A War Within (Epic WWI Love Story)

by Katherine Hastings

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ISABELLE LAY SPRAWLED on the bed, flipping through the pages of the newest book Alexis had lent her. It was how she’d spent her entire winter in her aunt’s townhome in the city. Pierre’s death had knocked the life right out of her, but her father was right when he’d thought going to her aunt’s was exactly what she needed. A winter in a place where she had no memories with Pierre helped to soothe the ache his loss left in her heart.

  Even though she preferred life in the country, she normally enjoyed short visits to her aunt’s. Being so close to Chantilly, known as the horse capital of France, the area hosted some of the finest stables and racehorse trainers in the country. Twenty years ago, the horse racing world boomed there, and the stables and trainers quadrupled. As such an avid horse-lover, it was heaven for her and she loved accompanying her aunt and her father to the many races held in the neighboring city each summer. Her father was well known in the steeple chasing world and he was welcomed into the racing world, as well. Their visits usually included private tours of the farms and secluded dinners with the best trainers and owners in France.

  But this visit hadn’t been about touring stables and betting on the winners at races. She glanced around at the four walls enclosing the expansive room she’d been hidden in throughout the winter. Though she was surrounded by bright colors and the finest tapestries, rugs, and silver, it constricted her like a safe cave she’d been allowed to hibernate in while the worst of the grief passed over.

  Alexis opened the heavy wood door and peeked inside. “Didn’t you once say you’d rather live the adventures than to read about them?”

  Isabelle looked up and nodded. After Pierre’s death, she hadn’t had the will to get out of bed, much less go out on her usual adventures. Living in the romances of these books was the only joy she’d experienced in these past months. Closing her book she patted the bed beside her. “I did, Alexis. You’re very right. Even though I haven’t been up to it, I am feeling better. Thank you so much for lending me all these books. They have worked wonders at taking my mind off... things.” She still couldn’t say the words out loud.

  Alexis settled on the bed beside her. She reached out and picked up one of Isabelle’s many curls and twirled it through her fingers. “I think it’s time you get out and head to one of the dozens of parties Auntie Brigitte is invited to. You have been missing out on quite a whirlwind! The party we were at last night lasted into the early hours of the morning. I left at a decent hour, but I heard her laughing as she stumbled in the door at three in the morning!”

  Isabelle laughed at the thought of her Aunt Brigitte stumbling through the house, giggling from the overconsumption of wine. It wouldn’t be the first time. Brigitte was an unusual woman. With a sizeable inheritance to fund her lavish lifestyle, she didn’t conform to the molds of any lady Isabelle had ever met. Many people had commented over the years that Isabelle had gotten her good looks from her aunt. Both were tall and slender with emerald green eyes and dark hair. Though Isabelle shared her aunt’s looks and rebellious nature, it was Aunt Brigitte who found joy in using her magnetic personality to bring men to their knees. Considering she was in between husbands at the moment, Isabelle could imagine she had tortured several men at that last party.

  “Aunt Brigitte was out late again? What a surprise!” Isabelle shook her head. “She was probably smoking cigars and taking the money from the unsuspecting men in cards again. I guess we know where I get my wild streak from!”

  “It’s good to finally hear you laughing again. Perhaps you will have to join Aunt Brigitte and me one of these nights. What do you say, sister?” Alexis asked with a raised eyebrow and a half smile.

  Isabelle rolled onto her back and laid the book across her chest as she took a deep breath. The thought of getting out of this house appealed to her for the first time in months. She had cried every tear and screamed until her throat was hoarse. Alexis continued to tell her that time would heal the hole left from his loss. In the beginning, she thought the hurt would never ease. Alexis had been right, though. Every day she could feel herself getting stronger. Feeling hope again. Feeling like herself again.

  She climbed out of bed and walked over to the window she’d spent countless hours gazing out all winter long. It had been an unusually cold winter this year, and she’d enjoyed watching the snowflakes drift to the ground and coat the town in a beautiful white blanket. She enjoyed the peacefulness the snow brought with it. The streets would go quiet as everyone scurried inside, unprepared for the cold snap that normally came with it.

  Instead of snow now out the window the green stems of what would soon be flowers peeked out of the ground in the public gardens across the street. The last of the snow had melted a month ago and soon the April showers would nourish the buds and cause them to bloom. When the snow had stopped, the sun started to shine and Isabelle felt like one of the flowers in the garden. She had gone to sleep for the winter and now that she was healing, she started to grow again as she felt the warm sun on her face.

  “Alexis?” Isabelle quietly asked.

  “What is it?”

  “I miss him.” Isabelle turned away from the window to look at her sister still sitting on the bed.

  “I know you do. I miss him, too. He was like part of our family since we were kids. But if there’s one thing I know about Pierre, he wouldn’t want you sulking around mourning him.”

  Isabelle let out a deep sigh. Her sister was right. She could picture Pierre pacing the room right now, scolding her for moping and demanding she get out there and live her life. Even though she knew he would have told her to move on, lately she’d been feeling guilty as her grief began to subside. It seemed like moving on meant she didn’t miss him anymore, but she did. More than as a fiancé, she missed him as a friend. He’d been her very best friend, and she missed their laughs and their endless talks. She missed his constant jokes and the way he used to tease her. If only he were still here to tug on her hair or kick dirt at her like he did when they were children, she wouldn’t even scold him.

  “Thank you, sister,” Isabelle said, and she turned back to look out the window at the world that passed by even when she locked herself away in this room. The streets overflowed with people. Women wore the newest French fashions, and the vibrant colors created a human rainbow. As she looked through the sea of people, her eyes were drawn to a man standing near the bench at the garden. She squinted to get a better look. There was something familiar about him but his face was concealed beneath a brown tweed hat. She wished he would take it off so she could see his face.

  He was tall, taller than most of the men passing by. Wearing a modest farm outfit, he didn’t quite fit in with the dapper crowds moving around him, but it wasn’t just that that made him stand out. He looked as lost as she felt. Unable to look away, Isabelle watched as he found his way onto the white wooden bench across the street. He sat down and finally removed his hat, giving her a view of the face hidden beneath it. When she saw him, her breath hitched and her jaw slackened at the sight of the handsome man. Handsome is an understatement, she thought, he was downright gorgeous. Though she was too far away to see the color of his eyes, she could see the intensity in them even from her second-story perch.

  “Isabelle? Are you okay?” Alexis asked, noticing her sister had frozen solid. She approached the window and searched to see what had caught her attention.

  “Oh my!” Alexis teased when her eyes found the handsome stranger on the bench. She elbowed Isabelle in the ribs. “I think I can see what has caught your attention!”

  Isabelle snapped out of her trance and struggled to defend herself. When the words wouldn’t come, she let out a defeated sigh and the two girls giggled before Isabelle turned her attention back to the handsome man across the street. He sat on the bench for a few minutes longer and she watched him staring at what appeared to be a small photograph. Isabelle only wished she could see what it was that captured the attention of those mesmerizing eyes. He pl
aced the photograph back into an envelope and slid it down into his left pocket before standing up and walking off down the road.

  Isabelle followed him with her eyes for as long as she could. When he disappeared from sight, she found herself staring at the spot she had last seen him. She finally noticed Alexis staring at her with a closed-lip grin.

  “See something you like?” Alexis teased her.

  Isabelle smiled and took one last look at the spot where she had last seen the stranger.

  “Alexis. I’m ready to join you at a party. Let’s go shopping to find the perfect party dress.” Isabelle grabbed her sister’s hand and led her to the door.

  “Aunt Brigitte!” Alexis shrieked. “She’s ready! We’re going shopping right now! Have Alfred bring up the car!” The two girls raced down the stairs and for the first time in months Isabelle felt like herself again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE MORNING AFTER READING the letter, Auguste headed to the town stables to retrieve his horse. He was an older grey gelding he’d received in exchange for some work a few months back. While not the prettiest horse in the stable, he was a solid, loyal horse who was steady as the day was long. After greeting Beau with a scratch, he found his saddle and bridle and tacked up, tying the small bag containing all his worldly belongings onto the cantle of the saddle. Auguste mounted and headed west toward Besléuille. From the stable hand’s directions, staying on the country road would take him straight there.

  Auguste rode for the next two days, stopping to camp by a stream for the night and starting off again with the rising sun. Keeping Beau at a leisurely walk for most of the journey, he took his time admiring the breathtaking countryside. He had never seen beauty like the fields and meadows surrounding him. Even though spring wasn’t in full bloom, the grass was greening up and the smells of spring intoxicated him, something he appreciated more than he realized after enduring the rank stench of all those years at war. The closer he got to Besléuille the more beautiful the scenery became.

  When they completed their slow climb up a gentle hill, he saw smoke billowing up from the valley below. He pulled Beau to a halt and examined the quaint town nestled beneath the hills. Besléuille. It had to be. The grey cobblestone streets wound through the small wood and stone houses on either side. A fountain gurgled at the center of a small-town square and the sculpture of a horse reared out from the bubbling water. Street vendors called out as the people below hurried by. Based on the inn keep’s account, this picturesque little town fit his description of Besléuille perfectly.

  Auguste and Beau made their way down the winding hill into the idyllic little town below. As he rode down the streets, a man leading a small donkey greeted him.

  “Morning, monsieur!” the cheerful man shouted as he walked past. Auguste tipped his head and returned the smile. It would seem it was a town as friendly as it was beautiful.

  After finishing his ride through town, he dismounted in front of a dress store and tied Beau up to the hitching post before heading into the inn across the street.

  “Good morning, young man,” the rosy-cheeked brunette woman attending the desk said as he entered the inn.

  “Good morning, mademoiselle,” Auguste responded in his perfect French accent while he approached the counter. “I’m looking for a room and perhaps some work in town. I’m hoping you could help me with one or both?”

  Giving her his most flirtatious smile, he watched the flush fill her plump cheeks. His good looks had become a survival asset and as much as he loathed using them he knew when he flashed his smile at women, they tended to give him the things he needed.

  “Well, the room I can certainly take care of for you. Work, I may be able to help out with as well. Most of the men from town have joined up with the war so there are lots of odds and ends that need doing around here. However, if you’re looking for more permanent work, you may want to ride up the road north about two miles to Chateau Cheval. They’ve been looking for a second stable hand to help out poor Raulf. If you’re good with horses, I do believe the pay is above average. Tell them Moira sent you. I’ll have your horse brought to the stables for you tonight,” she said with a smile.

  “Thank you, Moira,” Auguste replied, watching her fluster beneath his alluring gaze. After paying for the room, he followed her up the wood stairs behind him. When they arrived, he opened the door to find a modest bed, a night stand, and an old wooden dresser in an otherwise empty room. He bid Moira goodbye then set his bag down on the dresser and fell backward onto the bed. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the envelope and slid out the picture of the girl. If he was right, this was her home town. He considered showing her picture to Moira to see if she recognized her, but something stopped him. The last thing he needed was tongues in this new town wagging about the stranger seeking a woman and drawing more attention to him.

  At least that was what he told himself while staring at the picture like he’d done every night since finally reading the letter. Her face was now so familiar to him he could have drawn it with his eyes closed, but he wasn’t ready to give up the photo just yet. Instead of flashing it around town, he decided to spend a little time here and see if he could find her himself.

  There was something about this girl, something besides her obvious beauty that touched part of his soul. Propping the photo up on the night stand, he looked at her one last time before closing his eyes. If only he would be lucky enough that the nightmares of the battles he had fought would be replaced by a more pleasant dream tonight.

  The next day, Auguste rode out toward the stable Moira had told him about. The thought of working on a horse farm intrigued him since he had a natural way with horses. His training in Germany had ensured he’d become an accomplished rider and trainer. Finding the girl was his main objective, but he was beginning to like this small town and even though it wasn’t the most logical idea, he couldn’t help but imagine finding a job here and making himself a long-term home. Leaving the country after finding the girl would be the smartest plan and would eliminate the risk of running into someone who may identify him as a traitor. But another glance around at the charming little town and he entertained the thought of trying to carve out a life for himself in a place that felt as close to home as anywhere he’d ever been.

  Beau snorted at a dog scampering across the road when they passed by. Auguste reached down and scratched his neck, soothing him forward. Obedient and steady, the horse marched them past the other commotions in town until the sounds of his hoof beats on the cobblestone were quieted, finding their way onto the dirt road heading into the countryside.

  It took Auguste a half hour to see the distinctive fencing Moira mentioned that indicated Chateau Cheval. A meticulous four-panel wood that stretched on as far as his eye could see, surrounded endless fields turning green after the long, cold winter. Wild flowers were starting to poke their heads up, leaning toward the sun that had abandoned them during the past six months. Auguste continued riding, admiring the beauty of the land around him until he found himself at a long, winding drive. Two stone pillars marked the entrance and on the right pillar was a stone-chiseled sign that said, “Chateau Cheval.”

  After Auguste reined Beau between the pillars, the two began the walk up the seemingly never-ending drive. They stepped onto a beautiful stone bridge that suspended them over a small, flowing creek, rushing with the new spring waters. Up ahead, Auguste saw the outline of a huge mansion, bigger than the orphanage he grew up in. An uneasy feeling crept into his stomach; perhaps he had been mistaken about working here. While he was trained to fit in anywhere, working for a stuffy rich man lording over his immaculate estate didn’t have much appeal. When Moira said it was nice, she hadn’t said it was palatial. Just as Auguste shook his head and started to spin Beau around, he heard a cheerful voice from beside the bridge.

  “Good morning, lad! Is there something I can help you with?” the jolly voice chimed, and Auguste looked around to identify it. Peering over the edge of the bridge,
he craned his neck and saw a short, stout older man sitting beneath it on the edge of the creek. He had his trousers rolled up and his feet dangling in the running water. Next to him, a small wooden fishing pole lay in the soft grass.

  “Good morning, monsieur,” Auguste said, pulling Beau to a halt. “I was sent by Moira about some stable work that was needed.”

  “Moira sent you, huh? Why don’t you hop down, and come over here, and we’ll have ourselves a chat!”

  Auguste slid to the ground and walked Beau over to a nearby tree. After slinging the reins over his head, he flipped them around the tree branch, leaving them just long enough the gelding could get some much-deserved grass. Once he was settled, Auguste walked over to the smiling old man.

  “Sit! Sit!” The man patted the ground beside him and his mustache rose with his smile. “Pull up your trousers and put your feet in. It’s still cold, but after a winter of frozen water I couldn’t wait to feel the stream on my feet again! Go on, don’t be shy!” He kicked his own feet in the water while Auguste chuckled and shook his head.

  Leaning down, he rolled up his trousers before kicking off his boots and stretching his toes. The boots were still a bit too tight, and he imagined the cool water would feel welcome. Following the man’s lead, he settled on the grass and lowered his feet into the water. He sucked the air through his teeth while he braced against the intense cold.

  “It only hurts for a minute, lad! Then your feet go numb and you won’t feel a thing!” The man laughed as he kicked his own stubby little feet about in the water. “I’m Henri.”

  “I’m Auguste...” He paused when he realized he’d spit out his French military name. Changing his identity would be beneficial to staying hidden, but it was too late to go back now. As Henri’s eyes searched his, he racked his brain for a last name, settling instantly on the one that signified what he wanted most... a family. A brother. “Auguste Pettit. Nice to meet you, Henri.” Since Jean-Luc felt like his brother, sharing his last name was the closest thing he could have to that relationship right now. Jean-Luc may hate him, but Auguste would always consider him a brother. In this new life he would be Auguste Pettit.