A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) (3 page)

Valerie pressed her point as she saw Louisa waver in her resolve to let Mr. Taylor stay.  The more she thought about the possibility of going back to the future, the more impossible it seemed.
  There would be countless obstacles to overcome, if they even managed to get that far.

“Lou, h
ow would we establish identities for people for whom there’s no record of being born?  You need social security numbers and picture ID’s to get a job or a driver’s license.  How would we be able to ease Alec and Kit into modern society at their age without any kind of proof of existence?”  Valerie twisted her hands in agitation.  Was it possible?  Would the men even consider it?

Louisa sat down slowly,
transferring Evie from her shoulder onto her lap as she considered Valerie’s argument.  She closed her eyes for a moment, her expression one of fatigue and uncertainty.  Not even the gentle sunshine could erase the deep shadows under her eyes.  Valerie knew that Louisa dreaded telling Kit the truth.  At first, she’d been afraid of his reaction, but as time went by, she feared that he would feel betrayed by her lack of faith in him.  It was wiser not to bring it up.  After all, there’d been no point until today.  Louisa finally opened her eyes and met Valerie’s searching gaze.

“I haven’t actually thought about any of that. 
There’s so much to consider.  I can’t even begin to imagine how Kit would react to the truth.  He’s never asked me too many questions.  I think he’s afraid of the answers.  Would you want to go back if Alec agreed?” 

“
Honestly, I haven’t thought of going back since I married Finlay.  I knew it was impossible, so I put it out of my mind.  I’d kill for a pair of jeans and some Chinese food, but that’s not reason enough to uproot everyone.  We have a good life here, despite some issues.  Every age has its problems though.  Alec’s place is here.  Finding himself in a world he doesn’t understand might crush his spirit.  Of course, it would open up a world of opportunity for the children.  Oh, Lou, this is such a difficult thing to contemplate.  I didn’t think I’d ever have to make this choice.”  Valerie paced the porch in her agitation.  Her earlier concerns about Finn seemed almost trivial compared to the question at hand.

“Val, let’s not say anything to the men yet.  Let’s think about it. We can just tell them that Mr. Taylor is someone I knew in the past, which is true.  He can stay for a day or two while we consider all the angles.  Surely, there’s no harm in that?”

Valerie gazed at her sister, unable to refuse.  She could understand Louisa’s feelings.  Lou had only been in the past for two years, so her memories of modern life were still vivid.  She seemed genuinely happy with Kit and besotted with her new baby, but the memories of modern conveniences and especially medicine were often on her mind.  Now that she had a baby, she fretted about the lack of vaccinations and antibiotics, and had a panic attack every time Evie so much as sneezed.  Valerie remembered only too well how she felt for the first few years, comparing everything to the life she left behind and making a conscious choice every day to accept her situation and move forward.  There had been no choice.  It was either sink or swim, and she’d never been one to give up without a fight.  Now, suddenly, there was a choice, and she had no right to take it away from Louisa without giving her ample time to consider and consult her husband.  Valerie couldn’t begin to imagine Kit’s reaction to the news, but if Louisa was willing to take the chance, Valerie had to stand by her.

“All right.  We’ll let him stay, but let’s not say
anything to Alec and Kit until we figure out how we feel.  I’m too overwhelmed right now to make any decision, one way or the other.  Come back inside with me.”  Valerie walked back into the house, conscious of Louisa trailing behind her.

Frederick Taylor sat staring at the doorway, no doubt waiting for them to return.  His face was a mask of misery
; his rheumy eyes filled with sadness.  “Valerie, Louisa, I am so sorry for the trouble I’ve caused. Once again, I seem to have blundered.  I thought I would be doing something good and kind by giving you the chance to return, but I seem to have caused you grief.  I’ll take my leave now.”  He reached for the satchel at his feet and made to rise, but Valerie stopped him, gesturing for him to sit back down.

“Mr. Taylor,
you haven’t blundered.  Your intentions were obviously good, but you must realize that a decision like this is not made on a whim.  We have to discuss it among ourselves and then present it to the men.  Anything we decide would affect a number of people, not just the two of us.  We have family to consider and the people who work in the house and on the land.  Why don’t you stay with us for a few days while we think about it?  We have a spare room in the attic.  Unless you have other commitments someplace else.” 

“That’s good of you, Valerie.  My sole purpose in coming here was to see you both, so I’m entirely at your disposal for as long as you like.  I would be happy to stay in the spare room until you come to a decision.  Just tell me what you want me to
tell your husbands, and I will comply.  Thank you for not turning me away.” 

The relief in the old man’s face was so obvious that Valerie felt a bit guilty for being so harsh with him earlier.  He only wanted to
atone for his mistakes.  It took courage for him to come here, so she had to give him credit for it.  Deep down, she knew what her decision would be, but what could it hurt to let the man stay for a few days?

Finn had lost track of the time.  He usually left in time to get home for supper, but this time the braves brought another friend with them,
making the afternoon more enjoyable.  The new friend was called something completely unpronounceable, but he spoke more English than the others and told Finn his name meant Moose.  He was a few years older than the others and more familiar with the ways of whites.  Moose was able to translate what the others were saying, allowing Finn to converse more freely.  He discovered that the Indians had a sense of humor and liked to tease each other good-naturedly about their shortcomings.  Moose informed Finn that Thunder got his name from farting so loudly, which left the others choking and snorting with laughter. 

“What does your name mean, Pale Face?”  Mo
ose asked, passing Finn the pipe. 

“It doesn’t really mean anything.  I was named after my father,
” Finn answered, inhaling the fragrant smoke and attempting to blow smoke rings like the Indians.

“We should give you an Indian name.  What are your talents?”  Mo
ose studied him intently.  “Maybe we should name you “Chaste One”.  You’ve obviously never had a woman.”  The boys began to giggle again, making Finn blush furiously. 

“And how would you know?  Are you so experienced?”  Finn retorted
, trying to hide his embarrassment. 

“I don’t
know what “experienced” means, but if you’re asking me if I’ve been with girls, the answer is yes.  Besides, I believe you’ve met my wife, Sokanon.  You, my friend, still have mother’s milk on your lips.”  He patted Finn affectionately.  “Do not worry.  We will fix that problem.  I know just the girl for you.  You come to our village, and I will personally make the introduction.”  Moose winked at the others, who nodded in unison, grinning and making noises of approval.

Finn wasn’t sure if Mo
ose was joking or not, so he decided to change the subject.  “I am a proficient hunter.  Give me a name to do with that.  I’d like an Indian name.”

“Pale Face, I name you Megedaqik.  It means “
Kills many” in our tongue.  Here, take this as a symbol of our friendship.”  Moose took off his amulet and put it around Finn’s neck.  It was some kind of bluish stone, surrounded by feathers on a leather thong.  Finn felt his chest swell with pride at such an honor.  He’d never take it off. 

“Thank you.  I will be proud to wear it.”  The braves clapped Finn on the back in approval, calling him by his new name
and giving him a turn at the pipe.  “Kills many” might sound unflattering in English, but in the language of the braves it was synonymous with bravery and great skill at tracking and hunting.

“Oh, God.  I hav
e to go.”  Finn jumped to his feet and walked off after saying his goodbyes.  It wouldn’t do to tell the Indians that his mother would be upset with him if he was late for supper.  Their mothers treated them like men, not little boys to be scolded and lectured.  As a matter of fact, most of the braves were already married, and not living with their mothers at all.

Finn
had a long walk ahead of him, but he hardly noticed the miles.  He was still basking in his friends’ approval, fingering the amulet around his neck.  He wished he could visit their village and see things for himself.  Would they really find him a girl?  Finn tried to envision himself in the embrace of some beautiful, dark-skinned girl, naked on a pile of skins.  Her silky hair would brush his chest as she kissed him, her eyes reflecting the flames of the fire burning in the longhouse.  In his mind, the girl was Sokanon, despite being married to Moose, only this time, she wasn’t giggling.  She was moaning with pleasure, her body warm and willing under his.  Finn tried to imagine what it would be like to actually make love to her, but there his imagination failed him.  He groaned with frustration at his limited knowledge.

**

Finn tiptoed up the steps and turned the handle as quietly as possible.  He could hear the hum of conversation coming from the dining room, including a voice he didn’t recognize.  To walk in right now would only annoy his parents, so the best thing to do would be to make himself scarce and then raid the kitchen for leftovers later.  Mrs. Dolly usually made enough food to have some left over for the midday meal of the following day, so there would be plenty.  He’d stop by Minnie’s room in the meantime and leave her the bracelet he traded from the Indians.  It was made of some kind of smooth beads in different colors.  Maybe she’d like it so much that she’d be willing to give him a kiss of thanks. 

Finn fingered the bracelet in his pocket, enjoying the
smoothness of the stones.  He’d brought something similar back for his sister once, and she wore it all the time, hiding it under her cuff.  He’d show Louisa his amulet once she got back from Charlie’s house.  She might not appreciate its significance, but she’d think it pretty and admire it.  Maybe he’d show it to Minnie as well in the hopes of impressing her. 

Finn crept up the stairs to the attic
, careful not to make too much noise.  Minnie would still be in the kitchen helping Mrs. Dolly, but he would just leave the bracelet on her pillow.  She would be pleasantly surprised when she finally came up later, tired and ready for her bed.  The landing was normally dark, but tonight a single candle burned on a small table between the two bedrooms.  That was unusual.  Minnie brought up a candle when she came up.  To leave a candle burning for hours was wasteful and unnecessary, according to Mrs. Dolly, who kept a tight rein on the household supplies.

The door to Minnie’s room was closed, but the one to Amelia’s old room was
slightly ajar.  No one had occupied that room since Amelia hanged herself two years ago, fearing her ghost still walked at night, unable to rest after killing her lover.  But now there was a leather satchel by the foot of the bed, a curly wig on the nightstand, and some odd object next to the pitcher and ewer.  Finn inched into the room, looking around.  He didn’t believe in ghosts, but this room still made him shiver with apprehension.  He hoped their guest didn’t believe in restless spirits.  He must be staying the night.  Finn smirked at the wig, pushing it aside with one finger.  He thought wigs were the height of stupidity, making middle-aged men look foolish beyond words.  He was glad his father and Kit never bothered with wigs.  They simply tied their hair back, which was a lot manlier in his opinion. 

Finn picked up the object from the nightstand and turned it over in his hands.  He’d never seen anything like it before.  It was made of a strange material, not wood and not leather.  The
piece in the center was hard, but the two straps on the side were firm, yet flexible.  Finn stepped onto the landing to get better light from the candle. 
What is this thing?
he wondered as he held the object to his face.  The square part in the middle had a clear strip of some sort with little numbers below it.  Was it a new kind of abacus?  The only reason to have numbers was to add them, but how did this work?  Finn noticed “On” inscribed on one of the tiny squares and pressed it.  The strip at the top lit up with a greenish light, as if several light bugs were trapped inside.  This was curious indeed.  He’d try to press the little squares and see what happened.  This week Finn had caught seventeen rabbits, seven possums, and five foxes.  He punched in 1775 and stared at the object.  The number showed in the green strip, but nothing seemed to happen. 

Suddenly, Finn felt a wave of dizziness as the hallway around him
tilted, then went dark.  He had just enough time to drop the object on the table next to the candle before slumping to the floor. 
Serves you right for interfering with things you don’t understand
, thought Finn as he got to his feet a moment later, rubbing his head.  He looked for the object, but he couldn’t see it in the darkness.  The candle must have gone out, although he hadn’t noticed it guttering.  Finn felt a sudden thirst.  He’d just go to the kitchen and have a cup of water.  If Minnie was there, he’d give her the bracelet in person, which was even better since he’d be able to see her reaction.  Finn skipped down the stairs, happy with this new idea.  Why creep about in the dark when he could just present Minnie with her present?  She’d be pleased as punch. 

The door to the dining room was now closed, but there were voices
coming from the parlor.  Had they finished supper so quickly?  He must have come in later than he thought.  Finn hoped Mrs. Dolly saved him some food.  He hadn’t eaten since he met the Indians by the waterfall, sharing some flat bread and smoked meat that his friends brought for their midday meal.  But that was hours ago, and Finn’s stomach was beginning to growl in anticipation of food. 

Finn peeked into the room and felt
the blood grow cold in his veins.  The parlor looked completely different than it had that morning.  Nothing was the same.  Even his mother’s portrait over the hearth was gone.  A man sat on the settee facing away from Finn, but he wasn’t his father or Kit.  Was that the guest?  Finn looked deeper into the room.  A young woman sat reading by candelabra.  Her auburn curls were covered by a lacy cap; her hand held protectively over her bulging belly as candlelight reflected off her gold wedding ring.  Who was she and where was everyone?  Had his father and Kit brought new furnishings from the docks?  This was terribly odd.  Finn turned and walked toward the kitchen.  He’d ask Mrs. Dolly what was what. 

The woman who turned from the oven was short and squat, but most of all, she was black.  A
red kerchief was wrapped around her kinky black hair, tied at the top with points sticking out.  Her eyes grew huge in her glistening face as she spotted Finn in the doorway. 

“Who are you?” Finn asked confused.  “Where’s Mrs. Dolly?”

“I be Bertha the cook, young master, and who you be?”  The woman looked taken aback, her hand reaching for the rolling pin in alarm as if she were planning to strike him with it. 

“I’m Finn.  Where are my parents?” Finn looked around, suddenly noticing that things didn’t look quite the same.  What was going on?  Another black woman walked into the kitchen, carrying a tea
tray.  She was younger and prettier than the cook, but there was a marked resemblance between the two women.  Maybe they were mother and daughter. 
Kit must have bought slaves in the West Indies
, Finn thought.  That was the only explanation.  But why would he acquire Negro slaves?  That just wasn’t the thing.  And where were Mrs. Dolly and Minnie?

Finn never got a chance to pursue that thought because the woman from the parlor walked into the kitchen
.  She looked around in confusion before her eyes lit on Finn, and she let out a horrible shriek.  “Intruder!!!” she yelled as the man came charging into the kitchen, his eyes wild and fists clenched.  He pushed his wife behind him for protection as if Finn would attack the woman.

“Who are you, boy?” he roared, “and what are you doing in my house?”  The man was advancing on him, backing him into a corner.  “What’s your business here?”

“I’m ssorry,” Finn stammered as he tried to back away.  His mind was reeling.  Where were his parents and Louisa and Kit?  Where was baby Evie?

“Get out before I have you whipped,” the man
bellowed, grabbing Finn by the arm and dragging him to the back door.  He pushed him savagely into the night, slamming the door behind him, and leaving Finn on the ground, shocked and confused.  Finn rose to his feet and walked a short distance away from the house.  This was just some kind of hallucination.  The Indians occasionally took something that caused such things.  Had they slipped him something as a joke?  Everything would be back to normal in the morning.  Finn turned toward the barn.  He’d just sleep there tonight and let this strange feeling pass.

**

Finn looked around.  The barn should be to his left, and still was, but the structure he saw was much larger than their barn.  He heard the soft bleating of sheep and the lowing of cows, but dared not enter.  This wasn’t their barn.  Finn turned toward the shed where he kept his loot.  There was nothing there, but there was another outbuilding further away from the house that hadn’t been there that morning.  Finn began to shake, sweat breaking out on his forehead.  He turned toward the house and promptly vomited into the grass.  The house looked utterly different.  It had been made entirely of wood with black shutters, but now the façade was made of red brick, the shutters a ghostly white in the moonlight.  Finn turned and ran into the woods, panting, and clutching his heaving stomach.  He was shaking all over, praying to God that he was just having some strange reaction to something he ate or smoked.  Everything would be all right in the morning.  Everything would be fine.  He would just sleep it off.  Everything would be back to normal.  He kept repeating it like a mantra as he fell into a dreamless sleep under a tree, curled into a fetal position, his hatchet in hand.