Free A Handful of Time by Kit Pearson

know.”
    Rodney shrugged. “I think we’ve got enough fish now.” Ruth rowed in, but not to the Reids’ beach, as Patricia expected. Instead she steered to a wooded area near the point.
    â€œWe shouldn’t land here,” said Rodney uneasily. “It’s part of the Reserve.”
    â€œI don’t think the Indians would mind,” said Ruth. “And Mother and Father will never know.”
    She jumped out and in a few minutes had a small fire started in the sand; soon a dozen perch were sizzling over it. The smell was overwhelmingly tantalizing and Patricia was faced with a dilemma. She had to taste one of those crisp brown morsels, but how? She pictured Ruth and Rodney seeing a fish rise on its own out of the pan.
    Then she had an idea. Picking up a rock behind their backs, she threw it into the water. When they turned their heads she snatched up a perch.
    â€œOuch!” cried Patricia. Her burnt fingers dropped the fish into the sand. She brushed it off and crammed it into her mouth before the others turned around.
    â€œWhat was that?”
    â€œA fish jumped, I guess,” shrugged Rodney.
    â€œNo, it was a duck or something. I heard it call, didn’t you?”
    Rodney shook his head as he divided up the fish. “You ate one!” he accused her.
    â€œNo, I didn’t!”
    â€œYou must have. There’s only eleven and we cleaned twelve.”
    â€œYou probably counted wrong,” said Ruth, gobbling up her share of the fish as fast as they cooled.
    T HEY ARRIVED BACK at the cottage in time for breakfast. “Ruth Reid, just look at you!” scolded her mother.
    Ruth’s hands and face were smeared with butter and soot; sand, blood and scales caked her clothes. “Rodney looks just as bad,” she muttered.
    Patricia cringed, expecting the same outburst as yesterday. But today Pat Reid’s voice was simply irritated.
    â€œRodney is a boy. You’re a girl—too old to be acting like a hoyden. Now clean up quickly and help me with breakfast.”
    Patricia had her own breakfast in the kitchen, after she found cookies and fruit in a large pantry—the room that was the bathroom in the present. She had found out what they did without a bathroom when she heard Pat Reid sending Ginnie to the outhouse.
    After breakfast Patricia walked to the Main Beach with Ruth and Ginnie. She remembered Aunt Ginnie saying how much Ruth must have resented taking her there every day. Sure enough, a sulky expression was on Ruth’s face.
    There were no swimming lessons going on, but the raft and pier were the same and the sand was even more crowded with families. The women were dressed in bunchy cotton bathing suits and they all wore caps in the water.
    Patricia dozed in the sun and listened to the ring of metal upon metal that came from a group of men throwing horseshoes at a pole. A cairn terrier approached her and sniffed suspiciously. It cocked its head, puzzled that there was no body to match the smell.
    Patricia shivered as it ran away. What an odd sensation it was both to be and not to be here. She wondered how much time she had left.
    Maybe she didn’t have to wait for the watch to run down; maybe she could rewind it now and stay longer. Her fingers twisted the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. Alarmed that she’d broken it, Patricia held the gold disk to her ear, but it ticked on reassuringly. The knob must be stuck, or maybe it only moved after the ticking stopped. She would have to wait until then and try again.
    Now she began to dread the shock of being whisked back. Then a boy who was talking to Ruth distracted her.
    â€œWhere are your brothers?” he asked. He looked about Rodney’s age.
    â€œPlaying badminton,” said Ruth. “They’re always playing badminton. If you want a game, Tom, they’ll be on the court until lunch.”
    â€œThat’s okay—I’d rather talk to you.” He sat down