Your Time, My Time by Ann Walsh

Author:Ann Walsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV016180
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2009-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The voice startled both of them. Steve jumped to his feet, a look of panic on his face. “It’s my mother,” he said. “What are we going to do?”

This was something they hadn’t planned on. No one except Steve had ever come to the 1870 graveyard while Elizabeth was there, and they were unprepared for dealing with a visitor. They looked at each other for a few seconds, wondering how to handle the situation. “I’ll go,” said Elizabeth and picked up the blanket and pulled off her other mitt so she could turn the ring.

“No. Please don’t go yet. You’ve only just arrived, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Stay.”

Elizabeth thought quickly. “I could come back when she’s gone,” she said.

“But how will you know when she’s gone? In your time you can’t see her. You might come back when she’s still here and that would frighten both of you. Besides I’d like you to see my mother, even if you can’t meet her.”

He picked up her backpack. “Here. The snow is deep enough so that if you crouch down behind a gravestone she won’t notice you.” As quickly as he could in the deep snow he led the way to Chartres Brew’s grave. “Mother is coming to visit Amy’s grave, I’m sure. It’s over in the other corner. Just stay here and be still and she won’t notice you. I’ll get her to go home as quickly as I can.”

Elizabeth scooped a small hollow in the snow behind the headstone and settled herself down. “Okay. I’ll wait. But I feel like a criminal or something. Just call me ‘Bess the Burglar’.”

Steve smiled, then turned and made his way to the graveyard gate. “I’m over here, Mother,” he called.

Cautiously, Elizabeth peered over the top of the headstone. Steve was walking towards a woman in a long dress which she lifted slightly in front of her with one hand, trying to keep it out of the snow. Her blonde hair was partly covered by a long shawl which her other hand grasped tightly at her chest. She did not wear a coat, and her hands were bare, as if she’d left home without dressing properly for the long walk.

“Steven?” Her voice was low, but carried clearly across the deserted graveyard. “Steven, I thought you would be here.” Steve reached her and she took his arm, looking up at him. She was a short woman, and very slender.

Steve must get his height from his father’s side of the family, Elizabeth thought. She watched as the two of them walked towards the far side of the graveyard.

“You have been to visit Amy’s grave again, haven’t you Steven?” Although her voice was gentle she seemed to be reproaching him. “You come here nearly every Sunday, my son. Can you not let go of the past and cease your mourning?”

They had made their way slowly to a small grave with a wooden cross at its head. As they stood beside it, Steve put his arm around his mother’s shoulders.

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