A Leap of Faith (The Hands of Time: Book 2)

by Irina Shapiro

  Louisa stopped and looked up at the leaden sky before sticking out her tongue and catching a few snowflakes. They tasted fresh and cold, making her feel like a kid again. This was her first Christmas in the seventeenth century, and it was vastly different from anything she was used to. Finn and little Louisa decorated the front room with boughs of pine, but there was no Christmas tree or any other ornaments.

  Christmas was a solemn occasion marked only by a church service and a meal. Anything considered frivolous was strongly discouraged by the Church. Louisa had remembered reading somewhere that the Christmas tree tradition didn’t actually come to North America until the nineteenth century, when a picture of Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, and their children appeared in a newspaper depicting the royal family standing around a decorated tree. Prince Albert had brought the tradition to England from his native Germany, where the practice had begun as early as the sixteenth century. It was said that Martin Luther had been the first person to bring a fir tree into his house, and decorate it with candles to mimic the beauty of the forest and stars. Louisa sorely missed decorating the tree and singing Christmas carols, but she had to get used to the way things were done in the here and now, and foregoing the tree was the least of her concerns.

  Louisa hoped that Alec would come down for Christmas Eve dinner. He’d been ill since his last trip into Jamestown a week before. There was an epidemic of influenza going around, no doubt worsened by the lack of hygiene and close living conditions. Alec frequently stopped into the pub for a tankard of ale, and Louisa couldn’t help wondering if the barkeep ever bothered to wash the tankards between customers. Valerie had quarantined Alec as soon as he began running a fever to protect the rest of the household, and went about trying to heal him.

  Louisa had been fascinated with Valerie’s arsenal of medicines. She looked up some holistic remedies while planning her trip to the past, but this was an education. Valerie kept a special wooden casket on the highest shelf of the scullery containing her “pharmacy,” which she was proud to show her sister. There were linen strips for binding wounds, emetics for inducing vomiting in case of ingesting something poisonous, purgatives for moving bowels, and poultices for irritations and burns. There was even a small jar of laudanum. Louisa looked away from the jar of leeches, suddenly feeling queasy at the sight of the slimy creatures. Luckily for Alec, he had been spared that particular remedy. Valerie made an infusion of willow bark several times a day to bring down the fever and applied mustard plaster to Alec’s chest and back.

  “Where did you learn that?” Louisa asked her sister, intrigued.

  “I learned a lot of things from Bridget. Her mother and grandmother were real country women, familiar with the medicinal properties of herbs and plants. Aunt Lottie was also quite proficient. She taught me about cupping.” Valerie showed Louisa a dozen small jars neatly arranged in the corner of the chest. “Cupping is good for bronchitis and pneumonia. It stimulates the flow of blood and draws out the infection. It’s surprisingly effective.”

  “How does it work?” Louisa picked up a small jar and held it up for closer inspection. She couldn’t imagine how an empty jar could stimulate or draw out anything.

  “You have to use fire. A lit taper will do. You insert the lit taper into the jar, heat it up, then immediately place on the patient’s back. The heat creates suction, which in turn stimulates the blood.”

  “God Val, that sounds positively barbaric. Alec lets you do this?” Louisa put the jar back, eyeing it with distaste.

  “Oh, it doesn’t hurt at all. It’s kind of nice actually. It just makes you feel warm. Alec doesn’t mind. He hates being sick.”

  “I think he probably just enjoys you fussing over him,” Louisa giggled. “You haven’t been paying much attention to the poor man since Kit and I showed up.”

  “Oh, he gets his share of attention.” Valerie took out a piece of willow bark and a jar of mustard paste and closed the lid of the casket. “I make sure of that. In either case, these are the only types of medicine available to me, and I leave nothing to chance. You know what the mortality rate is these days. Any slight fever or scratch can turn into something deadly. Poor Alec nearly had a heart attack the first time I used some of his French brandy to disinfect a cut. He’s used to my eccentricity by now. He hides the brandy though, and leaves me the cheap stuff.”

  Louisa followed Valerie into the kitchen to make the willow bark infusion. “What about Agnes? Will she be all right, do you think?” Agnes was frequently on Louisa’s mind as her time drew near.

  Valerie shrugged. “She is young and healthy, and the baby seems to have turned and moved into position for birth, according to Bridget. She is as knowledgeable as any midwife in the twenty-first century. She’ll do everything in her power to assist Agnes, but there is only so much even a doctor can do.” Louisa knew she was thinking of baby Alex and dropped the subject. Valerie still went to the little cemetery nearly every day, leaving a bunch of wildflowers or a sprig of holly on the tiny grave.

  Louisa filled the can with fresh butter and closed the door of the spring house behind her. She’d heard about Cora’s death and was always a little wary entering the place. She turned her steps back toward the house. The snow was falling faster now, the flakes illuminated by the feeble rays of the setting sun. It would be dark within the hour. Nearly all the windows of the house were aglow with candlelight, shadows visible from time to time as the family prepared for their holiday meal. Everyone would be there except for Charles, who sailed to England on the Gloriana.

  Louisa saw Kit emerge from the stables and gave him a wave. He was doing all of Alec’s chores while Valerie kept him in bed. Kit waved back and came toward her. “Let me,” he said, as he took the can from Louisa’s cold hand.

  “It’s not heavy,” she slipped her hand inside his to warm it.

  “I know, but your hands are cold.” Kit pulled up Louisa’s hood, kissing the tip of her nose. “You’ll catch your death out here.”

  “Oh, how you fuss,” she answered happily, smiling up at him. “Alec might be joining us for dinner. Valerie says he hasn’t had a fever since yesterday.”

  “That’s good news. I almost wish I’d gotten a touch of the catarrh to get that kind of attention from my own wife.” Kit gave her a wicked grin and drew her to him as they trudged through the newly fallen snow.

  Louisa found many things difficult to adjust to in this primitive, rugged life. She often dreamed of working on a painting at the museum, or driving a car while singing along to the radio. Just last night, she’d dreamed of walking down Fifth Avenue at dusk, admiring the exquisite Christmas windows, colored lights making ordinary things appear magical. She tried to hold on to the dream for a few moments after waking up, reluctant to let the image go.

  Things that she had taken for granted now seemed like unimaginable luxuries, real only in her and Valerie’s memory. When alone, they often talked of their old life, reminiscing about things and people they missed. Louisa still hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Kit the truth about her past, but she would eventually. With Valerie and Alec to back up her story, he was less likely to think that his wife had escaped from Bedlam.

  Louisa gazed at the golden light spilling from the windows of the house and smiled. The warmth she’d found at Rosewood Manor more than made up for the harsh reality. Some days, she still couldn’t believe that only a year ago she was bereaved and alone, contemplating the mad idea of going in search of Valerie, and here she was; reunited with her sister and married to a wonderful man. Valerie routinely referred to her as “Lady Sheridan” as a joke, but Louisa secretly liked the title. Lady Sheridan indeed, she thought to herself, grinning.

  “Come, Lord Sheridan,” she said laughing. “I think you need a bath before supper. You reek of horses and worse.”

  “Makes it more authentic. After all, our Lord was born in a manger.”

  “You are not our Lord. Now off with you.” Louisa gave Kit a push toward the stairs, and went to
bring the butter to Mrs. Dolly. Something called “Christmas Pudding” smelled heavenly, making her mouth water. Christmas tree or no Christmas tree, this was going to be the best Christmas ever.

  Virginia 1622

  Epilogue

  Louisa spread a blanket beneath the shady canopy of a maple tree in front of the house and sat down, gently setting baby Dotty next to her. Dottie was too intent on chewing the tail of Finn’s wooden horse to pay much attention to her surroundings. She gripped the toy with both hands, trying to get a bigger bite. She was at the stage where she pulled everything into her mouth. Louisa wiped the drool from her face and adjusted her bonnet. She usually took Dotty on Agnes’ afternoons off to allow Agnes to spend time with Richard Squires. The couple was to be married after harvest, since both Alec and Kit agreed to terminate their indenture contracts to allow the newlyweds to start a new life. Richard had been a carpenter in Cornwall, and intended to open up his own workshop in Jamestown after the wedding. Louisa was happy for Agnes, but she would miss Dottie. She had grown attached to the little girl and would miss spending time with her.

  Louisa hoped that Kit would be back from Trinidad in time for the wedding. She had asked Reverend Blackley to officiate, since both the bride and groom were Protestant. Louisa visited Anne Blackley at least once a month, but the Blackleys were leaving also. The reverend intended to go to a settlement further west where a clergyman was needed. Anne supported her husband’s decision, and looked forward to the new place. All in all, she was doing remarkably well. Anne would never fully recover from her ordeal, but she seemed happy with the reverend and had actually grown fond of him. Louisa had no idea if they ever consummated their marriage, but it didn’t matter. They both seemed content with the arrangement, and that was a good thing all around.

  Louisa thought of contentment and smiled. She couldn’t wait for Kit to get back. They had been married for just over two years, but she still missed him like a new bride every time he went away. Absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder. She thought of how happy Kit would be when she told him her news.

  They had been trying to conceive since they came to Rosewood Manor, but month after month went by without results. Louisa suspected that Kit blamed himself for her failure to get pregnant. Helena never got with child, so Kit just assumed that the fault lay with him. Louisa knew he was tormented with guilt at not being able to give her the baby she wanted, and that made her news all the sweeter. She suspected she was pregnant before he left a few weeks ago, but she wanted to be sure. According to Bridget, she was almost three months gone and would be in the second trimester by the time Kit returned. Louisa smiled, imagining his joy when he heard the news.

  Her reverie was interrupted by the arrival of Valerie, who plopped down on the blanket and pulled Dottie onto her lap, wiping her face with the hem of her gown and giving her a kiss. “I’m going to miss her,” Valerie said wistfully. “She is such an angel. I miss having a baby around the house. Guess I’ll have to wait to spoil yours. I bet you can’t wait to tell Kit.”

  “I wish he was coming home today,” answered Louisa, reclining on the blanket. “I miss him madly.”

  “Lou, if you had to do it over again, would you still follow me back in time?” Valerie asked, snatching her finger away from Dottie’s teeth.

  “Yes, only if I knew how well it would all work out, I wouldn’t have been so scared. What about you, Val? If you knew then what you know now, would you still turn the hands on that clock?” Louisa peered at her sister, knowing her answer already.

  “I would. It’s funny, but I’ve been able to find here that which always eluded me in my own time. Seems you’ve found it too. Now all you have to do is tell your husband that you came from 2012,” giggled Valerie. “Tell him right after you tell him that you’re expecting. He might attribute it to pregnancy hormones and not think you’re insane.”

  “Thanks for the advice, Sis. I think I’ll hold off. He never asks about the past, so why bring it up? Why burden him with things he can’t understand? It’s not like we are going back to the future.”

  “No, it’s not. But what if we could?”

  The End

  An excerpt from “A World Apart”:

  The Hands of Time: Book 3.

  Prologue

  October 2012

  Weak rays of autumn sunshine filtered through the shop windows, dust motes twirling lazily in the shafts of light, settling onto the scuffed floor. The wooden counter reflected the sun, being the only object left in the empty room. Just yesterday, Hugh Sanders had his men crate up the inventory and remove it to his own shop in Plymouth. He rubbed his hands with pleasure, congratulating himself on the low price he paid for the lot. Only patches of unfaded wallpaper remained where paintings had hung for years, and scratches on the floor bore testament to pieces of antique furniture that crowded the small showroom.

  Frederick Taylor looked around the empty room before closing the door behind him for the last time. By next week, this place would be an internet café, or yet another gift shop. He’d stop by the estate agent’s and drop off the keys before taking himself out for a leisurely breakfast. After that, he’d be on his way. He’d spend a few days in London, as planned, then catch a flight to the States. He had some unfinished business in Colonial Virginia; business that he’d put off for way too long.

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