Shattered Moments Read online

  Shattered Moments

  The Hands of Time: Book 5

  By

  Irina Shapiro

  © 2013 by Irina Shapiro

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the author.

  All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people (except those who are actual historical figures) are purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Notes

  Excerpt from The Inheritance

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  June 1626

  Virginia

  Chapter 1

  Alec gratefully shut the door on all the noise coming from downstairs; the squealing of children, the crashing of crockery from the kitchen, and the agitated voice of Valerie as she tried in vain to bring some order to the proceedings. Despite the addition, the house was still bursting at the seams, especially since Kit and Louisa were permanently in residence with their children, as well as Charles and Annabel. They’d lost their house in Jamestown to a cousin who inherited the estate on the death of Annabel’s brother, Tom. Annabel was still seething at the injustice of this, claiming that her son should have inherited, but the law didn’t quite see it that way. The entire estate went to Wesley Gaines, her father’s first cousin, who proved to be a closer male relative than a nephew. Wesley, who was a widower, offered to share the house with Charles and Annabel, but Annabel refused to stay, seeing the man as a usurper and a cheat, despite the fact that he did nothing wrong in the eyes of the law.

  Another pot went crashing to the floor as Cook’s piercing voice ordered Harry and Robbie out of the kitchen under the threat of being made to wash dishes. Alec smiled as he heard the stomping of feet and then the slamming of the door as the boys ran for their lives, probably to catch frogs at the pond, which was a favorite pastime. A wail promptly erupted as little Tom tried to follow, and was scooped up by Valerie and carried upstairs for his nap.

  Strangely, he couldn’t hear the girls, which was alarming. Evie was probably doing something unspeakable to poor Millicent, who went along with anything her older cousin wanted to do just to be a part of things. It had never been that chaotic when their own children were small, but then, there had only been the two of them, and they were further apart in age. The memory of Finn and Louisa as children cut through Alec like a knife, the pain of their loss still as fresh as ever. He prayed for Louisa’s soul every single day, and begged God to forgive him for not being a good enough father and not doing something to prevent the path that Louisa had chosen. Alec had no idea what would have happened had she survived Tom’s birth, but now both men who were at the heart of the tragedy were dead as well, the only reminder of that terrible time the little boy who regarded Alec and Valerie as his parents, too young to understand that his own parents were gone and that the scandal of his birth died with them.

  Alec thanked God that Finn was still alive, but not seeing him every day or being able even to write was agony, eased only by their sporadic visits to the future which they disguised from the rest of the family as visits to Finn’s grave. Everyone believed that Finn had been killed by Indians, so Alec and Valerie could never tell the truth, or share the joy of Finn’s marriage, or the birth of his lovely daughter the previous April. Alec longed to hold baby Diana in his arms and see her green eyes, so like Finn’s, peering at him, but he had to wait until the next time they were able to get away for a few days and visit their son. She’d probably be walking by then, and saying more than the few words she was babbling the last time they visited a few months ago.

  Alec glanced at the window to see if it was noon yet, then poured himself a tot of brandy despite the early hour. He deserved it, he reasoned with himself, simultaneously berating himself for being weak. He glanced at the accounting books and pushed them away in disgust, knowing that he couldn’t possibly face the numbers just yet. The plantation was doing very well, and the shipments from the Caribbean were supplementing their income nicely, especially since they started shipping cane liquor on the advice of Valerie and Louisa. They called it “rum” and promised that it would be a prized commodity once people got a taste for it. They were correct as usual; their knowledge infallible. Alec was just considering a refill when a knock on the door stayed his hand.

  “You wanted to see me, Uncle Alec?” Genevieve advanced into Alec’s office shyly, always conscious of her place within the family despite Alec’s frequent assurances that she had equal rights to everyone else. She still saw herself as the unwanted orphan, not the beloved niece and cousin who held a special place at the heart of the family. Having spent her young life at the convent of Loudun, she still couldn’t quite believe that her dream of finding her mother’s family had come true, and that her mother’s alleged suicide after her birth, which marked Genevieve as a bastard and a child of a sinner, had been disproved by her uncle, the slate wiped clean, and her mother’s remains now resting at the convent cemetery where she would have wished to be buried.

  Genevieve slowly advanced into the room, always expecting to be reprimanded as she had been at the convent, but Alec never had any cause to be stern. Genevieve was the sweetest, kindest girl, who dedicated her life to helping others, and making herself as useful as possible by helping with the children and pitching in with the chores.

  Alec wanted to speak with her about her future, but he had to proceed carefully, fully aware that Genevieve might take his concern for a desire to be rid of her.

  “Sit down, Jenny.” The children had given her the name, unable to pronounce “Genevieve,” and he liked it. It was more affectionat
e, he thought, more loving, and it helped to breach the formality which Genevieve had been so used to at the convent. He was still trying to get her to call Louisa and Kit by their Christian names, but she invariably always chose “Lord and Lady Sheridan,” acutely aware of their social standing and fearing to offend them with unwelcome familiarity, which they constantly assured her was not the case.

  “Any chance you might help me with the books?” Alec asked, voice full of hope. Genevieve had a real head for numbers, and although he hated to exploit her, he hated doing the books more and more with each passing year, finding himself without patience or hope of getting things to balance. He believed himself to be a savvy businessman, but as soon as he opened the ledgers, all the numbers seemed to change places, 879 becoming 789 before his eyes, making it nearly impossible for him to do the sums correctly. Maybe he needed spectacles, but that likely wasn’t the case since he’d battled this problem since he was a child. Valerie told him he had something she called “dyslexia,” but he secretly thought it was a made-up word, and he was just impatient and careless as the result of his hatred of mathematics.

  “Of course, Uncle Alec, it will be my pleasure,” she answered with a smile. She knew exactly what he was up to. “You don’t even have to ask; I’m always happy to help.”

  “You are a godsend,” Alec replied, sighing with relief before plunging in for the real reason for the summons. “Jenny, I know you’ve been happy here with us this past year, but I can’t help worrying about your future. A girl your age should be wed by now, with children of her own. Isn’t there anyone who’s caught your eye?” Alec winced as he saw Genevieve tense, her fingers digging into the cushion of her chair, her eyes darting around the room in a desperate effort to avoid his gaze. How could he convince her that all he wanted was her happiness?

  “No, Uncle Alec,” she mumbled, her gaze eyeing the door with longing. “There’s no one.”

  “Oh, come now. I saw you smiling at Roddy Parks. He’s a fine-looking young man with good prospects, and he holds you in high regard.”

  “He is, but he’s not Catholic.” Genevieve looked at Alec, her lovely green eyes begging for understanding. “I cannot marry someone who isn’t Catholic.”

  Alec nodded. That had been a problem for her since moving to Virginia. With Catholics being thin on the ground, and having grown up in a Catholic convent, Genevieve was very devout, and wouldn’t entertain the idea of sharing her life with someone who didn’t share her faith. She went to church services with the rest of the family since not attending the Anglican Church was paramount to treason, but Alec also held his own services at home for the Catholic members of the household.

  “Yes, I understand,” said Alec, giving up on Roddy Parks. “I felt very much the same before, but Charles married Annabel, and Louisa married Kit, and they manage to keep their religious differences from getting in the way of their relationships. Do you think you might be able to do the same?” Not a chance, he thought as Genevieve shook her head stubbornly.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Alec, but I simply couldn’t, and if my husband were Anglican so would my children, and I simply couldn’t bear that. It’s a Catholic or nothing, I’m afraid.” She lowered her eyes demurely, but Alec knew that beneath that shy exterior was a will of steel, and he chose not to argue. His sister had run away when their father tried to marry her off, and Genevieve might do the same if she felt that Alec might try to exercise his power over her, which he would never do. All he wanted was for the girl to be content and live her life to the fullest. Taking care of other people’s children would not be enough to bring her emotional fulfillment, but if she chose to remain unwed, then he would gladly take care of her for the rest of his days, and make sure that she was well provided for after his death. She was free to choose her own fate, and he wanted to make sure she knew that.

  “Jenny, you are free to choose your path; I just want you to be happy.”

  “I’m happy right here with you all,” she replied, giving him a crooked smile. Alec was about to smile back, but it turned into a grimace as a sharp pain tore through his side, making him double over. He tried to hide his discomfort from Genevieve, but it was too late.

  “Uncle Alec, what is it?” Genevieve was on her feet, helping him to a chair, her face full of worry. This wasn’t the first pain of its kind. They were growing in intensity and coming more frequently the last two days, leaving Alec breathless, sweating and trembling. “I’ll get Aunt Valerie.” Genevieve was already out the door before Alec had a chance to protest. He didn’t want to worry Valerie any more than she already was, but it was too late as he heard her running up the stairs.

  “Alec?! What is it?”

  “I’m perfectly well, really. It was nothing.” He smiled at her, removing his hand from his side and pretending that all was well.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing,” she grumbled. “You need a doctor.”

  “I don’t want a doctor,” Alec protested. “He’ll just bleed me again and tell me that I need to be purged of ill humors.”

  Valerie was about to protest when Alec went white, his hand flying to his side again as he gasped with pain. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead; his eyes glazed with suffering as he panted and doubled over, moaning. Valerie froze with fear, noting the location of his hand. It was on the lower-right side of his stomach — appendix. She was no doctor, but she knew the signs. It was either that or some kind of intestinal blockage, which no seventeenth-century doctor could operate on without killing the patient.

  “Come; let me get you to bed. Jenny, would you be so kind as to get a hot-water bottle for your uncle? That usually seems to help.”

  “Of course.” Genevieve sprinted out the door as Valerie helped Alec to his feet and walked him slowly to the bedroom. He groaned as he reclined on the bed, his hand still pressed to his side, his face ashen.

  Alec began to breathe a little easier as Valerie pressed the hot-water bottle to his side. His normal color was returning and his legs stopped twitching as the pain ebbed away and he relaxed against the pillows. Alec was so rarely sick that Valerie didn’t take the pains seriously at first. Everyone got a stomachache from time to time, especially when the diet wasn’t varied enough and consisted mostly of meat and bread. People of the seventeenth century had absolutely no concept of nutrition, and many suffered from chronic constipation, scurvy, and dehydration since they didn’t consume enough liquids, and the ones they did imbibe were all alcoholic. Even children drank beer and ale in large quantities since the water was often unclean and full of harmful bacteria, especially if it came from the area surrounding Jamestown. Many of the first colonists had died from drinking the putrid water, so people erred on the side of caution and stopped drinking it altogether.

  Both Valerie and Louisa tried to keep the family healthy by forcing them to drink water from the well, which was safe and clean, in lieu of beer and ale, especially the children. They taught Cook to add as many vegetables as she could to every dish, and spent countless hours foraging for wild strawberries, blueberries, nuts, and mushrooms to supplement their diet. Thankfully, everyone still had their teeth, and their skin was supple, not dry and sallow like many people who lived in town and rarely ate a vegetable.

  Valerie put a hand on Alec’s forehead to check for a temperature, but he was cool to the touch, which was a good sign.

  “Does it hurt anywhere else?” she asked as she watched his face. She knew he didn’t want to worry her and might not be truthful.

  “No, it’s just my side, and it comes and goes,” Alec replied, taking her hand in his and kissing her palm in a futile effort to calm her down. “I’m much improved. Can I go now? I have ledgers to balance.”

  Valerie was about to inform him that he wasn’t going anywhere when there was a knock on the door, followed by Louisa’s worried face. She glanced at Alec, then turned her attention to her sister. “Val, can I see you outside, please?”

  “Don’t move,” Valerie warned Alec as she follow
ed Louisa to the parlor. She knew what Louisa would say. They’d had this conversation only last night, but Valerie hadn’t been receptive, probably because she was still in denial. But now things had changed.

  “Val, you have to get him to a hospital. If it’s his appendix, it might rupture, and he could die. There’s no other choice.” Louisa gave Valerie a stern look, making her smile. She was right, of course, but there were so many obstacles to taking Alec to a hospital in the future.

  “How can I pull it off?” Valerie moaned, fixated on all the details of such an undertaking.

  “Easy. I will take you in the trap to where Williamsburg will be, and you will just use the time-travel device to transport yourself there. You will take him to the nearest hospital. No one will give you a second glance; they’ll just assume you work at Colonial Williamsburg and still wearing your costumes. They are duty-bound to help him.” Louisa smiled at Valerie, pleased with her plan. She’d obviously given it some thought since last night.

  “Lou, but what about insurance? Money? We might have to stay for a while. I can’t sell enough valuables to pay for a surgery. They’ll want his medical history as well, and his social security number, address, and billing information.” Valerie wrung her hands in agitation, already knowing that they would go no matter what.

  “Just tell them he’s British and give a phony address in London. Brits don’t have a social security number, and their medicine is socialized, so no insurance. Just wing it. Everything else will fall into place. You have no time to lose. Get some things together and I will take you right now.” Louisa was already heading for the door, ready to bring the trap around.

  “What will you tell everyone about our absence?” Valerie called after her, but Louisa just waved her hand dismissively.

  “I’ll think of something, now quit stalling and go.”

  June 2010

  Williamsburg, Virginia

  Chapter 2

  The Emergency Room was full of people; crying children, and adults suffering in silence as they waited to be seen to by the busy doctors, who were frequently appearing through the double doors to take in the next patient. Valerie was grateful to see that Alec didn’t have to wait. He was shown right into an examining room, his strange garb not raising any eyebrows in Colonial Williamsburg. There was a young man two rooms down who was wringing his tricorn in his hands as a young nurse stitched a cut on his leg; a young woman dressed in a gown and linen cap was sitting next to him and mumbling words of comfort. Nope, they weren’t out of place at all. The nurse handed Alec a hospital gown, not noticing his look of astonishment at the flimsy garment as she took his blood pressure.