Who Is Frances Rain? Page 11

  “Where is he? Is Tim with her? Has he gone already?”

  “I’m right here, Connie,” said a deep voice beside the stairs. “She’s okay. She’s asleep.”

  I ran towards the stairs and he gently caught my arm. “Don’t wake her, Lizzie, okay?”

  “I have to see her,” I said. “I have to see her.”

  “I know. Just don’t wake her up if you can help it.”

  I nodded dumbly and ran up the stairs. She was lying on May’s chenille bedspread, a down-filled comforter over her long body. Only her knobbly feet stuck out the end. She always likes to keep her feet cool.

  I crept up to her side and gazed down at her. Someone had taken her top plate out, and the soft upper lip had sunk in a little. Her colour was bad.

  I put one hand over her gnarled fist, but didn’t touch it. I wanted to grab it and press it to my face, to feel its warmth, to feel it move. Behind the thin crêpey eyelids, her eyes rolled, then she opened them slowly.

  “Lizzie? My teeth, for Pete’s sake. Get my damn teeth.”

  I took them out of the glass of water and put them in her hand. Like Harv, she gave them a few clicks before smiling up at me.

  “That’s better. My, I needed that sleep. I suppose that May’s got everybody hysterical? I don’t intend to die yet.”

  “Oh, Gran,” was all I could say. “I love you.”

  Her lids grew heavy again. “If you love me, you’ll go make me a cup of tea. I’m dry as a bone. And when the doctor comes, tell her to go home.”

  I shook my head. “No way, Gran.”

  “We’ll start with the tea.” Her eyes closed, then opened again. “Then, doctor or no doctor, we’re out of here.”

  “Listen, Gran —”

  “And don’t forget that tea. I’ll get up otherwise. And give me a hug.”

  When I got down to the kitchen, May was hammering away at some bread dough, cursing under her breath.

  “Where’s Mother and Tim?”

  “They’ve gone outside,” she grunted. “Crazy fools. I told them they could use my living room, but no, they had to go out in the rain.” She shook her head. “Just as well. I could belt both of them.”

  I waited for the rest. I knew she wouldn’t stop there.

  She put her floured hands on her hips. “Your gran cannot take the strain that girl, your mother, puts on her. Has always put on her. First she leaves the area without a howdyadoo ... hardly ever comes up after she’s married. Then when she does come up, she brings this new husband that she’s not talking to half the time. Then the husband walks out and gets Terry in a real tizzy and look what happens!”

  “Well!” I said hotly. “If you people had told my mother about Gran’s being sick maybe we all would have slowed up a little. We love her too, you know. Where’s the tea? Gran wants a cup.”

  We stood in the middle of the room, snorting at each other, then both of us made for the kettle and had a tug of war over it.

  “You make your bread, I’ll make the tea,” I said fiercely.

  We glared over the big silver kettle and burst into tears, hugging each other around its big belly.

  “Doc’s here!” Alex shouted from the yard. A car door slammed and May and I scrambled to let Doc Lindstrom in.

  With a curt nod in our direction, she kicked off her muddy boots and walked swiftly to the stairs.

  “I’ll let you know what’s what after I’ve seen her,” she said. Her friendly freckled face leaned around the door jamb. “Make us both some tea, will you?”

  By the time the kettle was ready, Alex was getting the cups out, cutting up a nut loaf and slapping butter on the slabs.

  “Better get your parents,” he said. “Doc’ll want to talk to them.”

  I nodded and walked to the front windows overlooking the lake. The rain had changed to a thick misty spray and the wind was gusting heavy curtains of it up and down the bay. I saw Tim’s big red rain poncho down by the shore and Mother’s blue raincoat moving towards it, becoming engulfed and disappearing inside. Then they walked towards the lodge. I sat down by the fire in the lounge and tried to look casual.

  They walked in the door and I could tell from Tim’s silly grin that they’d made up. My mother didn’t look happy or sad, but her eyes and face seemed to glow from inside. I figured this was a sign that she was willing to give it a try.

  “I’ll see Gran now that you’re down, Lizzie,” she said in a determined voice. May handed her a cup of tea to take with her.

  The rest of us sat around the kitchen table and waited for the verdict. It didn’t take long.

  Dorothy Lindstrom, known as Doc to the town of Fish Narrows and two hundred miles surrounding it, rumbled deep in her throat, sat down and said, “I’d like to keep her here for tonight, Connie. Just to check on her every few hours. I could send her to The Pas, but I don’t think that will be necessary. Besides, I know she’d fight me all the way.

  She looked at each of us in turn, and I felt pinned to my seat when her small brown eyes bored into mine.

  “As I told you upstairs, Connie, and I’ll tell your husband and daughter, Terry has angina pectoris. She is, after all, over seventy years old, and up to now she’s been doing very well. But I’ve tried to tell her, if she wants a long life, she cannot overdo it.”

  Tim, Mother and I didn’t look at each other, but I could feel their guilt slide onto the table with mine.

  “Now,” she said, clasping her freckled hands together, “now, with all of you staying for the summer, maybe she’s taken on too much. Not that you shouldn’t be here. It’s just that Terry wants to do it all herself. Now you’ll have to do for her. Not treating her like a cripple, mind. But doing the heavy stuff.”

  The three of us hung our heads and nodded. She slapped the table with her hand and we all jumped guiltily.

  “Good! Well, you should be able to have her back under those conditions by tomorrow afternoon. Okay?”

  “That’s better than we expected,” said Mother.

  “But remember,” said Doc, shaking her finger all around. “There can be no stress in her life right now, eh?”

  “Right,” we said sheepishly.

  “That’s settled then. May? I’ll send Isa Birch over. She’s taking on a few special jobs now she’s retired from the nursing home. You and she can keep an eye on Terry.” She looked at us. “Anything else comes up, we’ll send Alex with a message, okay?”

  “Okay,” we repeated in turn.

  We were back at the landing dock by dusk. As we passed the dark silhouette of Rain Island, barely visible in the darkening mist, I thought of Frances. We’d both cried that day at the thought of losing someone we loved. I hugged my raincoat tighter.

  I wondered about two families, many years apart through time, and I thought about how there had been problems on both sides of this strange time curtain that separated us from each other.

  It seemed that no matter what time you lived in, you had to face up to things that weren’t so great. You couldn’t run away from them. I knew that somehow Frances Rain had run away from hers. When I went back to the island, would the girl be gone? Would it all end up with Frances alone again? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But at least we still had Gran.

  The moon slid out from behind a thick bank of clouds, and suddenly I felt very close to Frances, almost as if she rode side by side with me across the misty water.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ERICA, crazy with happiness to have Tim back, but upset over Gran, slammed back and forth between fits of silliness and angry sobbing all through dinner. She didn’t want ham, she wanted ham, no not cut like that, skinny pieces like Gran cut it, sob, sob, sob. I sincerely hoped that Mother and Tim would do something about that whining soon.

  Evan, white-faced and silent, made a qui
et exit to his room after refusing dessert. I think Gran’s illness hit him pretty hard. Mother followed him and returned half an hour later, a bright red spot on each cheek and a gleam in her eye. Round one for those two.

  I was so wiped out, I could hardly see straight. At the doorway into the hall, I turned and said, “Do you really think Gran will be okay?”

  “She has to be. We won’t allow her not to be,” she said.

  When I saw the look she gave Tim, I was satisfied. I staggered down the hall, and as soon as my comforter fell over me, sleep grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me down into its furry cave. The last sound I heard was the steady patter of rain, like velvet-gloved fingers tapping on the roof.

  * * *

  I peered at the glowing hands of my clock. Three-thirty. What had woken me up? Was it because the rain had stopped, and everything was so quiet? Or had some other noise, some sharp night sound outside my window cut through the silence of my dreams?

  The window on the wall across from the foot of my bed was open and the old plaid curtains shifted with the damp breeze that shushed through the silver-edged screen. I burrowed deeper under the comforter. Suddenly I was in one of those awful moments when you are alone and you get that curious feeling that you’re not alone. I felt goose bumps run up and down my arms like spiders. I could handle ghosts in broad daylight now, but the middle of the night was something else. Too Edgar Allan Poe for words.

  I forced myself to think about Gran. And Mother and Tim. And Alex. And about the amazing events of the day. I tried to comfort myself with the thought of Gran returning the next day, but that awful feeling wrapped a little tighter around me.

  I held my breath and stared wide-eyed at the wall beside my face. My skin prickled and my scalp tightened. I wondered who was making that horrible, thin, rasping sound until I realized it was me — trying not to breathe. I knew that if I turned over, one of the Rain Island people would be standing beside my bed. I just knew it.

  Hero that I am, I screwed my eyes shut and covered my head. The feeling eating at me grew even stronger. Lowering the blanket, I rolled one eye as far as it would go to one side. No one. Slowly, slowly, my neck as stiff as a rusted door handle, I turned to look behind me.

  Nothing.

  I sat up. There was nobody there at all. With shaking hands, I lit the coal oil lamp beside my bed. Its wavering light shifted and broke across the log walls and over my bed. No one.

  I felt a little better until I set down the match box on my bedside table and saw the spectacles. They seemed to shudder and shift in the dim light. Did they move just a little towards me? If I put them on, what would I see? I held them up to my eyes with shaking hands.

  Frances and the girl materialized in the darker haze of light at the foot of the bed, their images trembling like the flickering of the flame in my lamp. I pushed my hips back into the pillows and held the covers up to my nose, leaving only my bulging eyes and the glasses above.

  Frances was looking straight at me. I felt my breath leave my body in short, sharp bursts. She was holding both her hands in front of her, palms up, and I felt her energy move across the space between us like an electric arc.

  One of her hands moved slowly away. Its fingers pointed towards the far wall, in the direction of the island. Over and over again she repeated the gesture. I nodded vigorously, not really knowing why. Her long hair was down around her shoulders in a frizzy mess. She was wearing a long-sleeved nightgown. Her cheeks seemed to have fallen inward and her eyes were deeper, full of shadows. It looked as if it had taken all her strength to lift her arms.

  The girl, barely visible, stood beside her, looking around the room with interest, touching the comforter, the bedstead, and her own clothes, a look of wonderment on her shadow face. The coat she was wearing was the same coat she’d arrived in so many years ago. Although she looked in my direction, I didn’t think she could see me.

  Her image faded first, followed by Frances’s, but not before Frances spoke to me once more with her dark, sombre eyes. I nodded with all my might, not knowing if she could see me.

  As their delicate hold slowly gave way, I realized with a shock of surprise that they hadn’t looked at each other. I wondered if either knew the other was there.

  Not removing the spectacles, I lay stiff and still under the covers. I listened and waited, but I knew from the hollowness of the air around me that they were gone. I also knew that I’d go to the island first thing in the morning. If time didn’t play a trick on me, tomorrow I’d know what this visit was all about. If Frances came all the way to my cabin, it had to be important. I wondered where she was now.

  Outside, a new storm wind moaned through the trees and rain poured down like tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  GETTING away wasn’t as easy as I thought.

  When I opened my glued eyelids, Evan was standing at the edge of my bed, glaring at me. The room was flooded with sunlight.

  “You had to go and do a Dear Abby on those two, didn’t you?” he snarked. “Now I’ll have to put up with tuna casseroles for good. God, I hate tuna casseroles.”

  I stared at him through one eye. “Shut up, Evan. You’re as glad as we are to have him back. And get out of my room.” I was in no mood for this particular earthly visitation.

  He stood his ground. “You saw Gran? How did she look?” He was biting his bottom lip, and I took pity.

  “She looked okay,” I said. “Doc Lindstrom says she’ll be fine. She demanded a cup of tea the minute I saw her.” I sat up and stretched. “She’ll be okay. Honest.”

  “Are you bulling me?” he demanded, his voice cracking.

  “No. She looked tired, but she’ll be fine. Really. Truly.”

  “Yeah, well, you better not be bulling me,” he growled and walked out slamming the door behind him.

  I smiled at the ceiling. Soon, he’d be almost human.

  I got dressed quickly, hoping to avoid a crush in the kitchen. They’d beaten me to it. Just my luck. Tim was toasting bread over the open grate in the cookstove and Mother was buttering the pieces. They touched at every opportunity. Now and again she’d glance over at her gaping kids, smile apologetically and then smile again. It was as if she was keeping some private secret to herself. So did Tim.

  When they weren’t looking, Evan made silent gagging gestures, pointing deep into his throat, then clutching his neck, tongue hanging out. After a few minutes of watching the two old coots, I felt in complete sympathy with him.

  “You wanna go fishing?” he asked testily.

  “No thanks. I don’t feel so hot. I think I’ll just bum around.”

  “Suit yourself. Boat needs bailing anyway.” He shrugged.

  “If I bail the boat, can I go?” asked Erica. “Please?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I guess so. If you bail the boat.”

  “Oh, goody! I’ll go now.”

  “You can help her bail, Evan,” said Mother, sweetly smiling.

  Evan rolled his eyes again, glared at Tim and slouched out behind Erica, who was skipping through the kitchen door.

  “No point in hoping to change him overnight,” Tim sighed.

  “Still, isn’t this nice? He’s practising for when Ma gets home. He’ll soon realize he doesn’t have to be a tough guy all the time,” Mother said, fondly. “I’ll have to get a little tougher to match him. And spend more time with him. And the girls. Like you’ve been doing.”

  “Jeez, don’t get too chummy,” I said. “We’re not used to it. Just be there when we do need you. Cripes. Listen to me. I sound like something from my grade ten guidance book.”

  Tim grinned and flipped my ponytail. “Don’t worry. We’ll never turn into the Cosby family. Somehow I’m still outnumbered by McGills.”

  Mother cleared her throat. “So, what are you going to do today, Lizzi
e?”

  It was my turn to grin. “Oh, I thought I’d hang around you guys.” I saw the look that passed between them. “Okay, okay, I can take a hint. I’m going out in the canoe. For, oh ... let’s say a couple of hours? Have fun!”

  “Kids these days know too damn much,” growled Tim, tossing me a piece of buttered toast. I took it on the run and headed out the door.

  * * *

  On the island, leaves glistened from last night’s rain and the white reindeer moss, usually crusty and dry, was soft and spongy under my sneakers.

  When I put the glasses on, I found the girl standing not far from me on the landing rock. She was waving to Frances, who had just pushed off from shore in a loaded-down canoe. Frances was dressed in a plaid jacket and knitted hat. She waved back, then dug her paddle deep into the water, pulling towards Gran’s shore. A few strokes later, she turned and called something to the girl, who shook her head, laughed and waved her away. I had the feeling that she wanted to take the girl with her, but I couldn’t see how, when the canoe was so full of supplies.

  That’s when it came to me that they might be changing camps. If Frances was going on ahead to set up another place, perhaps in one of her trapping cabins, then they must be worried about the Toad Man coming back. Still, I was only guessing. But it made a lot of sense.

  When Frances turned back to her paddling, I was disappointed that she didn’t look my way. Had she forgotten about last night? Did she know I was here? What about her message?

  A gust of wind pulled a million yellow leaves off the trees along the shore. Many of the trees stood naked already, their bare skeletons stark against the sky.

  The girl watched the canoe get smaller and smaller. When it was just a dot, she got up and walked slowly towards the cabin. I sat where I was, watching her, wondering idly what her name was. She didn’t look like a Jane or a Nellie, or even a Hildegard. I watched while she collected wood. After that, when she sat down to read, I sat across from her and sketched her in soft blue pencil. She seemed to suit blue because she was so much harder to see than Frances. I wondered why.