Who Is Frances Rain? by Margaret Buffie Page B

other stuff back again?” I asked. “And the moss?”
    â€œNot going to dig around anymore?”
    â€œMaybe later,” I said. “Right now, I want to sort out what happened to me here.”
    He nodded. It took us a while to put everything back, but when we were through only the dark outlines around the moss patches showed that anyone had been mucking around.
    â€œWhere’s the glasses?” he asked.
    â€œIn my pocket.”
    â€œPut them on now. While I’m here.”
    â€œAre you nuts?” I backed away.
    â€œLet me try them, then.” He put out a hand.
    I had to laugh out loud when he put them on. “You look like an old-fashioned bank clerk. All you need is a stiff collar and cuffs.”
    â€œThanks. A dull and boring clerk? How can I get into the spirit of things with you giggling? Spirit of things. Get it?”
    I couldn’t help a few more snickers at the frowning face behind the silly little glasses. He turned slowly around. Then he pushed them down and looked at me over the rims.
    â€œHow long did it take you to see something?”
    â€œAlmost right away. The first time, the whole place turned to autumn colours. The second time, it was spring. See anything?”
    He squinted. “Nothing. Zilch.” He took them off. “Zero, darn it. How come you get to see things and I don’t?”
    â€œâ€˜Cause you’re not crazy.”
    â€œMust be that,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Loony Lizzie. Sad story indeed.”
    I was angry until I saw the wicked smile. “You poor thing. You’re just jealous, that’s all.”
    â€œCome on, now I’m here, you don’t have to be afraid.”
    â€œBut I
am
afraid. Maybe if we stood away from the cabin. Down by the shore. I wouldn’t bump into anyone. What do you think?”
    â€œWhat if you put them on right here, in the middle of the cabin? Maybe you’d be inside it.”
    â€œAnd what if I can’t get out?” I shivered.
    â€œOkay, let’s move over here. Will you try it?”
    â€œOkay. But only if you stay close by.”
    He grinned. “My pleasure.”
    Flustered, I stumbled towards a row of pine, leaned against a tree and put the glasses up to my eyes.
    â€œSee anything?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNow?”
    All I saw was the sunken site ahead, the cool green light, the pile of gear, and the sparkling lake.
    â€œHow about now? Am I here, for instance?”
    â€œYes, you are. And stop waving your hand in front of my eyes. It makes me dizzy.”
    He ran to the cabin and waved. “Now? Not even the cabin?”
    â€œNope.” I wasn’t sure whether to feel glad or disappointed. I put the glasses in my pocket. “Funny, huh? Maybe I am nutso.”
    He shrugged. “It’s like seances, poltergeists and stuff like that. Bring in another person and nothing happens. Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen before. Let’s go to your place. I’ll beg dinner off Terry. We’ll think things over on the way to my place. Hey, we could ask Harv about Frances Rain.”
    â€œNo kidding? That’s a great idea. We can pick his brain.”
    â€œPicking old Harv’s brain may take some doing, but it’s worth a try. After dinner, you can use Terry’s boat to tow me back to the truck and then you’ll have a boat to come back home in. That damn motor of mine is ready for the dust heap.”
    As we floated away from the island, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever see Frances again. Maybe the glasses had lost their ability to look into the past. I felt a strange sort of ache at the thought of not seeing her or the girl again.
    I needn’t have worried. Frances and I had a long way to go.

Chapter Twenty-One
    â€œYOUR family’s like a bunch of porcupines,” Alex said, bumping his truck around the deepest potholes on the dirt road. “Very prickly. What’s