A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

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