Threaded Through Time, Book Two, page 11
part #2 of Threaded Through Time Series
“Are you sure about this, hon?” he asked, after transferring her to another chair and covering her with a protective cape.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, then.” He picked up a pair of scissors.
Robin was right; Steve was capable of conducting a conversation on his own. Good thing, too, since Margaret only half listened as she sat mesmerized by the transformation taking place in the mirror. What would Mother think, if she could see her now? The state of Margaret’s hair would probably be the least of Mother’s concerns. Mother. A dull ache flared in Margaret’s chest. Sometimes she desperately wanted to know what had happened to those she’d left behind in 1910; other times she wondered if it would be better to remember them as they were, and imagine that they’d lived long and contented lives. When Robin tried to find out about Pam’s life, Margaret would decide whether to let her family rest in peace.
To her relief, Steve was still cutting her hair when he welcomed Robin back. Oh, but she must look a sight, with her limp, wet hair looped up with clips; she would be terribly embarrassed if Robin came over to say hello. Her cheeks reddened. She expected to see Robin’s reflection in the mirror, or to sense her next to the chair, but Robin didn’t approach. When Steve was selecting another pair of scissors, Margaret glanced toward the waiting area and smiled to herself. Robin was reading a women’s magazine, probably bored or thinking about something else. Margaret couldn’t be sure, but she suspected that Robin didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious by staring.
Half an hour later, Steve turned off the blow-dryer and surveyed his handiwork. “You look wonderful, hon.” He spun Margaret’s chair to the right. “Doesn’t she look wonderful?”
Robin tossed her magazine onto the pile sitting on a coffee table, rose, and walked beaming toward Margaret. “Wow! You look beautiful. I can’t believe the difference. I know you loved your mass of hair, but Steve was right. Your beautiful face really shines now.”
And was probably beet red! “Thank you,” Margaret mumbled, still amazed that Robin could openly admire her without shame. Steve was smirking; he knew Robin wasn’t only a friend. According to Robin, he was also a dev—homosexual. But he wasn’t the only one within earshot. Others could be listening, too.
“Just blow-dry it after a shower and you’ll be all set to go,” Steve said. “Thank you for letting me play in your hair. I feel like I’ve cut four heads of hair, not one.” With a flourish, he whipped off the cape, then went to the cash register at the front of the salon. Margaret looked to Robin, then remembered that she had seventy dollars. She pulled the money from her pocket and held it out to Robin, but Robin shook her head and said, “Why don’t you pay him?” When Margaret hesitated, Robin smiled encouragingly. “I’ll be right next to you. This is one area where nothing much has changed, except the prices.”
That was true; people were still people and money was still money. As she’d already noticed, many changes over the last one hundred years were superficial. She should reserve her feelings of intimidation and fear for those that weren’t. She squared her shoulders, went to the counter, and behaved as if she were in 1910, paying for a service. The exchange took place without a hitch.
On the way to her coat, Margaret glimpsed herself in a mirror and paused. For the first time, she felt like a 2010 native. The feeling was fleeting; outside on the sidewalk, with cars whizzing by, she remained close to Robin, afraid of losing her and depending on her guidance. But that momentary sense of belonging would only grow over time.
Robin kept gazing at her. “Absolutely stunning,” she said, and tightened her arm around Margaret’s shoulders while they waited for a light to change.
Margaret glanced around, unaccustomed to such a public display of affection from anyone. “What did you buy?” she asked, referring to the plastic bag hanging off Robin’s right arm.
“Oh, just some vegetables for the sauce I want to make tonight. And while I was out, I went into the camera store here.” Robin pointed ahead of them. “They take passport photos, so that’s our next stop.”
“You want to do that now?”
“There’s no time like the present.”
No, there wasn’t.
Chapter Ten
Pam leaned forward in her chair to clink glasses with Jasper, Oliver, and Hortense, then sipped her wine and watched the couples sweeping around the dance floor. This ball reminded her of the Halloween Ball she’d attended with Jasper in Toronto. It wasn’t as lavish, but the crowd was younger and more energetic, and she actually knew people.
Oliver had driven them to the ball. Now that Jasper had closed the deal on the property and knew how much he could spend, he was eager to buy a car. With a home waiting for them, their wedding booked, and private drives on the horizon, they were both in the mood to celebrate. The invitation to attend the annual Sailor’s Ball couldn’t have come at a better time.
She frowned over the rim of her glass when Elliot and Doris joined them. When it came to Doris, Elliot was all manners and charm tonight, but he always behaved impeccably when they were out in public. In addition to family, he apparently felt comfortable berating her in front of Pam and Jasper, but only showed his true colours behind closed doors. Pam worried for Doris. When she lived with him, would he constantly run her down?
“Shall we dance?” Jasper asked.
She nodded, wanting to recapture the magic of the ball in Toronto and pretend men like Elliot didn’t exist. On the dance floor, she reached for Jasper with both arms, then laughed along with him when he caught one of her hands. “Habit,” she said gaily, captivated by his rugged handsomeness, the colourful evening gowns dotting the dance floor, the music, and the ambiance. As she followed Jasper’s steps, determined to appear as if she’d danced this way for years, her mind wandered back to the Toronto ball—and Robin and Margaret. “Remember Margaret sneaking off to the guest house so we could attend the ball together?” she murmured, knowing full well that wasn’t why Margaret had faked a bad stomach. If she hadn’t fallen in love with Robin, she probably wouldn’t have tolerated Pam and Jasper’s growing affection. Would Pam be here, in Jasper’s arms, if Margaret hadn’t been a closet lesbian? Pam sometimes wondered if her desire to be with Jasper and Margaret’s desire to be with Robin had somehow influenced the rhyme’s effect. Robin definitely belonged in 2010, which could explain why she and Margaret had gone forward, while Pam had remained behind.
Jasper leaned in and whispered, “I still can’t believe Margaret is in the future. She must miss her family and friends.”
And him? “I think about them in the present tense, too.” She couldn’t grasp that they didn’t exist; she sometimes wondered what they were doing and thought of them as alive, but elsewhere, as if the world consisted of time periods rather than continents. She had to remind herself that Robin hadn’t been born, and where was Margaret? In some type of alternate dimension until October, 2010, when she’d suddenly materialize in the exercise room as if she’d beamed down from the starship Enterprise? How was she coping? Did the rhyme book tempt her, or had she quickly adapted to the future?
Pam had to figure out what she’d do with her life. Obviously she’d marry Jasper and have children, but washing faces and darning socks wouldn’t fulfill her. She wanted to do more, but what? So far, she’d learned about the best seamstresses and tailors, where to dine when in town, how to sip coffee and chit-chat, and that she didn’t have the vote. Her embroidery was improving, too. Give her a few months and she might be at the same level as Abigail’s daughter.
It was time to get her head out of the clouds. She wasn’t on holiday; she’d live here for the rest of her life. Next time she was in town, she’d keep her eye out for posters and billboards advertising women’s organizations or volunteer work. Charlotte had mentioned donating to a thrift shop; maybe Pam could help out there. She’d also broach the subject with Jasper, to see if he had any ideas, but only after they were married and settled. He admired independent women; she was positive he’d support her desire to contribute to society beyond raising children.
But if she’d misjudged him and he balked and broke off their engagement? She’d want to go home—to 2010. Her motivation to throw herself into this time period would vanish the moment their relationship did. The rhyme book would beckon, Pam would succumb, and Robin and Margaret’s lives could be ruined. So yeah, until she had a wedding ring on her finger, she’d keep her mouth shut about needing to be more than Holly Homemaker.
*****
Margaret drank her soda and tried to follow the conversation between Robin, Cathy, and the other women at their table. The loud music wasn’t hampering her comprehension, though it didn’t help. The unfamiliar words, the cultural references, and the way they sometimes grasped what another was saying and responded before she’d finished speaking, often left Margaret befuddled. Fortunately nobody had put her on the spot, and she managed to appear sociable by asking the occasional question. But clearly she had a lot to learn before she could hope to engage someone in interesting conversation, and seeing Robin talking to her contemporaries had opened Margaret’s eyes to how different her conversations with Robin were. Robin must sometimes feel as if she were speaking to a child.
The contrast hadn’t been as apparent when they’d met Cathy for tea, perhaps because it had only been the three of them, and Robin had introduced topics she’d discussed with Margaret during their evenings in the study. Margaret hadn’t realized it at the time, but in hindsight . . .
Here, Robin couldn’t control the conversation, and perhaps she didn’t want to. She must enjoy discussing music, books, movies, and TV shows without worrying that she wouldn’t be understood. They’d also discussed their jobs, their studies, interesting places to visit on the Internet, new gadgets . . . It must be a nice change from explaining a simple concept that everyone in 2010 understood, or filling in the gaps in Margaret’s historical knowledge, or rephrasing an idiom.
Oh, she was overstating the difficulties. When they talked, it wasn’t always as teacher and student. They discussed their days, the news, their childhoods, and their values, and they did more than sit and chat. They went for walks, had watched a couple of contemporary movies—and planned to see one in a theatre—and Margaret had read and enjoyed a modern mystery Robin had recommended; she’d already started another one by the same author. Robin was also teaching her how to use the computer and had shown her how to go on the Internet, allowing Margaret to answer some of the questions the newspapers raised without bothering Robin. And despite her initial lukewarm impression of TV, she’d agreed to watch several documentaries, had quite enjoyed them, and now eagerly checked the weekly schedule, usually finding at least one or two shows she wanted to curl up on the sofa with Robin and watch.
But observing Robin with her friends, seeing how naturally she interacted with them, gave Margaret pause. Would Robin tire of her role as instructor? Did she sometimes wish that Margaret was from this time? Though they’d embarked on obtaining Margaret photo identification, and Robin spoke as if they’d remain together in the future, she’d never raised the subject of marriage. It had last come up in 1910, when they’d thought they’d be wrenched apart. Had Robin meant it, or had she gone along with it because she hadn’t expected Margaret to be in her life? Perhaps she was waiting until Margaret had the required identification to formally propose, but why hadn’t she mentioned it at all?
Would they have to share a bed first? The morality regarding sexual relations was more lax in this time, but Robin hadn’t even hinted at the prospect of giving themselves to each other in that way. Had reality tempered Robin’s enthusiasm for their relationship?
Margaret tried to focus on the conversation again, but now she was completely lost. She gazed past Cathy, at the dancers flailing to the music. When she’d first entered the gymnasium, clinging to Robin’s arm, she’d been struck by two observations: that there were no men in attendance—she’d quickly laughed at herself—and that some women wore skirts and dresses, making her feel more at home. Seeing women being openly affectionate with each other had startled her and she’d tried not to stare. It hadn’t taken her long to grow used to the sight, but that hadn’t stopped her from blushing when Robin had put her arm around her at the table. Cathy had thought it was cute, but Margaret had been mortified.
She jumped when Robin nudged her arm. “Do you want to dance? It’s a slow one.” Several of the women were already rising.
Margaret nodded, grateful for the respite from the conversation. “I’m sorry I’m not contributing much to the discussion,” she felt compelled to say as she reached for Robin on the dance floor.
“You’re doing fine. Most of us haven’t seen each other for a while, so we’re catching up.”
And they spoke the same language.
“It’s only natural that you’d listen more than speak. Nobody minds. They all know you just came out.” Fortunately Robin had explained to her what “coming out” meant. “They know it’s your first dance.” Robin’s arms tightened around her. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself when we danced with Francine and Debbie.”
“I was.” She’d always enjoyed dancing, and was still unsure whether the lack of required steps was foolish or liberating. “I’m not the only one in a dress.”
Robin chuckled. “No.”
“I do like to wear the sweatpants in the morning, but I still feel more comfortable in a dress. I’m sorry—”
Robin squeezed her and pressed her lips against Margaret’s ear. “I love you just the way you are.”
Did she? Normally such words from Robin would have Margaret flushing with pleasure, but doubts were beginning to mar her rosy picture of their life together.
*****
Pam descended the stairs and walked up the hallway to the library, hoping to find an interesting book to take with her to the lovely pond she’d discovered yesterday afternoon. Doris hadn’t shown her the picturesque area with its wooden bench and majestic trees, but then, Doris deliberately hurried off in the other direction whenever she spotted Pam. Despite their conversation about women’s position in society, Doris still wasn’t interested in Pam’s friendship. When were her parents due back? Maybe they’d keep Pam company. Better yet, maybe she’d be long gone by then, married to Jasper and decorating their own home.
A shout set her heart racing as she approached the drawing room. It sounded like Elliot. Pam paused outside the doorway.
“. . . learn to put your desires aside! You are going to be my wife!”
Silence.
“You have nothing to say in your defence? You are the only woman who didn’t agree to accompany Gwen to the lecture today. Are you that selfish, that you’d rather read than learn how you can aid the church in its work in India?”
“Margaret declined to—”
“Margaret is new here, and doesn’t share your selfishness—yet. I may have a word with Jasper and suggest that she board with someone else, lest she fall under your influence.”
Oh, for god’s sake. Without thinking, Pam walked into the room. “I’m not falling under her influence, Elliot.”
He spun around. Doris gazed up at her from the chair, where she sat with her hands demurely clasped on top of the open book on her lap.
“I’d rather help the people of Halifax than those in India,” Pam said. “When Jasper and I are settled, I’ll be looking for opportunities to do so.”
“You see!” Elliot spat, flinging his arm toward Pam. “She’s not a selfish woman who cares for nobody but herself.”
Oops. In trying to absolve Doris of any influence over her behaviour, she’d given Elliot more ammunition. “She declined to attend one lecture. That doesn’t mean she’s selfish.”
Elliot’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Margaret, I appreciate your desire to support your friend. It’s admirable, and what I would expect of a lady. But you don’t know Doris as well as I do. Books matter to her more than people.” He looked down his nose at Doris. “Including her future husband.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Pam said, sure that it was.
He smirked and shook his head, then suddenly grabbed the book from Doris’s lap, snapped it shut, and held it under her nose. “Will this keep you? Will this give you children?” Pam tensed when his eyes went to the book Doris had shoved down the side of the cushion. He tossed the first book onto the table and slid the other book from its hiding place. “What’s this?” He read the title; his face darkened. “What’s this?” he shouted.
Doris swallowed and stared at her lap.
“You were told, Doris! How could you disobey me? You are not to read these books!”
Pam couldn’t stand by and watch. “Why shouldn’t she read the books?”
“Because she is going to be my wife!” he roared. “She doesn’t need to know any of this.” He growled and flung the arm holding the book across his chest. For a split second, Pam thought he was going to sideswipe Doris with it. She stepped forward, then stopped when he picked up the other book and tucked both books under his arm. “Obviously leaving you on your own, unsupervised, wasn’t a good idea. The moment your parents left for Europe, I should have made other arrangements for you. I’ll discuss the matter with Mama and Papa. If they’re agreeable, you’ll move in with them. I’ll find temporary lodgings in town.”
Doris’s eyes widened; she shot to her feet. “No, Elliot, please. I’ll—”
“Unfortunately that will leave you here on your own,” Elliot said to Pam, as if Doris wasn’t in the room. “I apologize, but it must be done.”
“I don’t want to go, Elliot. Please don’t make me go.”
Pam winced at Doris’s pleading tone, her white face, and the fear in her eyes. She shouldn’t have to beg her fiancé to let her live in her own home. “Doris is a grown woman.”
