An Acceptable Time by Madeleine L'Engle

her husband and Polly. “As you gathered, that was Nason. Louise has filled him with chagrin and remorse, as a result of which she hasn’t been able to talk him out of feeling that he can protect Polly from the past if he’s here with her, which is certainly logic no-how contrariwise. They’re coming over for dinner.”
    Mr. Murry smiled. “That was at least partly his motivation in calling.”
    His wife smiled back. “Cooking has never been Louise’s thing. She’s a perfectly adequate cook, but it’s not foremost on her mind.”
    “And Nase has rather gourmet tastes,” he added.
    “And you’re a terrific cook,” Polly said.
    Her grandmother flushed. “Oh, dear, it does look as though I was fishing for a compliment.”
    “A well-earned one,” her husband said.
    “I enjoy cooking. It’s therapy for me. Louise’s therapy is her rose garden. You may note, Polly, that we don’t have any roses.”
    “Accept it graciously, my love,” her husband said. “You’re a good cook.”
    “Thanks, dearest.” She sat down, elbows on table, chin in hands. “Polly, there is the matter of your parents.”
    Polly looked at her questioningly.
    “Your grandfather believes that you are right, that it would not be safe to take you out of the tesseract, to send you back to Benne Seed. And if I didn’t take his fear seriously, you’d be with your parents right now.”
    “How far can I go?” Polly asked. “How far away from the time threshold?”
    Her grandfather folded his paper. “I’m not sure. About ten or so miles, I’m guessing. Maybe more. Maybe as far as Anaral and her people ranged. But not up in a plane. Not across the country.”
    “Well, I really am in the tesseract.” And she told them about Anaral’s visit.
    Her grandparents gave each other troubled looks.
    “Don’t tell Mother and Daddy,” Polly urged. “Not yet. We don’t know enough. It sounds too impossible.”
    Her grandfather said, “If I know your father, he’d come and get you and there’d be no reasoning with him. And that could be fatal.”
    “I hate secrets,” her grandmother said. “But I agree it would be best to keep silent for a few days.”
    “Till after Halloween,” her grandfather said.
    “Tomorrow,” her grandmother added.
    “Samhain,” Polly said.
    “We’ll tell them everything on Sunday when they call,” her grandmother said.
    Both grandparents looked at Polly, and then at each other, unhappily.
     
    The morning passed without incident. Polly spent an hour with her grandmother in the lab, till her toes grew too cold. Then she went to her room, to sit at her desk and write out responses to some of the questions her grandmother had asked her. She found it unusually difficult to concentrate. At last she shut her notebook and went downstairs. It was time for a brisk walk before lunch.
    She had promised not to walk across the field to the woods and the star-watching rock, so she walked along the dirt road the house faced. Originally it had been one of the early post roads, but with the changing of demographics it was now only a lane. The garage led to a paved road, with farms above, a few dwellings below. The lane wandered along, past pastures, groves, bushes. It was a pleasant place to walk, and Polly ambled along, picking an assortment of flowering autumn weeds.
    When she got home, Dr. Louise had called to say that she had an emergency and would not be able to get away for dinner. Could they come the next day? Nase very much wanted to be with Polly on Thursday.
    Thursday came, crisp and beautiful. The autumn days were perfect, blue and gold, with more and more leaves falling. Polly worked with her grandfather in the morning, studying some advanced mathematics. Around eleven he took off for town to get his chainsaw sharpened, and her grandmother as usual was in the lab.
    She walked to the end of the lane and back. A little over a mile. Then she crossed the field to the stone wall. She would go no farther than that.