Pam rounded the chair to peer at him, and cringed at the red welt across one cheek. She bit her lip. “Regrets?”

  Jasper looked up and shook his head. “No. I would have preferred not to destroy Margaret’s reputation, but there wasn’t any other way. When people find out that we’ve left the city together, they’ll jump to the conclusion that she’s pregnant, so I thought I might as well use it.” He sighed. “But what if Margaret comes back?”

  “She won’t.” She’d better not. Note to Margaret: I’d stay where you are, sweetie, unless you won’t mind being the town slut.

  “I still don’t understand it. When we were in 2010, she was so adamant about sheltering herself. Why would she choose to remain in the future?”

  Pam considered telling him the truth, but only for a second. Unmarried sex and pregnancy threw everyone into a tizzy; imagine what an unabashed lesbian relationship would do. It would probably induce mass hysteria—and perhaps turn Jasper against her. She’d lived with Robin; because of that, he might question her own moral character. Ridiculous, but he was a product of his time—though apparently not above a little fornicating now and then. But homosexuality? Better left unsaid. Sorry, Robin, but I know you’d understand. You kept your mouth shut in 2010 for the same reason.

  Would she carry on conversations with Robin and Margaret in her head for the rest of her life? Probably. It was her way of keeping them with her. Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes. Cripes. She lowered her head and brushed them away before Jasper noticed.

  “Why would she give up everything she knows?” Jasper said.

  Pam focused on him. “She might have done it for us, and for Robin. She knew we were in love. She knew Robin hated it here. We don’t know how the rhyme works. She knows that reading it could bring Robin back to 1910, or separate us.”

  His voice softened. “Margaret always thought of others before herself. She was so generous when we were all together, and then to give up her life here so we can spend the rest of our lives with each other . . . what a sacrifice.”

  Pam stifled a snort. Saint Margaret was getting a brand new life out of the deal. She cleared her throat. “Well, I guess I don’t have to practice her handwriting now. What’s the plan?”

  Jasper brightened. “After I’ve spoken to Father, I’ll go to the train station. Then we’ll have an early supper together.”

  “Um, this may be a long shot, but do you know what a condom is?” She gasped when he reddened. “You do! Can you, uh, get your hands on a couple . . . a few . . . enough to last us to Halifax?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I doubt we’ll have much opportunity to, uh, be together in private in Halifax.”

  Oh my god, their wedding wouldn’t take place until December. “Then you’d better get a move on, so you can hurry back and spend the rest of the day with me.”

  He reached out and caught her hand. “I have the feeling that sharing my life with a twenty-first-century woman is going to be quite the experience.”

  Pam winked at him.

  Chapter Three

  Margaret opened her eyes and stretched, then sat up with a start. The sunlight—what time is it? She glanced at the clock on the night table. Almost 10:00! Good Lord, she never slept this late, but she’d fallen asleep after three in the morning and then tossed and turned all night. Her eyes settled on the rainbow flag on the wall. She’d awakened to it for a month without understanding what it represented, but it was familiar, and hence comforting. She’d offered to sleep in Pam’s bedroom or the guest room, so that Robin could have her own bedroom back. But Robin had rightly guessed that Margaret would feel more at ease in the room that had been “hers” in 2010. She had so few anchors here: Robin, this room, the chair in the study, the spot on the sofa where she’d sat and read Dickens. One foot felt warmer than the other. Margaret reached out and stroked Mitzy. “And you.”

  Mitzy ignored her, only stirring when Margaret carefully slid her foot from underneath her and swung her legs off the bed. But how did Mitzy get into the bedroom? She looked to the door, which stood ajar; Margaret was sure she’d closed it. Crossing to it, she peered out into the hallway. The house was quiet. Was Robin still asleep after a restless night, or was she in the study or downstairs?

  Except for her first morning in 2010, Margaret had always awakened to the alarm she’d set for 6:00. She’d showered before anyone else rose, and by the time she was ready to go downstairs, everyone was already up and dressed. She would have been horrified if Jasper had seen her in her nightgown, and seeing him in his nightclothes would have embarrassed them both. But was that the custom of this time? Would it be improper for Robin to see her in her nightgown, or for her to see Robin in her . . . did Robin wear a nightgown?

  Margaret had no intention of going downstairs before dressing, but she wanted to shower. She shut the door, threw on a dress, and quickly pinned up her hair. At least she’d look presentable if she bumped into Robin on her way to the bathroom.

  By the time Margaret stepped into the empty study, it was after 11:00. Her heart pounding, she descended the stairs, and let out a quiet sigh of relief when she entered the kitchen and saw Robin sitting at the table, hunched over a sheet of paper.

  Robin looked up and smiled. “Good morning.” She pointed to a mug on the table. “Tea. I would have made you toast, but it’s so close to lunchtime, I wasn’t sure if you’d rather have a sandwich.”

  Blood rushed to Margaret’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “No! No, no. I wasn’t criticizing. You can sleep in as long as you like, though I did look in on you, to make sure you were all right. Mitzy darted into the room. I didn’t want to risk waking you up by shooing her out. I hope she didn’t bother you.”

  What? Robin had seen her as she slept, with her hair in disarray and . . . Margaret hoped the blanket had been pulled up to her chin! “No, she didn’t,” she mumbled, then pulled out the chair in front of the mug and sat down. “Have you been up long?”

  “A few hours. I came down and had a tea, then went back upstairs and showered.”

  But had she been dressed when she came downstairs? Margaret sipped her tea. Despite how silly she’d feel, it would be better to ask than wonder. “I expect I’ll ask you many stupid questions in the coming months.”

  Robin frowned. “Margaret, you’re missing a hundred years. Of course you’ll ask questions, and they won’t be stupid.”

  “When you came down for your tea, were you dressed?” When Robin’s brows drew together, she added, “I don’t know if it would be improper for you to see me in my nightgown, and for me to see you in your . . .”

  “Pyjamas,” Robin said, her eyes bright. “No, it wouldn’t be improper. On the weekends, I sometimes don’t get dressed until after lunch.”

  “But—”

  “I know, the month you and Jasper were here. We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and frankly, I didn’t want to lounge around in my PJs in front of Jasper. I won’t mind with just you.” She raised her hand. “But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  “No, I . . . I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Don’t feel you have to waltz around in your nightie, though. If you want to dress before coming down, that’s fine. If not, you can always wear Pam’s robe. Well, I guess it’ll be yours now.” Robin paused. “We’ll have to go through her clothes, see what fits.”

  Margaret could tell that Robin wasn’t looking forward to it, and neither was she. “I’ve often seen my girlfriends in their nightclothes. I only asked because we’re . . . we . . .”

  “We’re involved?” Robin chuckled. “This is a bit strange, living together when we haven’t even gone on a date. Talk about putting the cart before the horse. It’s one of the first things I’ll do when you’re comfortable going out.”

  “What?”

  “Take you on a date.”

  The prospect thrilled and frightened her. To step out with Robin . . . Where would they go?

  “Talking about being more comfortable, I’ve been writing down a list of what we need to do.”

  Margaret tilted her head so she could read it:

  Pam—resign

  Birth certificate—find it

  Photo ID

  Evening class

  Newspapers

  Friends

  “It’s not comprehensive,” Robin said. “I just wanted to write down some thoughts I had last night before I forgot them.”

  While she was lying awake in bed, no doubt.

  “Our main problem right now is Pam, or rather, her disappearance. Our second problem is getting you into the system. I know Pam said to be her, but it’s not that easy.”

  Robin’s comment reminded Margaret of Pam’s letter and the questions she’d tucked away. “Why do you think Pam jumped to the conclusion that I’d decided to remain here? There could have been any number of reasons why I didn’t reappear.”

  Robin pressed her lips together and avoided Margaret’s eyes. “This is my fault.”

  “How can it be your fault?”

  “I told her. About you and me. I only told her the morning we were—yesterday morning, for god’s sake.” Robin shook her head. “I’m sorry. I knew I had to come back to 2010, but I still felt torn, you know? I needed to talk about it. But I had no right to tell her about you.”

  Margaret wanted to touch her. She reached for her mug instead, then stopped herself. Why shouldn’t she comfort Robin? Her heart leaped in her chest as she grasped Robin’s fingers and squeezed them, then her breath quickened when Robin’s face relaxed and her fingers interlocked with Margaret’s. These were the moments Margaret would cling to when grief intruded; the moments she never could have experienced in her own time. “You and Pam were almost like sisters,” she said quietly. “Of course you would talk to her. I’m sure you talked about Jasper. She would have talked your ear off about him here, had you both returned.”

  “That would have been different. If I’d told her here instead of in 1910, you wouldn’t have been forced into this situation by having the decision taken away from you.”

  “The decision wasn’t taken away from me,” Margaret said. “Her letter merely lent support to the only choice that makes sense.”

  Robin studied her. “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I’m not. I would never risk taking you back to 1910.” She raised her free hand when Robin’s mouth opened. “But that’s not the only reason. What do I have to go back to? A broken engagement, a disappointed family, life as a nun? I had already made the decision to give up my family and friends so I wouldn’t have to live a lie.”

  “They would have visited you.”

  “That’s true. But when I weigh the occasional social hour against living as myself, fully myself, all the time, the choice is clear, though still a painful one. I will miss them.” Terribly. “I wonder what they thought became of me.”

  Robin pursed her lips. “Well, Pam and Jasper probably took off to Halifax pretty quickly. Perhaps they wrote a letter. Perhaps Jasper went to see them, to explain why you’d left so suddenly.”

  Margaret lifted her brows. “What would he say?”

  “I don’t know.” Robin squeezed Margaret’s hand. “But I’m sure they explained your abrupt departure in a way that offered comfort to your family. They would have been kind.”

  “I know.” Not wanting to exacerbate Robin’s guilt after she’d just soothed it, Margaret looked away when her eyes grew misty. “Tell me about your list,” she said, hoping a change of subject would allow her to master her composure.

  Robin picked up the pen lying next to the paper and pointed to the first item. “We have to explain why Pam isn’t here anymore, otherwise someone will report her missing, and that’s the last thing we want. I’m mainly worried about her work. She’s obviously not going to be there tomorrow.”

  It was Sunday! She’d missed watching her church service, but perhaps God would forgive her this once. Surely He’d take into account her sudden change of circumstances. “What are we going to do?” she asked Robin.

  “I’m going to email—write a letter—to Pam’s manager, telling her that I’m not back from a weekend getaway.”

  “Why would you tell Pam’s manager about you?” Margaret asked, confused.

  “Sorry. I’ll send the email from Pam’s account. It’ll be like I’m signing the letter as Pam,” Robin clarified, probably seeing Margaret’s incomprehension on her face. “I’ll start with the weekend getaway so Pam’s manager won’t be completely surprised when I drop off a resignation letter from Pam.”

  “You’ll forge her handwriting.”

  “No, you’ll forge her signature. We’ll type the letter, so all we have to worry about is her signature.”

  Fear snaked through Margaret at the prospect of committing a criminal act. “Why me?” she breathed.

  “To get you into the system as you, you’ll have to be Pam for a while. Once we have ID with your photo and you’ve transferred ownership of the house to me, you can change your name. Points two and three on my list are about that.” Robin tapped the two lines with her pen. “The first step is being able to sign Pam’s name, so your task for today is to start practising. After lunch, I’ll find something with her signature on it.”

  Learning how to write Pam’s signature shouldn’t excite her, but it did, perhaps because she’d be doing something useful.

  “Point four, evening class. I’m going to pick up the schedules for a couple of the colleges and school boards. I’ll also check online—on the computer. Many of them have, uh, hobby classes in the evenings. I thought we could find one for you that starts in January.”

  Margaret gaped. “What?”

  Robin smiled. “Don’t panic. We’ll find something you’re comfortable with, and by January, the thought won’t be so intimidating.”

  “But—”

  “Just one class, Margaret. There are classes about cooking and crafts. Or maybe you’ll try a beginner’s computer course, though I’ll teach you the basics—and more, if you’re interested.”

  Margaret’s mind raced. In 1910—until recently—she’d seen herself living out her life as a wife, mother, and, if God blessed her with longevity, a grandmother. She would support her husband, raise children, call on friends, and become involved in charitable works. That was the life she’d fully expected to live ever since she was a little girl.

  Last night, as she’d lain awake, she’d wondered what Robin would expect of her here. She’d still seen herself in the role of a wife. She was a woman—but then, so was Robin, and Margaret couldn’t see her at home in an apron all day. But what if Margaret wanted to be a wife, to stay home and take care of Robin? Would Robin allow it? Would it disappoint her? What was acceptable in this time? Were all women expected to work? Did lesbians have wives? Perhaps they were both expected to behave like husbands. Margaret wanted to cry out in frustration. Perhaps she shouldn’t have sheltered herself so much when she was here before, but she’d never dreamed that this time would become her time, and that her friendship with Robin would grow into something more.

  She could no longer rely on anything she believed or knew. She was a child again, trying to understand the world in which she lived. “It’s overwhelming.” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, but when Robin’s forehead puckered, she realized that she had.

  “I can’t imagine it.” Robin’s eyes were sympathetic. “You’re like an immigrant to a strange new country. But you speak the language. You have some familiarity with the neighbourhood.” Her voice softened. “And you have me.”

  A lump rose in Margaret’s throat.

  “You also have time. I’m only suggesting a class because it will get you out there doing something, where you can interact with other people. It will only be one night a week, and hopefully you’ll enjoy it. I think you’ll be ready for that by January, but I don’t want to rush you. We can always enrol you and then cancel, if need be.” Robin jutted her chin toward Margaret’s mug. “Drink your tea before it gets cold.”

  Margaret had forgotten about it. The warm liquid calmed her nerves somewhat.

  “Point five, newspapers. I’ll bring one home every night for you to read. We can have a little question and answer period in the study, while we’re having our tea.”

  She relaxed further. The thought of tea with Robin in the study every night warmed her more than the tea had.

  Robin waved the pen at Margaret. “I’ll expect you to read the previous day’s newspaper every day while I’m in class. No lying around watching TV or Pam’s movies all day.” Her amused eyes mirrored Margaret’s opinion of that. “Okay, point six, friends. Namely, mine. You’ll have to meet them. They’re already wondering why I’ve been a hermit for a month.” Robin’s brows lifted. “Of course, it’s been two months, but they don’t know that. When I turn twenty-seven, I’ll actually be—” Her brow furrowed. “When’s your birthday?”

  “May 12th. I was born in 1887.”

  Robin stared at her. “You can’t go around saying that! In fact, you can’t even say the May 12th part. From now on, your birthday is January 18th and you were born in 1984.”

  “Pam’s birthday?” When Robin nodded, Margaret’s heart sank. Would there be any trace of her left in the end?

  Robin wrote May 12th on the sheet of paper, then looked up. Margaret closed her eyes when Robin let go of her hand and caressed her cheek. “You’ll be lucky,” Robin said softly. “You’ll have two birthday celebrations every year, one public and one private.”

  Margaret gulped down her sorrow and opened moist eyes. “When is your birthday?”

  Robin lowered her hand and rested it on Margaret’s arm. “November 20th. I’m a couple of months older than Pam.”

  “You were born in . . .”

  “Ninety-six years after you, in 1983. But I’m still older than you. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.”

 

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