A War Within
Katherine Hastings
Published by Flyte Publishing, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 by Katherine Hastings
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in an article or book review.
ISBN: 978-1-949913-01-9 (Paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-949913-00-2 (ebook)
FIRST EDITION
Editing by Tami Stark
Proofreading by Vicki McGough
Published by Flyte Publishing
www.katherinehastings.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
DAGGERS OF DESIRE SERIES
THANK YOU FOR READING
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my ASA Posse. It wouldn’t be here without the help, support, and guidance of an amazing group of talented authors. I’m talking to you Rosemarie Aquilina, Brittany Pate, Allison Mullinax, Rachel Dacus, Donna Migliacchio, and Anthony Thomas! Thanks for being the best damn cheering squad around!
PROLOGUE
1908 Hamburg, Germany
KLAUS STOOD AT THE gates of the Army base in Hamburg, Germany. Looking down at his shaking hands clutching the new recruit poster, he tried to steady his breathing. He didn’t know if he had what it took to be a soldier, but when he thought about turning away, he realized his options for survival were limited. Today was his sixteenth birthday and in the eyes of the orphanage, he was an adult. Without so much as a wish for luck, they’d tossed him out on the street with no money, no home, and no family. With helplessness nudging him forward, he gathered the remaining shreds of his courage around him like a cloak and walked up to the gate.
A soldier standing guard raked him up and down, sneering at his tall, lanky body.
“What do you want, boy?” he scoffed.
“I want to enlist, Sir.”
“And what am I supposed to do with you? You’re like a beanstalk. No muscle, no substance. You can’t be over sixteen and you probably haven’t a brain in your head.” As the officer laughed, the other officers gathered around, joining in with their own taunts. “Get out of here, kid.”
“You don’t belong here!”
“Get! Go!” They all mocked him and shooed him away.
With their laughter ringing in his ears, Klaus never felt more lost. He didn’t belong anywhere. After a lonely life in the orphanage, it seemed he wouldn’t find the family he desperately wanted here, either.
He wasn’t sure how old he was when a savior found him on the streets of Germany, probably about five. A Catholic nun stumbled across the battered body of a young boy curled up beneath a newspaper. She thought him dead at first, but upon further examination found he was still breathing. After carrying him into the church, she spent the next few weeks nursing him back to health.
Actual memories of that time were hazy, but the feeling was something he’d never forget... terrified, not unlike how he felt right now. He didn’t have a memory of his parents or what happened to him. But when the nun found him, he spoke both German and French, although she didn’t know why. It was assumed that perhaps he had a parent from each country. The nun dubbed him a miracle and after repeated attempts to locate his parents, she decided it was time to send him to the orphanage in Hamburg so he could find a new family. Since he had no memory of his name or his origins, the kind nun called him Klaus, meaning victory. Since he’d faced the icy cold clutches of death and come out on top, she thought the name fitting.
A shiver snaked up his spine as he thought of the orphanage. The ghastly place was cold and dark, the nights were filled with the sounds of lonely, crying little boys. The rules were strict, and the boys weren’t allowed to play with one another. They could only do their lengthy list of chores, study, pray or sleep. Day after day couples would come to choose a child to call their own. Day after day Klaus was rejected, and he finally gave up hope of ever having his own family. Klaus retreated into a dark place in his mind to survive the sterile, lonely life. He spent his nights fighting back the tears. Control over his situation eluded him, but there was one thing he could control. He wouldn’t be one of the crying voices of the night.
Now being out on his own, the prospect of finding a brotherhood in the military sent a crescent of hope through him. But even that flicker of light was soon extinguished. They were right. Although he was tall, taller than all of them, he didn’t have an ounce of muscle on his lanky frame. But they’d also teased that he didn’t have a brain in his head. There, they were wrong. Dead wrong. He’d spent all his years at the orphanage reading hundreds of books donated by local libraries and learning multiple languages to pass the time. He was smart and educated, but that wouldn’t matter to this ignorant group of primates.
As Klaus began his deflated march away from the officers, he decided he wasn’t going away without at least standing up for himself. He turned around and looked square in the eye of the initial offending officer.
“I may be young. I may be skinny. But I do have a brain in my head,” he spat at them. “If you’re so much smarter than me, than perhaps you can answer me this? Pourquoi êtes-vous si stupide?”
The officers stared at him in confusion. “No? You don’t speak French? How about Italian? Perché sei così stupido? Nothing? How about Почему вы так глупо? No Russian either, huh? I wonder, who’s the stupid one now?” And with that, Klaus spun on his heel with a grin on his face and began his walk into the unknown.
“Wait! You, boy. Stop!” A booming voice, so deep it may as well have been bottomless, stopped him in his tracks.
He turned around to see a large, imposing figure emerging from the shadow of the building, dressed in what appeared to be a German officer’s uniform. Medals and badges and stripes that meant nothing to Klaus covered it, but they certainly indicated the importance of the impressive man. When Klaus turned around, the soldiers who were ridiculing him just moments ago jumped into formation and saluted the giant of a man.
“Sir, Colonel Schumacher, Sir!” they said in unison.
His black eyes pierced Klaus where he stood, or perhaps they only looked black from the shadow of his protruding brow. He walked toward the now frozen Klaus and took his left hand out from behind his back and stroked his perfectly groomed, twisted mustache. Slow, deliberate steps brought him closer to Klaus and then he circled him, like a buyer would examine a horse before purchase. Sti
ffening his back like a rigid rod, Klaus stood still and tried his best not to look scared. Or scrawny. Or weak. Even with his best efforts he knew he couldn’t mask the expression of sheer terror etched on his face.
“Where did you learn to do that, boy?” the man asked so abruptly it caused Klaus to jump.
“I... eh... I learned in the orphanage, Sir.” Klaus stumbled but finally found the words to answer.
“The orphanage you say? So, no family?”
“No, Sir”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen today, Sir.”
“And you want to join the Army, huh?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, even though you look little more than a wet noodle now, I have a very specific use for someone of your talents. How many languages can you speak, boy?”
“Five fluently, Sir. German, English, French, Russian and Greek.”
The man continued circling him while stroking his oiled mustache. He came to a stop in front of him, looming over him like a snake ready to strike, and for the first time Klaus looked up and made eye contact. It took all his determination to muster up the strength to maintain the man’s intense gaze.
“Men!” he barked at the officers who still stood at attention. “Get this boy signed up and bring him directly to my office after he has been uniformed.” With that he spun on the heel of his shiny boot and walked away.
“Sir, yes, Sir!” they responded in eerie unison.
Tremors wracked Klaus and he wasn’t sure if they were caused by his fear of the colonel or the fact he had just joined the Army. A minute ago, enlisting had seemed like the perfect solution and now he wasn’t so sure. The moment thoughts of running consumed him, he took a deep breath and thought about the life that waited for him outside the Army. With no other skills than language, no home, no family, and no money, he would starve for sure. He took one last deep breath and walked up to the shocked-looking soldiers.
“Follow me,” said the newly humbled taunter, and Klaus followed him through the gates into the base.
CHAPTER ONE
March, 1916 France
THE SEAMSTRESS STEPPED aside, and Isabelle stood in front of the mirror and gazed in awe at her reflection. Where a young, boisterous girl once stood was now a beautiful woman wearing an elegant wedding dress. She barely recognized herself. The white lace hugged every inch of her curves and fell off her hips in soft, draping folds. Her dark waves of hair provided a stark yet stunning contrast to the white dress and fell across her shoulders, settling onto the ledge of her bosom created by the corset. Though it wasn’t finished yet, and many hours of detailing were still ahead of them, she knew when it was done this was what she would walk down the aisle in.
“This is it,” she said, turning around to meet her older sister, Alexis’ gaze. “This is definitely how I want it.”
Alexis hopped up from the chair she had been seated in for the last few hours watching Isabelle have her wedding dress designed. Her chestnut curls bounced with her excited jumping and tears filled her blue eyes. “You look incredible. Like a fairytale, Isabelle. Doesn’t she, Papa?”
They turned to where their father sat slumped in a chair, his soft snores piercing the silence while they waited for his response. Exchanging a look, the two girls giggled. Hours of watching dress alterations wasn’t how Henri Barouche usually spent his days. Sipping wine at their vineyard was his usual Saturday afternoon routine... and every day routine for that matter. Encompassing the true ways of being a Frenchman, he enjoyed life to its fullest. His family made their fortune growing grapes in their vineyard and producing some of France’s finest wine. Judging by the looks of his rosy nose and round belly, it was clear to anyone who saw him he was not only proficient at producing wine, but in consuming it as well.
“Papa!” Isabelle called, trying to stifle her smile.
With a snort, his eyes shot open and his gaze darted around the room. “What? Huh?”
“Papa, what do you think?” Alexis said, gesturing to the gown.
After rubbing his sleepy eyes, a smile lifted the salt and pepper mustache perched above his lips. “You are a vision, Isabelle. I wish mother was here to see you.”
Those words summoned the now-familiar twinge of pain that kept resurfacing over the winter while she planned her wedding to Pierre. Her mother wouldn’t be here to see it. She’d passed away ten years ago from an illness no doctor could cure. Even her father’s deep love for his wife, and the deep pockets he had to hire the best doctors in all of Europe, hadn’t been enough to save her. No matter what they tried, she fell sicker by the day. When she’d exhaled her last breath, Isabelle had been holding her hand, and that poignant memory would stay with her forever. One she both cherished and one that also haunted her. With the agony of regret, she relived that moment over and over each time she longed to have her mother standing beside her as she planned her wedding.
Henri came across the room and pulled her in for a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you, Isabelle. Truly I am. If you and Pierre are even half as happy as your mother and I were, I know you will have an incredible life.”
“If only I can be so lucky,” she said, kissing him on his rosy cheek.
Losing his wife tore her father apart, and for a time she worried he would follow her to the grave. He loved her with a passion that made the women of their acquaintance green with envy. Isabelle remembered hiding in the curtains as a child while her father would spin her mother around the parlor even without music playing to guide them. Their passion was palpable to anyone who was lucky enough to see them together, and she always knew she wanted a love like her parents had.
In just eight more months she would walk down the aisle to Pierre. Her love for him hadn’t been sudden or overwhelming like her parent’s was, but more like the erosion a small stream etches on a stubborn rock. Over time it wears its way through, creating a new stream of its own. Her love with Pierre reminded her of that. It wasn’t powerful and strong like a rushing river but soft and steady like the stream. More than a fiancé, he was her best friend. Spending her life with her friend and partner at her side would make her life a happy one.
They’d grown up together, and he’d teased her relentlessly as a child. Then in their teens they’d become friends, and only last year that friendship bloomed into romance when he’d stolen a kiss beneath her favorite weeping willow tree... the same one where he’d nearly stolen her virtue last summer underneath the lush branches. Deciding to wait until marriage to cross that final boundary they’d lain wrapped up together beside the pond and he’d asked her to be his wife. She’d accepted without hesitation. There was no doubt in her mind he would never try to change her or stifle her carefree ways. He would do anything for her and make her laugh until her stomach hurt, spinning her around the parlor long after the music stopped.
A loud commotion from the center of the small town pulled her from her father’s embrace, and echoes of men shouting from outside filled the quiet shop. The girls raced to the window to see what was happening.
“Can you see? Alexis! Can you see anything?” Isabelle struggled to get to the window, but the constraints of her dress made it difficult.
“I can’t see anything! What’s going on?” Alexis said as she tried to climb higher on the windowsill to get a better view. After giving up the struggle she climbed back down. “I’m going to check it out.”
“I’m coming, too,” Henri said, and started after her.
Isabelle followed them to the door but stopped when she remembered she still wore the beautiful white dress. She raced back to the dressing area and begged the seamstress to remove it. The short, stout lady fumbled with arthritic hands to undo the corset and the pins while Isabelle danced impatiently waiting to shimmy out of the dress. Feeling the last of the laces loosen, she wiggled out of the fabric. After pulling her own dress on over her head, she raced out into the streets to find her family.
“We need soldiers! More soldiers! Every man availab
le, your country needs you now!” She heard voices yelling. Crowds gathered in the streets of the small village nearest her home, coaxed outside by the noise. Usually a beautiful, peaceful place, the town overflowed with concerned citizens all vying to get a better look at the group of soldiers taking up residence at the town center.
“If you are an able-bodied man, we need you to join up! Protect your land! Your family! Your home!” The shouting continued. Men rallied around the soldiers, cheering them on. Isabelle watched the last young men in town line up to the makeshift table headed by a French soldier, eager to sign on the dotted line.
Isabelle found them and took Alexis’ hand. Doom pierced her gut as the boys she had known her whole life began signing the paper which would condemn most of them to death. Most of the able men over twenty were conscripted at the start of the war, but these were just teenagers. Boys too young for the horrors that awaited them after they signed those papers.
It was no secret this was the deadliest war they’d ever known. Hundreds of thousands had been massacred already with no end in sight. The unbearable conditions posed just as much threat to enlistees as the German soldiers. Soldiers lived in filth for weeks on end, froze to death, and lost limbs to disease and rot. The thought of these young boys she’d watched play in the fountain each summer suffering in deplorable conditions overwhelmed her.
“I can’t stand this. Let’s go.” Isabelle grabbed Alexis and her father by the hand and pushed through the crowd. They moved down the street to the carriage where Raulf waited.
Raulf had been with her family for over twenty-five years. She grew up running around her father’s stables, constantly under his feet. After his mother passed away and his father left, fifteen-year-old Raulf had come to their estate. Henri took him in and gave him a job in the stables, taking care of the champion steeplechasers he raised and raced. Always scolded by his wife for bringing in stray animals, Henri hadn’t the heart to turn away a boy in need. He had since become like family to them and she always thought of Raulf as an uncle. Isabelle loved teasing him about his eyebrows. They were so thick they were practically indistinguishable from the bushy mustache above his lips.
A War Within (Epic WWI Love Story) Page 1
