Who Is Frances Rain? by Margaret Buffie

you’d be ready to come over by now, so she made you her first pies of the season. Fresh this morning.” He sounded almost eager, and I guess he heard it too because he shrugged and said, “It’s up to you. Makes no difference to me.”
    â€œOkay. Sounds good. Will you pick me up?”
    â€œYeah. I gotta get Harv too. He gets worked up if he misses out on May’s first blueberry pie.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œWell, I guess I’d better get a move on,” he said.
    â€œYeah. Okay.”
    But he kept hanging on to the canoe.
    â€œSo did you find anything to bring home from your dig?”
    â€œNo. I  Suddenly I remembered what I’d left behind. “Oh no! I forgot my tape recorder and my sketchbook and ... and 
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œOn the island. I can’t go back,” I cried. “I’ve gotta go back. Oh no!”
    â€œYou sound like your tape recorder got stuck in rewind,” he laughed.
    â€œI left everything ... you know ... when I saw ... it was ... I’ve got to get my stuff. What if it rains? No, I’ll leave it. But I can’t.” I felt like pulling my hair out. I began to backpaddle away but he held on.
    â€œDid something scare you off the island? Is that it?”
    â€œI’ve got to get back,” I said, poking at the edge of his boat with my paddle. “Let go! I’ve got to —”
    Still he hung on. “I’ll take you. We’ve drifted halfway down the lake. You’ll have a heck of a time paddling into this wind.”
    â€œI can do it. I’ve done it all my life. I know how to get around in a canoe, even if I am a dumb city person,” I snapped. “Let go, okay? Just let go.”
    â€œHave it your way. Just wanted to help,” he snapped back. “You’re running a close neck-and-neck race with Evan for pill of the year. I don’t know why I bother with you.”
    He let go of the canoe and gave it a little push. A gust of wind turned me around on a dime. I chewed my lip and stared at the now distant island. I couldn’t do it alone.

Chapter Twenty
    â€œALEX?”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œIf you have time, I guess I’d like that tow to the island.” I had to shout the last part as the wind carried me along.
    â€œI got time, I guess. City slicker.”
    He pulled close and we grinned at each other. I climbed into the boat while he tied the Beetle’s rope to the oarlock. The island was bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight. I sat on the tip of the bow, my feet dragging in the water, while he rowed. When we reached the island, I stuck my foot out to keep the boat from crunching into the landing rock, and for just a second was surprised not to see Frances’s dock. I shook my head. It was getting harder and harder to figure out what I was really seeing. Alex walked up the flat slope.
    â€œComing?”
    I stood rooted to the landing rock and nodded. In the distance I heard the sad cry of a loon. Alex walked back and stood in front of me. His long fingers wrapped around my chin and moved my head from side to side. I looked up.
    â€œGood. At least you’re not catatonic. Blink,” he demanded. I blinked. “Good, good. Now open your mouth and say something.”
    â€œWill you help me collect my stuff?” I croaked.
    â€œGood. Voice still functioning. What did you see here? A bear?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œA snake?”
    I sneered and shook my head.
    â€œOh, yeah, I forgot. You used to collect them. There’s only one thing left. Persons living or dead?”
    I nodded, then slumped down on the rock. He crouched beside me, arms resting on his knees.
    â€œIs it this ghost of Tim’s?”
    I nodded again.
    â€œA ghost? For real? Where?”
    â€œI saw her at the cabin site, at the dock, on the path,” I said softly.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œHer. Them.”
    â€œHer. You mean this Frances