by Kit Pearson
“You don’t have to decide right this minute, darling. Don’t look so desolate! I’ll stay here until the end of the month and we can discuss it as often as you want. But then you’ll have to make up your mind so we can begin all the arrangements. Do you have any questions?”
“If I—if I did live with Daddy and Johanna, what would happen at the end of the year?”
“We’ll see how you feel then. You could stay with them or come back to me—whatever you wished. We both … love you, but we’re rational people, Patricia, and we’re going to be sensible about this. You’re old enough to make up your own mind.”
Patricia recalled her mother saying that when she was eight and was asked to choose between staying in her old school or switching to The Learning Place. She hadn’t felt old enough then and she didn’t now. They had always left important questions up to her, while the trivial ones— what to wear and what activities to participate in—were controlled by her mother. It would be so much easier the other way around.
When she had changed schools she had decided what she guessed her mother wanted. Now it was hard to tell. She yearned for her mother to say that of course she should stay with her. But if she wouldn’t say it, she must not want it.
“Here’s a letter from your father,” her mother continued. “Read what he has to say and that may help you decide. I’ll leave you alone for a while, darling. I suppose this must be a bit of a shock.” Patting Patricia’s shoulder awkwardly she left the cabin.
“Dear Patricia,” her father had typed on his word processor. “Naturally Johanna and I would like to have you live with us this year. It’s up to you to make the choice, however, and we don’t want to pressure you in any way …” The letter continued in the same apologetic way.
Patricia sighed. Neither of her parents was going to come right out and say they wanted her.
She tried to think it out as reasonably as they suggested. In many ways she would be happier with her father, since she had always felt closer to him. But there was Johanna. Wouldn’t she be in the way, just when the two of them were finally able to be together? And she had never particularly cared for her life in Toronto. A new one in a new country though, would be scary.
She knew she couldn’t truly decide. As usual, she didn’t know what she wanted. She would just have to pretend to make a choice. It was a question of whom she would bother the least—probably Daddy. Her mother would feel much less encumbered in her new job without a daughter to worry about.
“I’ll live with Daddy and Johanna,” Patricia told her mother that night. “He said they didn’t mind.”
“Of course they don’t mind, darling! But are you sure you’re ready to decide right now?”
Patricia nodded, trying to gauge her mother’s reaction. But all she did was turn her back as she pulled off her clothes and got into her nightgown. She didn’t speak again until she turned out the light, and then her voice was chilly.
“It’s a very sensible decision, darling, and I’m proud of you for making it yourself. Tomorrow we can phone your father from the store and tell him.”
They lay in the darkness and listened to the rustle of the aspen leaves outside.
“I’ve never liked this cabin,” complained Patricia’s mother after a few minutes. “It’s so small and suffocating.”
Patricia didn’t answer; she was trying her best not to let her mother hear her cry.
17
When Patricia told Kelly, her cousin agreed with her decision. “Of course, I don’t know your father, but you wouldn’t want to leave Canada, would you? England’s awfully far away.”
Patricia was surprised; she would never have guessed that Kelly would express caution about anything. Perhaps being so contentedly rooted in her family made her a bit complacent.
“It’s not because I would mind going to England,” she explained, realizing that was true. After all, she had come here from across the country—and had travelled to an even farther place through the watch—and she had survived both.
Kelly clutched Patricia’s arm possessively. “I wish you didn’t have to go at all! I wish you could live with us! I asked Mum, but she said we couldn’t interfere.”
For the next few days Aunt Ginnie looked grim, as if she wanted to say something to her older sister but didn’t dare. “It’s not right,” Patricia heard her whisper to Aunt Karen. “Girls belong with their mothers.”
“But if Patricia chose her father …”
I didn’t choose anyone, thought Patricia listlessly. They forced me to make a decision, that’s all.
In a way, it was a relief to have it all out in the open. Patricia’s mother chatted easily about London and her husband and sometimes even Johanna’s name was mentioned, establishing her as a fact.
Her mother politely took part in the swimming and picnicking and once paddled the Loon with a bored efficiency. Each evening she hunched over one of the old puzzles Trevor had set up on the verandah. Watching her gave Patricia a glimpse of Ruth.
But her mother also seemed restless. She drove into town every day to pick up the Toronto newspaper, and once she even complained because there was no TV in the cottage.
“I really shouldn’t be staying away this long,” she confided to Patricia. “There are so many things I have to wind up before I go.”
Patricia hated it every time she mentioned leaving. She never once expressed regret that her daughter wasn’t going with her.
On the phone Patricia’s father had told her shyly how delighted they were that she would be living with them. That made her feel a bit better. But he had sold his share of the house to Patricia’s mother and bought a townhouse with Johanna. The thought of moving was unsettling.
“What will happen to our—to your—house?” she asked her mother.
“I’ll rent it … a couple at work are interested in it. But it’s still your house too, darling. Don’t forget that.”
It didn’t seem so anymore.
SUNDAY WAS THE ANNUAL Sports Day at the lake. In the morning the Grants watched the last sailboat race of the season from the Donaldsons’ deck.
“Next year can we get a sailboat?” Kelly asked her father.
“Probably. I hate to say yes when you were so disappointed this year. But I think I could say almost, absolutely, positively—”
“Hurray!” Kelly wrapped him in a vigorous hug.
“Patricia can come back and crew with me, can’t you?” Next summer was much too far away for Patricia to imagine. Next month alone was going to be agony to get through.
All afternoon there were events at the Main Beach. Children and dogs thronged the wide pier as someone with a megaphone announced each competition. The people who ran the store sold pop and ice cream from a cooler and several families brought picnics.
Patricia ran in a three-legged race with Christie. It was hard enough to run with one leg anchored to her cousin’s, but the race took place in the water, which made it even more difficult. Then she squashed between her cousins in the Loon as four of them formed a team in the canoe race. “Pull … pull … pull!” ordered Kelly, yelling so loud that she lost her voice. There were different kinds of swimming races, a Tug of War and a watermelon-eating contest, but the only member of the family who won a ribbon was Peggy, in the Dog Paddle. In the midst of it all, Patricia tried her best to enjoy herself, to forget that her new life was about to begin.
“Your swimming has really improved, darling,” Patricia’s mother told her when she came in from the water to rest. “Don’t you find the water awfully weedy though? I don’t remember the lake being this full of them.”
“It wasn’t. It used to be much cleaner and colder,” said Patricia without thinking. “Uncle Rod told me that,” she added hastily.
“I wonder how long this is going to last,” her mother complained. She was causing quite a stir; people who knew her from TV stared curiously and others came up and asked if she remembered them from earlier summers.
Aunt Ginnie
was helping an old woman arrange her lawn chair on the sand. “This is Mrs. Thorpe,” she told Patricia. “A friend of Nan’s.”
Patricia shook the woman’s hand curiously. She must be Barbara and Winnie and Paul’s mother; some of the Other Enders were their children. She wondered if Mrs. Thorpe was still a light sleeper.
THE DAY AFTER Sports Day there was a terrific storm. They all sat on the lawn before dinner and watched it approach. On their side of the lake it was still sunny and still. On the other side, dark grey clouds collected and lightning flickered. The boom of thunder became louder as the water darkened and rippled towards them.
“Get ready to pick up a chair and run!” laughed Aunt Ginnie. In a few minutes the sun disappeared, trees began swaying and huge drops of cold rain fell.
“Just in time!” panted Kelly, slamming the screen door after the last person had scuttled inside.
Rain poured down as if someone had turned on a tap. “Just what the farmers need,” said Uncle Doug. “It’s been such a dry summer.”
Patricia jumped at the sound of a deafening peal of thunder. She stood at the window with the rest of the family and watched in awe as lightning split the huge sky.
“Quite a spectacle, isn’t it, Patricia?” said her uncle. “There’s nothing like a prairie thunderstorm for fire-works.”
Patricia nodded, but the violence of the thunder made her jump every time. She was relieved when the storm finally settled into a steady drumming of rain on the roof.
Trevor put out Snakes and Ladders, Maggie’s favourite game, on the verandah floor. They played it enough to satisfy her, and then went on to Clue. After dinner they joined the adults in a game of Trivial Pursuit in the living room. The fire crackled cheerfully as they took a break for second helpings of saskatoon pie.
Patricia spooned up the purple juice greedily. She and her cousins had spent all morning picking the dusty blue berries and the delicious result was worth it.
They finished the game. Patricia and her mother won, but it was her mother, not she, who knew all the answers.
Aunt Ginnie was observing her sister thoughtfully. Then she took down the photograph from the mantel. “Do you remember this, Ruth? How funny we all looked!”
Patricia’s mother took the picture and glanced at it briefly. “No, I don’t,” she said. “Why were we dressed like that?”
“It was a costume party. In those days, people at the lake got together more often, not just once a summer for Sports Day. But surely you remember—you were about Patricia’s age. Even I can remember dressing up in Gordon’s clothes and feeling so important because I was allowed to go. But I ate too much and got sick. And wasn’t that the night poor Mama lost her watch? She’s often told me how she searched for days—”
“I don’t remember it,” interrupted Patricia’s mother crisply. She handed the picture back.
Aunt Ginnie looked hurt and there was an awkward silence. Then her sister said abruptly, “I’ve decided to change my plans. Since Patricia has already chosen what she wants to do, there’s no need for us to stay here another week. Mother is insisting that we visit her in Calgary. We could get a connecting flight and just go for a day. We’ll leave tomorrow. Can you drive us into the city in the afternoon, Doug?”
“Tomorrow! But you can’t!”
Everyone protested, but Patricia’s mother was firm. “Can you, Doug?” she kept asking and he finally had to consent.
“And now, if you’ll all excuse me”—she smiled charmingly at them—“I have a headache. I think I’ll go to bed.”
After she left, Patricia’s cousins surrounded her. “Mum, she can’t go!” said Kelly, almost in tears. “It’s not fair, she was supposed to stay until the end of the summer.”
Maggie flung her long arms around Patricia’s neck. “Don’t leave, Patty!” she begged.
“There’s nothing I can do,” Aunt Ginnie told them. She pressed her lips together tightly. “It’s up to her mother. Patricia, dear, you know we want you to come back next summer, don’t you? I’m sure your father will let you.”
Uncle Doug ruffled her hair and Peggy licked her hand. Patricia tried to smile at them all. “I think I’ll go to bed, too,” she said softly.
All the way out to La Petite she shook with fury, not noticing that she’d forgotten her jacket and was getting soaked. She kicked open the door and stomped in.
Her mother, sitting in bed with a book, looked up and frowned. “Don’t bang it, darling.”
Patricia marched over to the bed. Her anger rushed out of her like the torrent of rain that had descended earlier. Its power didn’t surprise her as much as it had with Nan.
“How can you decide we have to leave so suddenly?” she shouted. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your summers at the lake? Why do you have to keep pretending you don’t remember anything and hurt Aunt Ginnie’s feelings? I don’t want to leave! And Aunt Ginnie said I could come back. I wish I lived with them all the time! At least they want me, n-not like you …” She stopped to get her breath.
Patricia’s mother looked astonished. “Darling …” she began.
“Don’t call me that!” raged Patricia. “I hate it! I always have! You say darling because you don’t know me— because you don’t c-care about me and you don’t want me to live with you.” Then all she could do was to gulp down ugly sobs.
“Patricia,” whispered her mother. Tears welled up in her beautiful eyes—eyes that looked young without makeup. Then she was weeping, too. Patricia was so shocked, her own tears subsided. She had never seen her mother cry.
Except once, on a miserable night after she had been unfairly scolded for raiding the camp. That sobbing girl and this woman were the same person. The Ruth in the past hadn’t vanished at all. She was inside this person who wailed like a child, saying in a beseeching voice between gulps, “Oh, Patricia, Patricia …”
“Mum.” Patricia sat down weakly on her mother’s bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.”
“No, dar—Patricia. I’m sorry You’re right to be angry with me.” Ruth blew her nose and handed a kleenex to Patricia. “But you’re wrong, too. I do want you. I do care about you. I was longing for you to say you’d come with me, but it didn’t seem fair to ask. And when you made your decision, I thought you didn’t want me. Oh, Patricia, will you come to London? If you don’t, I’ll miss you so much I don’t think I could bear it?”
Patricia’s chest expanded with lightness. “Do you—do you really want me?”
“Of course I want you! You’re my daughter. I love you. I guess I haven’t let you know that enough. I’ve never known how to be a good mother, Patricia, but can we be friends?”
Patricia gazed at Ruth with brimming eyes. She had wanted so much to be friends with her in the past. She had wanted so much to comfort her. Now she could.
She nodded so hard her tears scattered onto the bed. “Okay. And I will come with you. Daddy won’t mind. They need to be by themselves right now, anyhow. And I never did like The Learning Place. I think I’m too ordinary for it.”
“Ordinary!” Ruth pulled her daughter onto her lap. “You’re the most special person in the world.”
After more tears and more hugs, they began to talk about London.
18
Then Patricia decided to show Ruth the watch. They had three days left at the lake. Ruth had compromised, and Patricia didn’t mind so much now about leaving early. They were going to spend the weekend with Nan in Calgary, and it was this which made up Patricia’s mind. She finally had to do something about the watch. Ruth could help her decide what.
She knew she could never tell her everything. Not about how she had visited the past and watched her then. No one would believe that.
She was going to have to confess that she’d concealed the watch all summer. It filled her with guilt again, but she reminded herself that Ruth was just as much to blame.
The next afternoon the family decided to drive into town. “Can we stay here?” Patricia as
ked her mother. “There’s something I have to show you.”
Ruth waited in the rocking chair while Patricia trudged down the attic stairs, the watch a cold handful of metal in her palm.
“Here?” She poured the watch and chain into Ruth’s lap.
Her mother gasped. “Where on earth did you get this, Patricia?”
“I—I found it in La Petite in July. It was under the floorboards,” she continued, as if Ruth didn’t know. “Uncle Doug had ripped up the old linoleum. I know I should have shown it to someone, but I—I kind of liked it … so I kept it in the attic. But it must be the watch Nan lost, so I’d better give it back. Do you think she’ll be angry?”
Ruth didn’t speak for a moment. She ran her fingers up and down the chain in wonder. “I can’t say—I just can’t say how glad I am that you found this, Patricia,” she murmured finally. “I think I’d better tell you something about it and then you won’t worry about Nan.”
Patricia waited, her former awe of her mother returning. Now she was going to admit how she’d deliberately kept the watch from Nan.
“When I was your age,” her mother began, her voice shaky, “I had a very bad summer here. I felt picked on and alienated from everyone in the family—especially from my mother. She tried to force me to be something I wasn’t—a ‘nice young lady’ who would make a good marriage. She wouldn’t accept me as I was.” Ruth paused and looked into Patricia’s eyes. “I guess I’ve done the same with you … not seen who you really are.” She looked down for a minute, then went on. “Anyway, the night of that costume party—which I do remember in every detail—” she added sheepishly, “I found the watch on the road soon after Mother had lost it. La Petite had just been built the summer before and the floor was only bare boards. I pried one up and hid the watch under it. It was a shameful thing to do, and I’ve always felt terribly guilty about it. For that and other reasons my relationship with Mother got worse and worse. I decided to leave home as soon as I could. When I won a scholarship to the University of Toronto they couldn’t stop me, though Father certainly tried.”
