Who Is Frances Rain? Page 10

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ALEX showed up first thing the next morning, and after that I met him at the landing every day. We spent most of our time at the lodge, helping May during the day and playing backgammon and cards in the old living room at night.

  I asked Evan along a couple of times, but he only sneered and said rude things about big noses attracting each other all over the world.

  A couple of the days, Alex and I tried to get the ghosts to return to Rain Island, but we had no luck. I figured the spectacles had lost their magic. Then Alex had to go with his dad and a group of Americans on a fishing trip for a few days, and I went back to Rain Island on my own.

  Frances and the girl appeared as easily as the picture on my colour TV, and seeing them seemed as natural as seeing reruns of Star Trek on Saturday morning.

  They didn’t stay long that first time back, but at least it was long enough to tell me that the girl was still there. She was lying on an old straw couch outside the cabin door in the dappled shade of the trees. When I edged closer, I saw that she was sketching in pen and ink on the pages of a large sketchbook. Frances was sitting beside her, repairing stretchers for furs. They weren’t talking but they looked content enough.

  The next day, they were in much the same positions, except Frances was reading a book. Now and again she’d look out over the lake with a strangely longing look. Once, the girl looked up from her work and said something. Frances shook her head. The girl pointed towards the dock. Frances shook her head again. The girl seemed upset. She leaned towards Frances and began to beg. When she started to get up, Frances leaned over and pushed her gently back into the cushions on the couch. Frances nodded and touched the girl’s head briefly before walking into the cabin. She came outside a few minutes later with a small backpack over one shoulder. The girl and I watched her push her little canoe into the glaring sunshine. She turned and waved. The girl waved happily back.

  When she’d gone a few feet, I raced to the Beetle, ready to follow her. But by the time I’d turned the canoe around she was gone.

  Each day after that, I returned to watch. Sometimes Frances was there; sometimes it was just the girl and me. I brought my sketchbook and coloured pencils and it was more than weird to sit there sketching someone who was sitting there sketching, and her not knowing I was there — you know what I mean. I think.

  Sometimes the images stayed longer and the colours seemed brighter, and once I even thought I heard their voices muffled and distant in my head. Sometimes the glasses would warm to my skin and I’d feel a presence close to me, almost touching but not quite. Who was it standing beside me? The girl? Frances? What did they want me to see? Were they using me as a projector to relive their time together? Were they standing beside me all the time, watching with me? Were they trying to tell me something?

  On the day that Alex was coming home, something happened but I didn’t know at the time what it meant.

  When I arrived at the island, I put the glasses on before docking. I floated through their dock, but I felt a hesitation, almost a gentle nudge before I passed through the image. I pulled the canoe on shore and was about to walk up the slope, when the girl appeared, walking towards me.

  She was dressed in oversized pants and a plaid shirt. Her hair was a wild mass around her head, and her long nose was peeling and red. She wasn’t wearing her glasses. It’s silly, I know, but when she walked past me, without seeing me, I felt lonely and unimportant, as if I had just been snubbed.

  She seemed so much stronger and healthier now, and after she passed by, I felt that I knew her from somewhere, somewhere other than the island. I shook my head. I could imagine anything now.

  I looked around and realized that leaves were turning colour on their side of time. Already? How much time — their time — had passed in the last few days? In one week, I’d only caught bits and pieces of her summer with Frances.

  She clambered into the freighter canoe and reached down to hoist a makeshift sail which she put into place by dropping the end of the slender mast through a hole in one of the canoe’s thwarts. The wind caught it and pulled her away from shore. She leaned her head back and laughed into the wind that whipped her long brown hair around her head. Did I hear the echo of her laughter through the rush of autumn breezes?

  Playing the fool, she stood up and pretended to be looking for other boats, doing a Pirates of Penzance stand on the seat. She turned quickly and waved at someone on the shore. I waved back and then realized what I was doing and dropped my hand. I felt someone beside me. Frances walked past onto the dock. She was calling out to the girl and gesturing for her to sit down. The girl just laughed and waved.

  The huge canoe floated gently away with the girl waving with great swoops to the lone figure on shore. Frances laughed and waved back, then sat down on the dock cross-legged and watched the girl tack back and forth across the dazzling bay, using her hand as a shade against the strong sun.

  A wide grey cloud suddenly scudded across the sun’s path, and when she lowered her hand she wasn’t laughing anymore. Tears were falling down her cheeks and her face was twisted with sorrow.

  Why? Had I missed something? What hadn’t the glasses allowed me to see? What was happening? I felt like screaming with frustration. It couldn’t be the girl’s illness, not when she looked this healthy. I watched her playing around in the boat. Surely she was getting better.

  Then another, more likely, idea hit me. What if the girl’s visit was coming to an end? What if the Toad Man would be returning soon?

  I tried to hold on, wanting to comfort Frances, but first she, then the girl and then the canoe, disappeared into the smoky blue of my own summery world. Whenever the image ended on its own like this, the horrible dizziness and headaches didn’t happen, just a fidgety muggy feeling like the one you feel when you wake up from a soggy afternoon nap.

  I paddled away from the island, feeling as if I was deserting someone when they really needed me. If only I could have helped her. But how? I shook my head. I was really going crazy. Tell me this. How could I help someone who had been dead for over sixty years?

  Before long, I was going to find out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  EVERYTHING was quiet when I got home. Too quiet. Erica and Tim must have been swimming some time in the morning. The old black rubber raft had been pulled up on the sandy strip down by the dock. Sand pails, toy boats and other toys were scattered along the dock and shoreline.

  As I walked up the path, I pulled my T-shirt away from my sticky back. The screen door creaked under my touch. Something moved on the lounge by the far window. I saw Erica’s spiky hair, pulled into a butterfly clip, poke up from behind the arm of the chair.

  “Hi,” I said.

  She twisted away and looked hard at the hummingbird hovering at the feeder outside the screen. Something in that movement and the damp tendrils of dark hair around the side of her pink cheeks made me stop and take a closer look. She’d been crying.

  I pushed her legs over and sat down. “What’s up?”

  She glared at me. “What do you care?”

  “What do you mean by that? I just asked what was up.”

  “And I said, what do you care?” She brushed her damp hair back with a pudgy hand.

  “I care. Is something wrong?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong! Tim’s gone. That’s all.”

  “Gone? Where?”

  “I don’t know. He took his big purple bag and Gran drove him away. He left.”

  “You mean, he left? As in, gone for good?”

  “You’re stupid as Mama,” she said in a dull voice. “I told her the same thing when she got back from her walk. And she asked the same thing. He left her a note. He asked me to give it to her. He said he’d visit me regular. But he won’t. Daddy doesn’t. But I don’t care.” Her eyes told me differe
ntly.

  “Well, you’ve still got me, you know.”

  “You don’t ever even talk to me anymore. You leave every morning and you come back after I’m in bed. I only see you sometimes at dinner and then you only talk to Gran.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I told you! She took Tim over. She isn’t back yet. They wouldn’t even let me come. She said she was going to the lodge.”

  “How did she seem? Mad?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Where’s Mom?”

  She shrugged with disgust and muttered, “They argued for a long time. She told Tim to get lost. She said she was going home and if he didn’t like it he could lump it. Is that what lumping it means? Leaving?”

  “I guess it does. But don’t worry. He’ll be back.”

  She sat up straight. “Oh no, he won’t, Elizabeth McGill! You and Mama and Evan hate him! He’s my best friend. He’s the nicest person on earth. And I hate the rest of you creeps. Only Gran is okay and she’s always been yours, not mine. And you even leave her to go out with Alex Bird every day!”

  That hit home. All of it hit home. She was right about everything. I hadn’t given Gran more than a passing thought. Even worrying about her health hadn’t lasted long. I was too busy with Alex or Frances and the girl.

  “You’re wrong about Tim and me, though,” I said. “I like Tim.”

  “Oh, yeah? Since when?”

  She was right again. I hadn’t even bothered to let him know he was okay. And what had happened to the promise I’d made to myself to talk to Mother?

  So Tim was gone, thanks to me. And Evan. And Mother. We’d done it together. For different reasons. But we all needed him, I realized with a start. I remembered Frances’s tears and how helpless I’d felt not being able to do anything. Here was something maybe I could fix.

  “I’ll get him back somehow. And I’ll hang around more. Honest.”

  She turned her face into the pillow of the lounge. Promises, promises. She was right. Boy, was I paying. What a mess.

  The cabin was quiet. I thought the living room was empty until I saw Evan’s head over the top of the couch.

  Kicking off my sweaty sneakers, I said, “Where’s Mother? I’ve got to talk to her.”

  He looked over his shoulder. I heard the clink of ice in his Coke. “How should I know? Outside somewhere. I guess you heard that Sunshine Boy left, huh? Hallelujah.”

  I sat on the arm of a chair. “Erica told me.”

  “Stupid jerk didn’t last long, did he?” he sneered. “These big guys act tough, but they crumble easy. And to think I wasted my time taking him fishing these past few days.”

  “You did?”

  “So? That doesn’t mean we’re engaged. He was a pain in the ass, anyway. Now it looks like I won’t have to humiliate him on the racquetball court this winter. He was going to drag me to his club and make me join. He owes me two blue Repella hooks and a rod. He’d better pay up.”

  I gaped at him. “You mean that you and he were going to join a club together?”

  “Don’t get me confused with Erica. I just told him I’d go to get the big oaf off my back. I’ll be glad when I finally move in with Dad.”

  “Grow up, Evan. Don’t you know yet that Dad isn’t going to have you or any of us kids there? It’d hamper his style. Mother got in the way of his act, too. That’s why he left.”

  “And why did Tim leave? Eh? Tell me that. Are we in the way of his act?”

  “No, I think he left because he was in the way of all our acts. He’d never leave the way Dad did.

  We looked at each other. I guess we both knew it was true.

  “But I’ll tell you one thing, Evan. I’m going to straighten this mess out, if it’s the last thing I do. Tim will be back. You’ll see!”

  “I’ll see it and then I won’t believe it,” he said softly.

  I walked out of the room, down the hall and out the back door in search of my mother. I, for one, was not going to sit around waiting for something to happen.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I FOUND her sitting on the steep ledge where Gran and I had talked about Frances Rain. She looked around when she heard me coming, and I thought she was going to make a run for it, but then she sighed, slumped forward and looked out at the lake.

  A heavy ridge of dark clouds was piling up behind the far shore. Small ochre clouds were being herded ahead while the big ones puffed themselves up and rolled uneasily towards us. Everything seemed dark blue and yellow.

  “Storm coming,” I said. “Big noisy one from the looks of it.”

  She shifted to make room for me. I sat down.

  “Tim’s gone, eh? Erica told me.”

  She nodded. Her hands on her knees were tightly clenched, the thumbs tucked inside.

  “I was just getting used to him,” I said. “His leaving was our fault, I guess. Evan and me. We didn’t try very hard. Sorry.”

  She gave me a wry smile. “You two didn’t help, but it was Tim and me ... no, I failed Tim.” She shivered against the cool breeze that suddenly drifted off the choppy water below. “He tried. I didn’t. End of marriage. It wasn’t fair to marry him when I wasn’t ready. Still, I hoped Her words trailed off.

  “Why did you marry him?”

  “Tim? Don’t you think we simply fell in love?”

  “Did you?”

  “Believe it or not, I think we did. But I’ve never been really sure why I married him so quickly. Yes — yes, I guess I do know. Because I was scared. Because I was lonely. Because I could see myself getting old without someone who’d finally understand how I was feeling without explanations. I felt like one of those people who stand high above the traffic on a narrow ledge. Tim seemed to be able to keep me from looking down. For a while.”

  She seemed to be talking more to herself than to me. I wasn’t sure if I should even be listening. Still, I had to try.

  “Then what went wrong?” I asked in a quiet voice. We’d never talked like this before.

  She rested her chin on her knees. “I think I kept expecting him to go inside and close the window and leave me out on the ledge alone.”

  “Like Dad did?”

  She looked at me, surprised. “Yes, like that.”

  “Tim wouldn’t do that.”

  “But I just couldn’t convince myself. So I figured it would be better if I didn’t get too close.”

  “Do you still want to be with him?”

  She laughed. It sounded distant and sad. “Yes, I think I do.”

  “It doesn’t have to be over,” I offered. “He’s nuts about you. Well ... realistically, maybe you’re second to Erica, but still up there on his list.”

  She laughed. “No. I’m not sure I’d be on his list now.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “You wouldn’t understand, Elizabeth.” Her voice sounded choked off.

  “What’s to understand? You love him and he loves you. Dad left us because he didn’t want to be with us anymore. Tim wants to be with us. Cripes! We couldn’t get rid of him. You could try at least, couldn’t you? It must be worth a try.”

  She looked up at the rolling clouds. Tears ran out of the corners of her eyes. I waited.

  Finally she said, “I guess it’s worth a try. It would be ... hard. But Tim —”

  “But Tim what?”

  Mascara had run into the hollows of her eyes. Her hair was all over the place. Was this my mother? “Tim said he was through when he left here,” she said. “I have a feeling that he meant it.”

  “Like they say in the romance novels, Mother, go after him. If Tim saw you coming for him, he’d know you loved him. And you do, don’t you? You said so, didn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “The
n, go and talk to him. Drag him back. And stay here with us. To hell with what’s happening in the city.”

  She grinned. My mother actually grinned.“Yeah,” she said, as the first big raindrops fell on our faces. “To hell with the city.” She headed down the trail towards home. Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. “For a while, anyway.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  GRAN had taken the sixteen footer, so we were left with the smaller boat. Its shallow bottom slammed up and down over the choppy waves. It wasn’t until we were at the landing in the far bay that it hit me.

  “We don’t have a car, I’ll bet,” I said, tying up the boat next to Gran’s. I squelched back and forth on the rotting dock. “We’re so stupid; we should have brought Gran’s keys to her little Rover. Now we don’t have a ride.”

  Mother, her bangs plastered against her forehead, peered through the steady downpour. “I never thought. I have the keys to our car. Maybe they used hers. Tim wouldn’t leave us without a car. He’s probably going to take the bus.”

  She was right. The station wagon stood underneath the trees at the end of the trail, littered in leaves, twigs and dead bugs. Good old Tim.

  When we parked at the back of the lodge, we found May standing behind the screen door, as if she’d been waiting for us. We slogged through the puddles towards her.

  “Thank God, you’ve come,” she breathed. “Tim is upstairs with her now. We’re waiting for the doctor.”

  Mother swung open the door. “What’s wrong? Is it Ma?”

  “Didn’t you see Alex on the road? He was on his way to get Doc and then to get you.” May looked grim. “She had one of her funny spells. I think it may be her heart.”

  “What funny spells? I don’t know anything about any funny spells. Did she have a heart attack?”

  May was trying hard to be calm, but her hands were wringing a tea towel. “Well, Connie, she’s been having these pains the past while. Doc gave her pills that she puts under her tongue. We gave her one and she’s lying down. The pain’s stopped and she’s asleep. She seemed awfully agitated when she came in. She kept insisting that Tim stay and eat with her and when he wouldn’t — he said something about the bus — she got even more upset and that’s when the pains started.”