oh, right.” Damn, she’d forgotten about the party. Jasper and Margaret would still be here; it was on October 16th, the weekend before she’d be trying to send them back. If she didn’t attend, she’d miss too much gossip and appear antisocial, especially since she’d skipped Sue’s party last month. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  “Great! Will you be bringing someone?”

  She eyed Jasper, and ignored the rational voice that always insisted on butting in at times like this. “Yes,” she said, “I probably will.”

  *****

  Margaret raised her hand to pull a pin from her hair, then stopped when someone knocked at the closed bedroom door. “Margaret, are you decent?” Pam bellowed.

  Of course she was decent! What kind of question was that?

  “Margaret? Can I come in?”

  “Just a minute.” She glanced at the dresser to make sure Robin had hidden all the wool in its bottom drawer. Pam couldn’t know about the wool until Robin had told her about their outing.

  “Yes, come in.”

  The door swung open. Pam stepped into the room. “Oh good, I’m glad I caught you before you went to bed. Did you enjoy your day today?”

  “Very much.” What did Pam want? She hadn’t stepped foot in the bedroom since she’d helped Margaret the evening they’d arrived. “I gather you and Jasper also had an enjoyable day.” Upon their return home, Margaret had shared a coffee with them and listened to their spirited banter about their golf game and billiard matches. They’d included her in the conversation, but she’d felt like the odd one out. Co
nstantly wondering what Robin was doing hadn’t helped.

  “Yes, we did.” Pam’s smile was fixed. She shifted her weight. “Um, I want to ask you something. A favour. And don’t feel you have to agree to it.”

  “All right,” Margaret said, her curiosity piqued.

  “You see, one of my work colleagues is having a party in a couple of weeks. I missed the last one, so I don’t want to miss this one, too. It would be nice if I didn’t have to go alone, because everyone else will be there with someone. I was wondering if . . . well, I thought it might make sense if . . .”

  “You want Jasper to escort you.”

  Pam nodded. “But only if you agree.”

  Why was Pam asking for permission now? She hadn’t asked for permission to spend today with him, or to monopolize his time every evening. Perhaps the difference was that their attendance at the party would be more like a date.

  She should refuse Pam’s request. She’d seen the way Jasper and Pam looked at each other, had sensed the attraction between them. If they were all in 1910, she’d worry that Jasper might call off their engagement. But if they were all in 1910, he never would have met Pam, and even if he had, they wouldn’t be spending so much time together. They certainly wouldn’t be living under the same roof! “Have you spoken to him about it?”

  “Not yet. I thought I’d ask you first. There’s no point asking him if you don’t want him to go with me.”

  Did she have a choice? Pam said she wasn’t obliged to agree, but she was living in the woman’s house, eating the woman’s food, and wearing clothes the woman had bought for her.

  Refusing her could cause tension between them. Margaret didn’t want that, not when they still had to live together.

  “And if you agree, I’ll have to talk to Robin, see if she’ll be around that night.” As much as she wanted to, Margaret couldn’t deny that she’d look forward to an evening alone with Robin. What was wrong with her? Could whatever was affecting her also be affecting Jasper? Was that why he was attracted to Pam? If Robin was a man, would Margaret be stepping out with him right under Jasper’s nose? She shook herself and tried to focus on Pam’s request.

  “Are you sure it will be prudent to take Jasper with you? I assume he’ll have to converse with the other guests.”

  “Yes, but what’s the worst that can happen? They might think he’s a little strange, but nobody’s going to think, ‘Oh my, he must be from 1910.’” No, she supposed not.

  “I’ll be at his side all evening.”

  Of that, Margaret had no doubt. Oh, what harm would one evening do? She and Jasper would return to 1910 and their time here would feel as if it had been a dream. “Then I agree.

  When you speak to Jasper about it, please tell him that I don’t mind.” If he asked.

  Pam’s face lit up. “Thank you, Margaret. I’ll take good care of him and have him back before he turns into a pumpkin, I promise. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  The door clicked shut. Troubled, Margaret sank onto the edge of the bed. She should be jealous of Pam, but she wasn’t. She should be furious with Jasper if he readily agreed to escort Pam, but she wouldn’t be. She shouldn’t hope that Robin would be free and that they’d pass the evening of the party together, but she did.

  Pam would send them home on October 23rd, and it couldn’t come fast enough. If they didn’t return . . . Margaret couldn’t bear to consider the consequences! She wanted everything back to normal again, including herself. That rhyme had better work.

  Chapter Seven

  Pam tossed her last card onto the pile, whooped, and thrust her fist into the air. “I win!” Jasper added the remaining cards in his hand to the pile, facedown. “Good game.”

  “Yes, good game,” Margaret murmured, hoping they wouldn’t want to play again. Aware of Robin upstairs, she couldn’t focus. Her mind was too busy trying to come up with an excuse to speak to Robin, but at the same time, Margaret didn’t want to disturb her. Perhaps a quick question was the answer? She’d knitted that afternoon, while Pam was at work, and would like to do so this evening, especially since Pam had already suggested a movie. Robin must have told Pam about the wool and their outing by now—she’d had ample opportunity—but it wouldn’t hurt to check with her to make sure. If Margaret were to start a sweater, she’d also need an idea of Robin’s size.

  “So, movie?” Pam said cheerfully.

  Jasper nodded. “How many movies do you have?”

  “Enough that you won’t see them all before you go back.” Margaret stifled a snort. How disappointing!

  “You watching with us tonight, Margaret?” Pam asked.

  “No, thank you.” She knew she wouldn’t be missed.

  Pam pushed herself up from the table. “I’ll put the coffee on, then we’ll choose a movie,” she said to Jasper.

  Margaret helped Jasper collect the cards, then gathered her courage and went upstairs. Oh, the study door was ajar, not open. Robin probably didn’t want to be interrupted, but the compulsion to see her was too strong for Margaret to resist, and she only wanted to ask a simple question. She tapped at the door.

  “Come in,” Robin called.

  Margaret pushed the door open. “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you, but I was wondering if you’ve told Pam about Friday. I’d like to knit tonight, if I can.” Robin dragged what appeared to be a thick pen across a line in the book she was reading, colouring the line yellow. She looked up. “Sorry, I should have mentioned it to you. Yes, I told her.” Her mouth turned up at the corners. “She wasn’t exactly happy about it, but what could she say, given that she’d spent almost the entire day out with Jasper? So go ahead and knit. She won’t ask you where the wool came from.”

  “Thank you.” Margaret hovered, reluctant to leave. Oh . . . “I want to start knitting your sweater, but I don’t know what size you are. Can I show you the pattern? It lists all the measurements.”

  “Sure. And you can always measure me.”

  Her breath quickened. “Let’s try the pattern first,” she said faintly. “I’ll fetch it.” Were her cheeks as red as they felt? The thought of wrapping a measuring tape around Robin had her all aflutter! She hurried into the bedroom, snatched the pattern from Robin’s desk, and returned to the study.

  Robin took it from her and studied it. “I remember this one, it’s the last one we printed.” On Friday night, they’d sat in front of Robin’s computer, searching for and printing out patterns. Margaret had marvelled at how one could instantly obtain patterns, just like that! “You said you like it,” she reminded Robin.

  “I do. And . . . I’m a medium.”

  “Medium,” Margaret repeated, disappointed that she wouldn’t need the measuring tape, but certain it was for the best.

  Robin handed back the pattern. “Are you sure you want to knit me a sweater? You don’t have to.”

  “I’d like to, very much.”

  “Then, thank you.” Robin touched Margaret’s arm.

  Margaret swallowed. “It will be my pleasure.” She didn’t want to leave. “Would you like a cup of tea?” At least that would give her a reason to come up and see Robin again.

  “I’d love one. But only if you’re having one, as well. In fact, why don’t you have your tea with me up here? I could use a break.” Robin cupped her hand around her ear. “And is that a movie I hear starting downstairs?”

  She didn’t need to be asked twice! “I would like to have tea with you, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.”

  Robin shook her head. “Like I said, I need a break. By the time you’ve made the tea, I’ll have finished this chapter.”

  “I’ll go put the kettle on, then.” Now eager to leave before Robin changed her mind, Margaret returned the pattern to the bedroom and went down to the kitchen.

  The sensations she felt around Robin were most pleasant . . . and wrong. Now she understood why her friends swooned, yearned to see their suitors, and struggled to retain their innocence. But the
ir feelings were normal. Hers weren’t. If she could feel half as drawn to Jasper as she was to Robin, their marriage would be filled with passion. Perhaps returning to 1910

  would redirect her attraction to him, where it belonged.

  For now, she should avoid Robin, not indulge the . . . longing for her. But it was as if someone had cast a spell over Margaret, making it impossible to resist her desire. And so here she was, willing the kettle to boil so she could make the tea and hurry back upstairs. She must be careful to never let a hint of her feelings for Robin show. If Robin even suspected, she and Pam would throw Margaret out onto the street, and deservedly so. The most generous of hosts would refuse to harbour a deviant.

  *****

  Margaret rested her knitting on her lap and glanced at the time on the machine Pam used to play her movies. 10:45. Would Robin be home soon from the late dinner with her father? Margaret had missed their nightly ritual this evening. The tea she’d taken up to Robin last week had been the first of many. She’d easily fallen into the habit of sipping tea with her for fifteen or twenty minutes, then settling into the comfy armchair in the study and knitting while Robin worked.

  Tonight she’d knit in the study alone, only coming downstairs when Jasper and Pam had retired.

  She should be in bed too, but knew she wouldn’t sleep until Robin was home. Her feelings were a curse! Yet she couldn’t resist them.

  She picked up her knitting, then froze when a key turned in the front door lock and the door opened and closed. Margaret expected Robin to come into the living room when she saw the light on, but Robin strode past the living room archway and down the hallway, still wearing her jacket. She didn’t go upstairs, though; it sounded as if she’d gone into the kitchen.

  Margaret dithered over what to do—whether to remain in the living room and hope Robin noticed the light when she left the kitchen, or go into the kitchen under the pretense of wanting a glass of water. No, she wouldn’t force her company on Robin. There was always tomorrow. But when Robin was still in the kitchen ten minutes later and the house sounded completely silent, Margaret’s curiosity got the better of her. She left her knitting on the coffee table and went to the kitchen. Odd, the kitchen light wasn’t on. Had Robin quietly gone to bed?