Bring Me Edelweiss (Five Points Stories Book 2)

by Kyle Baxter

  “I didn’t know he would be there.” Freddie stepped back. “According to Aunt Meike, he’s been going there every day.”

  “Why on earth—” His brother looked up at him, incredulous.

  “He likes helping people, Karl,” Freddie shot. “He likes helping people, and I like him.”

  “Well, he needs to leave,” the king demanded. “And the sooner, the better.”

  “His family is on a train to France in the morning,” Freddie explained. “He’s going with them.”

  The king came around his desk and took his wife’s hand. “Good, maybe then you can get your head out of the clouds.”

  Freddie fumed, clenching and unclenching his fists. “My head—”

  “Father has a point.” Karl jabbed a finger at him. “You’ve not been giving your duties the attention they deserve. You’ve let your affair with this . . . American distract you from what’s important. This is your family and your country. We didn’t call you home because we wanted to. After all, you made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with us when you ran off and joined the military. We did it because we have no choice. Now, step up and do your duty, Frederick.”

  “I always do my duty,” he protested through gritted teeth, the anger flaring bright. “I am here. I am doing what you want me to do, but I will do it in the time and manner I choose. I’m sorry if my affair with this American inconveniences all your best-laid plans, but like the saying goes, ‘Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof’—you can’t always get what you want. This is who I am. Take it or leave it.”

  Karl hung his head. “You know we have no choice.”

  “Yes. I do,” Freddie said firmly. “And you’re dismissed.”

  Karl blanched and waved for his aide. The man helped him while Freddie stood, watching them leave. He looked to his mother and father; they were somber and silent, cowed.

  He glared at his father. “I’m done. I will not end my involvement with the shelter and I will see Joel whenever I can, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “But in deference to your wishes and the sometimes backward sensibilities of our lovely little nation, I will not flaunt it.”

  His father nodded but kept silent. His mother, however, gave him a slight smile.

  He was a little embarrassed but kept his face stoic and emotionless. Karl was right in some of what he said, but they pushed him too far and needed to learn their limits. Neither a delinquent nor an insecure child they could push around, he was a grown man with hopes and dreams—dreams he was now being asked to sacrifice—and they would respect that.

  He already regretted talking to his infirmed older brother that way. Cringing inwardly, he wanted to disappear. I could have handled that better. He’d apologize for that, but later. Right now, he needed to get to the police station and then to the Sonne Hotel and check on Joel. Frederick had to make sure he was all right.

  Walking out of the office, he found Denis coming down the hall. Anger flooded his eyes. The tall man was down looking at his phone and not paying attention. Frederick ducked behind a large potted plant, fading into the woodwork. As he got near him, Freddie came out, grabbed Denis by the arm, and pushed him into a nearby broom closet.

  “It’s time you and I had a little talk,” he snarled.

  “Frederick,” Denis yelped, then straightened his shirt. “Have I done something—”

  “Do you know what I did in the military?” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “I heard you had a diplomatic posting in Morocco. Lovely place.” Denis snickered. It was clear that he thought Freddie was some candy-ass playboy.

  “That’s the public relations line,” Freddie said and stepped closer to the taller man.

  “Public relations line . . . ?” Denis tried to step back, but he was already against the wall.

  “I was deployed to the Middle East, repeatedly. I went on missions in hostile environments, in bad places where the only one you had to rely on was the person beside you. I survived. Some of my buddies didn’t. Do you know what that means?” Freddie moved closer still.

  “Not really.” Denis was sweating, nervous. His eyes darted around.

  Freddie moved even closer, making the man shrink and try to move away, but Freddie had him pinned. When he was only inches from the tall man’s face, his voice dropped to a growl. “I’m not just lucky, but I’m very good at what I do. Here’s the thing, Denis. I heard about what you said to Joel. For the sake of our past friendship, I am giving you one chance: leave him alone or I will end you. Are we clear?”

  Denis nodded frantically. “Yes.”

  Freddie bobbed his head slightly and moved back, giving him some room. “Now, I will listen to you. I will attend my lessons and I will learn what I need to learn from you. It is my job and I always do my duty. But make no mistake, we are not friends.” Frederick stepped to the door. “You will not treat people I love like that ever again. Are we clear?”

  Denis recovered and started to relax. “Yes, Frederick.”

  He turned back to glare at the slender man. “No, Denis, it’s not Frederick. To you, it’s Your Royal Highness, sire, or Prince Frederick. Once again, are we clear?”

  Denis gave him a bow. “Yes, sire.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tears Dry

  Security surrounded the entrance to the Sonne Hotel. They let Joel out of the back of the sedan with hardly a word. Standing to his full height, he glanced around. The streets even in this small city were usually busy in the early evening. Word clearly got around.

  He felt sick to his stomach and tired. God, I’m tired. He shook out his hands, not realizing he still had them clenched. He gave a little nod to the doormen. Their eyes were wide. I guess it’s not every day someone gets dropped off by castle security. And I keep getting dropped off . . .

  He was almost to the elevator when he ran into his mother. She called out his name as she came down the stairs.

  Almost frantic, she pulled him into a hug and squeezed him. “What happened? Security told us to be ready to leave first thing in the morning.”

  “There was an attack on the food shelter Freddie and I were volunteering at,” Joel said.

  “An attack on him? Is he okay?” She put a hand up to his face and looked into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “We’re both fine. I think they were targeting refugees.” He let her fuss over him and straighten his hair. It was motherly and comforting, and he was very grateful for it. “I’m fine . . . He’s fine. We’re all fine,” he repeated. His voice sounded off to him, crazed. Hold it together. He wanted to cry, but he was afraid he wouldn’t stop. “But it’s time to go. I’m going to pack for the trip tomorrow and then go to bed. Can’t be late.” He wanted to get out of here, out of this damn country, and to get his family out of harm’s way. “Can’t be late . . . It’s okay. I’m all right.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said. “Let’s go.” Taking his hand, his mother escorted him to his room.

  Inside she took his coat and hung it up in the closet. After pulling the curtains shut, she sat him on the bed. He watched it all like he was watching a movie, like it was happening to someone else. Am I even here?

  Taking off his shoes, his mom then pushed his feet up on the bed. She hummed softly to herself, like she did when he was a kid. Joel missed that. He missed her. Why did I wait so long to go home?

  He watched her with his back to the headboard as she rushed to the bathroom and sit on the edge of the bed beside him. She rubbed the washcloth over his face. It felt cool. Nice.

  It all hit him suddenly, and hot tears ran down his face. I hurt someone. His mother pulled him into her arms as he sobbed.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened, Joey?” she asked when he stopped. Joel’s eyes shot up at the nickname. She gave him a sly smile. “Yes, I noticed that your prince calls you that. But your father, Joseph, did it first.”

  “You never called me that after he died.” Joel searched her eyes.

  “I know, I’
m sorry. It was too hard,” she said softly, looking down. “That was selfish of me.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Joel looked down at her hands in his. They were so small. “You were never selfish.”

  “Do you like when your prince calls you that?” She wiped away his tears with the washcloth.

  “I do, but don’t tell him that,” he choked out through tears.

  “Mum’s the word.” She ran a finger over her mouth like she was zipping it shut and then threw the imaginary key away. Squeezing his hand, she looked at him from under a concerned brow. “Now tell me what happened, Joey.”

  He took a deep breath, then recounted the afternoon at the shelter. But when he got to the bloody scene in the dining hall, he faltered. She gripped his hand tighter.

  “I’m a military wife. It’s okay,” she reassured him, and he went on. She listened patiently, and when he finished, she pulled him into another embrace and held him for a long time. “Now, I want you to listen to me, okay?” She rubbed his back and he nodded between sobs. “You are not Superman,” she said firmly. His downcast eyes lifted to hers. “That’s right. I know you love him and all, but you’re not Superman. You and Frederick did what you had to in order to survive, okay? You did nothing wrong.” Her voice was firm and steady.

  He felt like a kid again and she was explaining a difficult thing to him. It is so difficult. “But I threw a Molotov cocktail at someone. He went up in flames—”

  “Stop it—” She cut him off. “Stop it. Now, I want you to listen to me, young man. If you and your prince had not done what you did, those men would have killed you both. And more, those other people would have died too, like Frederick’s aunt.” She took his hands and held onto them for a long time. “Okay? Do you understand me?”

  He bobbed his head, sniffling.

  Mom took a deep breath and sat up straight. She patted Joel’s leg. “You know, I think I’d like to meet this Meike Müller. She sounds like my kind of woman.” Her Southern drawl was thick. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded but looked down.

  “Okay, now, I’m going to go downstairs and tell your sisters and stepfather the Reader’s Digest condensed version of all this, mind you without all the gory details. We’re going to get packing. We are leaving in the morning, posthaste. I want you to get some rest, okay? And if you need anything, call me. Is your Prince Charming coming to see you later?”

  Joel shrugged. He really didn’t know. They weren’t supposed to see each other, but . . .

  “I’m sure he’ll be by. You tell him he’s in my prayers, okay?” She stopped at the door on the way out and looked back at him. There was water in her eyes. “I love you, Joey. Your daddy loves you too.” She pointed skyward. “He may be in heaven, but he’s always looking out for you. Never forget that.”

  “Thank you . . . Mommy.” After she left, he curled up on the bed and stared into the distance. He could not rest; his mind kept replaying the events of the night.

  Joel reminded himself over and over what his mother said. The gunmen were going to kill both him and Freddie. They did what they had to do. It didn’t make him feel better. He was not a soldier. I hurt someone.

  He wanted Freddie here. Pulling out his phone, he glanced at it. There were no messages. He prayed he was okay.

  A noise came from the hall, and he jumped. Getting out of bed, he looked around the room frantically. His heart pounded. What do I do? He grabbed the chair and pushed it to the door, jamming it under the handle. Then he locked the security bolt and picked up the corkscrew off the table. Why’d didn’t I bring the knife with me?

  He watched shadows pass by under the crack at the bottom of the door. The skin on the back of his neck crawled, and he plopped down to sit at the foot of the bed and stared at the door. His stomach was in knots.

  Then there was a knock at the door. After rushing over, Joel yanked the chair away. He opened it just enough to see who was on the other side. Freddie stood in the hall with two bodyguards. Letting out a long breath of relief, he unlatched the security bolt. The prince rushed in, but his security stayed outside.

  Relief washed over Joel as Freddie pulled him close. He sobbed as the man’s strong arms held him tight. “Thank God you’re all right. I was so scared. I was afraid they’d come after you and I didn’t know what to do or who to call . . .”

  “I’m fine. I’m sorry I took so long.” Frederick rubbed his back. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay . . . I think.” Joel said, but his heart still thudded in his chest. Freddie’s back felt so good under his fingers. He was afraid to let go; he never wanted to let go.

  Freddie pulled away and looked carefully into his eyes. “Have you eaten or had anything to drink?”

  Joel thought about that. Had he eaten? “I can’t . . . I can’t . . . No, I’ve just been sitting here . . .”

  “For three hours?” Freddie’s eyes were wide, and his brow furrowed.

  It’s been three hours? “Wow.” He sat down on the bed. Alarm bells rang in his mind. He looked up at his lover. “Am I okay?”

  Freddie squatted in front of him, his hands moving over Joel’s body, searching, clinically. “Does anything hurt?”

  “No, not really,” Joel said. Why is he asking this? “I feel sore, but that’s it.”

  “That’s normal.” Standing, Freddie looked into his eyes, then kissed the top of his head and sat beside him. “You’re in shock.” He squeezed Joel’s leg affectionately.

  He narrowed his eyes at the prince. What was he saying?

  “Psychological shock. You’re not in any physical danger,” Freddie explained. “You just need to chill, as you American blokes say.”

  A giggle bubbled up. “You sound funny when you say that. Chill. I’m hungry. Are you hungry? Let’s order food.” Joel reached backward for the room service menu on the nightstand.

  “Your arms are so goddamn long,” Freddie clucked.

  With a start, Joel realized how dark it was. No lights were on. He’d sat alone in the dark for hours. A shiver moved through him. Well, that’s not good. Handing Freddie the menu, he said, “You order.”

  Before Freddie could even look at the menu, there was a knock on the door and a muffled, “Zimmerservice.”

  “How on earth did you do that?” He stared at the prince on his bed. A prince is on my bed. He almost giggled again. His mind was bouncing off the walls of his skull, and he trembled. He noticed the telltale sweat on Freddie’s chin, and Joel wanted nothing more than to kiss it.

  “I figured you didn’t eat,” Freddie said. “I even checked with the hotel manager to see if you ordered room service. I haven’t eaten either, so I arranged for burgers and beer when I got here.”

  “Burgers and beer, burgers and beer,” Joel sang, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “That may be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  ❖

  “Why are you so calm about this?” Joel asked between mouthfuls. The moment he took his first bite, he felt ravenous. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, and it settled his mania somewhat.

  “I’m a soldier. I had training,” Freddie said. His voice was steady, but Joel saw sadness in his prince’s green eyes. He wanted to fix that, take away the sadness, just as he realized that would not be possible. It was a part of him.

  Joel watched as Freddie lifted his beer to his mouth and took a long drink. God, I want to be that beer bottle. His lips are perfect.

  “We asked the police to keep your involvement quiet. The crown prince”—he indicted himself, and it was maybe the first time Joel had heard Frederick refer to himself that way—“thinks it will be better for your safety. No one knows who you are, and the less you’re seen with the royal family, the better.”

  “Why?” Joel held a hand over his mouth as he spoke.

  “It puts you in the public eye. Castle security believes this was a one-off, but on the off chance it isn’t . . .”

  Joel nodded, sitting back. He hadn’t thought of that
. “It’s better no one knows me or my family. Got it. Luckily there weren’t too many photographers at the shelter.” And they pushed me into the background, Joel thought bitterly. His manhandling by die Polizei rankled him. “Tell me the truth, now. Was this an attack on you?”

  “No, security is certain they had no idea I was there. I only went to the shelter on a whim,” Freddie said.

  Joel popped a waffle fry into his mouth.

  “They were targeting the shelter and the refugees.” Freddie’s handsome face darkened. “The king told me not to go there ever again.”

  “Not your father?” Joel took Freddie’s hand and squeezed it. He did not like seeing him that way.

  When Freddie looked up at him, his eyes were wet. “No, this was definitely an order from the king. And I am ignoring it.”

  “Good for you.” Joel’s heart brightened just a bit. That was big. Standing up to your parents was always a big deal. He imagined that it was even harder if they were a king and queen.

  Freddie leaned back in his chair, beer in hand. “Just think, it was only a week ago that we were sitting in Heathrow, sharing a meal, just like this.”

  Joel put a hand on Frederick’s knee. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Reaching over, Freddie took his hand and then yanked Joel into a standing position.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as Freddie looked up at him from his seated position and started unbuckling Joel’s belt. He let Freddie pull his slacks down and then his underwear. “Oh, that.” Leaning down, he pulled Freddie to his feet and then into a kiss.

  Joel tried to pull his legs out of his slacks but only succeeded in making them both tumble onto the bed. He laughed as the prince nuzzled his neck and sang, “Joey . . .”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The War Song

  Freddie scuttled over a rooftop in Etreustein, in the lower village. A siren blared somewhere, and he climbed down a ladder to the street. Joel followed him, panting.