Threaded through time bo.., p.20
Threaded Through Time, Book Two, page 20
part #2 of Threaded Through Time Series
Margaret could feel Robin’s tension as they approached the spot marked on the map they’d obtained from the cemetery’s office. If not for the flowers she cradled in her arms, she’d slip her arm through Robin’s in the hope of calming her, though the gesture probably wouldn’t do much good. Shock had jolted Margaret when she’d come upon the family plot in Toronto and read the names of those she’d lived with a mere eight months ago. Worn lettering on dull tombstones had marked the graves as old, but her memories were fresh. Mother’s voice murmured in her ears, Father’s pipe smoke crept up her nose, and Hubert’s pranks brought a smile to her lips. She even missed Daniel, who, in recent years, had been too busy working and dating to bother with his younger sister. In recent years. Not according to the dates on those tombstones. “There it is,” she said, spotting the Bainbridge plot.
Robin stopped walking.
Margaret turned around. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to . . .”
“No, we came here to do this.” Robin took a deep breath, then marched up to the large stone with BAINBRIDGE chiselled across its top. Her shoulders stiffened; she put her hands on her hips.
Margaret waited a moment, then stepped to her side and read the stone:
BAINBRIDGE
In loving memory of
JASPER BAINBRIDGE
Born February 23, 1880
Died March 18, 1960
His wife MARGARET “PAM” WILTON
Born May 12, 1887
Died August 22, 1972
Their daughter CATHERINE JUNE BAINBRIDGE
Born November 2, 1913
Died January 27, 1982
Margaret swallowed the lump in her throat, then glanced at Robin to make sure she was all right, and winced at her pale face. “Do you want to lay the flowers?”
Robin nodded, lifted them from Margaret’s arms, and crouched down to place them at the foot of the tombstone. When she didn’t straighten, Margaret crouched next to her and slipped her arm around Robin’s shoulders.
“They called her Pam,” Robin murmured; Margaret could hear the tears in her voice. “I wonder how that happened. And why is only one daughter with them?”
“She didn’t marry, remember?” Margaret looked beyond the main stone. “Some of the others are here, too.”
“It doesn’t seem right. She—” Robin’s voice choked off.
“She led a full life, Robin,” Margaret said softly. “In that photograph I found, Pam was surrounded by family. She was smiling, she looked happy. She was all right.” Her words weren’t making any difference; Robin’s shoulders still shook and tears still flowed. “She wanted to be with Jasper. She named a son after you. She gave one of her daughters my name as a middle name. She didn’t begrudge us this, our life together. She wanted us to have it.”
Robin nodded and wiped her eyes.
“She lived the life she wanted, and she expected us to do the same.”
“I know. I just wish we could have all lived our lives together. I never got to say thank you, or good-bye.”
Margaret had no words of comfort to offer, since she felt the same way. At the cemetery in Toronto, Robin had asked if she wanted to find her family’s descendants. She didn’t. She’d never contact them, because they’d never feel like family. Her family was in the past. She didn’t regret leaving them; after Robin, she would have been miserable in 1910. But oh, how she wished she had known that the rhyme would send her back into the future that night. She would have told her family and friends that she loved them, made her peace over any perceived slights and forgiven those who’d committed them, thanked her parents for loving and raising her, and left behind some explanation for her sudden disappearance, perhaps given a letter to Jasper to pass along. But there wasn’t any point wishing for something she could never have and allowing it to overshadow the rest of her life. That wouldn’t be honouring Pam’s incredible gift.
Margaret’s eyes settled on Jasper’s name on the tomb. He deserved some credit too, for marrying Pam as Margaret Wilton, and for not using the book. “We’ll never need a reason to think of them, because we always will, but perhaps we should choose one day each year on which we do something in memory of them.”
“Another new tradition?” Robin was silent for a moment. “I’d like that.” She straightened; Margaret followed her lead. “Who else is here?” Robin murmured. Hand-in-hand, they read the nearby tombstones, all Bainbridges except for one.
“Doris June Pembleton,” Margaret read, puzzled. “I wonder why she’s buried in the Bainbridge plot?”
“Maybe another child?” Robin suggested.
“No, look at the birth date.” The name Pembleton rang a bell, but Margaret couldn’t remember where she’d heard it.
Robin pointed. “Hers has an epitaph: Cherished friend, Bainbridge aunt, trusted physician.”
According to the death date, she’d died four years before Pam. “We’ll have to research her,” Margaret said. “We could do more research on Pam’s descendants, too.”
Robin shook her head. “I don’t want to know. If I were to run into them, I wouldn’t know what to say.” She swallowed. “Let her rest in peace.”
Robin returned to the main tombstone and crouched in front of it again. Margaret kept a respectful distance as Robin rested her hand on the top of the stone and closed her eyes. Robin wasn’t religious, but whatever was behind the gesture, she seemed to draw comfort from it. She opened her eyes, stood, and held out her hand. “Come on, Mrs. Tillman. It’s time to get on with the life Pam’s given us.”
“Just a moment,” Margaret said as she slipped her hand into Robin’s. She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and thanked Pam for giving her the opportunity to live in honesty and to love the one she wanted. Pam and Jasper would live on in her, in Robin, in their love for each other. They would cherish Pam’s gift until they, too, breathed their last. Thank you.
They walked from the Bainbridge plot, neither having to speak to know that they’d never visit it again. They carried Pam and Jasper in their hearts.
Outside the cemetery’s gates, Robin pulled a pamphlet from her back pocket and showed it to Margaret. “I picked this up at the hotel. It’s a place that offers horse and carriage rides. You want to go on one?
Margaret chuckled. “You want to go on a horse and carriage ride?”
“Well, I figured you went on a plane, so . . .” Robin hailed a passing taxi. She waited until they were settled in the backseat before raising the subject again. “What do you think? You want to go on a ride?”
“All right,” Margaret said, warming to the idea.
Robin gave the stable’s address to the taxi driver. It didn’t take long to reach their destination and arrange for a ride. The carriage driver supported Margaret’s elbow as she climbed into the carriage. “You ever been on one of these, love?” he asked.
She smiled. “Once or twice.”
*****
Carrying two glasses of lemonade, Pam stepped out into the sunny spring afternoon and strolled across the back garden to where Jasper worked. A smile spread across her face when she spotted him bent over the crib he was making for their first child. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed when she reached him.
Jasper turned to her and wiped his brow, then accepted the glass of lemonade she handed to him. He took a long drink. “I’m not quite finished, but it’ll be ready in time.”
That time couldn’t arrive fast enough. She already felt like a tank, and she wasn’t due for another two months. She sipped her own lemonade and moved to sit on a wooden chair near the crib.
“Don’t!” Jasper barked.
She froze.
“Two of the legs are wobbly, that’s why it’s out here. It might collapse.”
Was he implying something about her weight? Could she blame him? She was surprised nobody had broken a bottle of champagne against her side and christened her the good ship Margaret.
Concern crossed Jasper’s face. “You shouldn’t be on your feet. Maybe you should go inside, where you can sit down.”
“I’m fine, Jasper. I’m pregnant, not ill, and I was just sitting down. I’ll—” Movement behind him caught her eye. Doris strode toward them, her spring coat flapping around her ankles.
She triumphantly held up an envelope. “It came,” she shouted.
Pam gasped. “And?”
“I was accepted.” Before Pam and Jasper could stop her, Doris plunked into the wooden chair. Pam winced, but the chair held. “Oh my.” Doris fanned herself with the envelope. “I’m going to medical school.”
Pam gave her glass to Jasper and held out her hand. “Let me see it.”
Doris leaped to her feet and thrust the envelope into Pam’s hand. “I have to send a letter of intent,” she said, pacing as Pam read the acceptance letter. “I’ll say yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I? Of course I’ll say yes.”
Pam lowered the letter in time to see Doris return to the chair. Jasper lunged forward, but with two lemonades in his hands, all he could do was cringe when Doris plopped herself into it again. It held.
“Do you want a glass of lemonade, Doris?” Pam asked.
Doris shook her head. “I have to tell Oliver.” Her mouth tightened. “I’d tell Mother and Father, if they were speaking to me.”
Doris’s parents had reacted more vehemently than Pam had expected. They’d banned her from their estate—a rather futile gesture. By the time her parents returned from Europe, Doris was already happily decorating the “shack” that Jasper, Oliver, and Bill had turned into a decent cottage. Her parents had also turned their backs on her, rebuffing her every attempt to see them. When Pam and Doris had run into Doris’s mother downtown and Mother had crossed to the other side of the road without a word, Doris had stopped trying. Her parents’ rejection hurt, but Doris hadn’t given up on her dream. Pam admired her for it.
When Pam handed the letter back, Doris fell silent and read it, maybe trying to convince herself that it was true—she would become a doctor. Nothing would stand in her way now. She slid the letter back into the envelope and stood. “Off to Oliver’s, then.”
“Come for dinner tonight.”
“I will.” She hurried away, then turned, strode back to them, and threw her arms around Pam’s neck. “Thank you. Thank you.” She hesitated, then gave Jasper a hug. “I couldn’t have done it without—I’m going to medical school! Good Lord, I’m going to medical school.”
“Go tell Oliver,” Pam said, grinning along with Jasper.
“All right, all right.” Doris whirled and marched away. Without looking over her shoulder, she thrust her arm into the air and waved.
Amused, Pam smiled at Jasper. “Did I tell you that she asked if she could be there when the baby is born, and I said yes? She wants to witness a birth.”
“Will they allow her in?”
“It’s Doris. Somehow she’ll elbow her way in. You’ll be there too, right?”
The blood drained from his face. “Why would I be there?”
“In 2010, the fathers are usually there.”
“Then I’ll be there when you have a baby in 2010,” he said.
Pam tried to muster outrage, but couldn’t. Considering that he was pale and swaying on his feet at the mere thought of being with her as she gave birth, it was probably better that he pace outside, especially since there would be a lot of screaming. No epidural? Jesus.
Jasper handed Pam her lemonade. After they’d finished their drinks, he set their glasses on the grass. She ran her hand along the top of the crib. “It’ll look beautiful in the nursery.” Suddenly she did feel a little heavy on her feet. Apparently the chair wasn’t as hazardous as Jasper had suspected, so she sat on it. Something gave. Uh-oh.
“Pam!”
Jasper’s strong arms were suddenly around her, preventing her from landing on her ass. She and Jasper surveyed the flattened chair. “It didn’t collapse when Doris sat on it!” Pam said indignantly.
“Yes, well—”
Pam leaned into him and pressed a finger to his lips. “One crack about my weight and this baby I’m carrying will be an only child!”
He kissed her finger. “I was going to say that Doris weakened it.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I wonder if it will be an Elizabeth or a Robin who first uses this crib,” he said, apparently eager to change the subject.
“So you’re okay with the names? It’s too bad we can’t call a daughter Margaret. She’ll have to settle for having Margaret as her middle name.”
“If we have a girl, are you sure you don’t want us to call her Pamela?”
“God, no. That’s still my name, and thanks to Doris, everyone’s calling me Pam now. Nope, Elizabeth or Robin.” She smiled. “You’ll think I’m batty, but I talk to Robin—the 2010 Robin—all the time.”
He met her eyes. “Any regrets?”
“No.”
“I wonder if Margaret will regret her choice.”
“She won’t.”
He lifted his brows. “You sound confident of that.”
“Because she’s where the universe wants her to be, just as I am.” Otherwise the rhyme wouldn’t have worked its magic. She missed Robin dearly. If she could have one wish, it would be for Robin to somehow be here, but still live out her life in 2010. Pam was forging new friendships, but nobody would ever replace Robin. They were, and forever would be, connected through time. But Pam was at peace with the choice she’d made, and hoped with all her heart that Margaret would be at peace with hers and live a long and joyous life with Robin. Do me proud, girls. Do me proud. “I miss Robin, but I’m happy, Jasper. I truly am.”
“If we have a girl, we’ll have to keep trying until we have a boy you can name Robin,” Jasper said, a glint in his eye.
“Um, listen, buddy, two’s my limit. It would be nice to have one of each, but if it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. I’ll settle for two girls. Or boys,” she hastily added. Jasper didn’t know they’d have at least one daughter.
His brows drew together. “Oh. Whenever I think of children, I always imagine myself with more than two.”
“How many do you want?” Pam shrieked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Five?”
“Five?” She snorted and pinched his cheeks. “In your dreams, Jasper Bainbridge. In your dreams.”
###
Other titles by Sarah Ettritch at Smashwords.com
The Salbine Sisters
Rymellan 1: Disobedience Means Death
Rymellan 2: Shattered Lives
Connect with Sarah online at www.sarahettritch.com
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Thanks for reading!
Sarah Ettritch, Threaded Through Time, Book Two
