Once in a Blue Moon

by Kathryn Kelly

  Arabella watched the little family, husband and wives, brothers and sisters, and felt a strong surge of belongingness sweep over her.

  Family.

  She may have grown up in another time, but this was where she belonged.

  No matter what time period it was, home was where and when her family was.

  Right here. Right now.

  She turned and looked up at Augustus – into his handsome face and eyes filled with love.

  With one hand on her stomach and the other on her cheek, he pressed his lips against hers.

  “This is where we belong,” she murmured against his lips.

  “Together.” He kissed her on the cheek. “No matter when.”

  If you enjoyed my Once Upon a Time series, I think you’ll also like my Southern Belle Historical Romance series. Please continue reading for a sneak peek at Beyond Enemy Lines available on Amazon!

  About the Author

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  Also by Kathryn Kelly

  Time Travel Romance

  Twist of Fate

  When the Stars Align

  Once in a Blue Moon

  Once Upon a Christmas

  Sweet and Wholesome Contemporary Romance

  Begin Again

  Love Again

  Falling Again

  Just Happened

  Just Maybe

  Just Pretend

  Just Because

  Just Once

  A Very Merry Christmas Gift

  Pretend You’ll Stay

  Love Me Tomorrow

  Historical Romance

  Love Always

  Beyond Enemy Lines

  Hearts Under Siege

  Hearts Under Fire

  Fated Mates Romance

  Riley’s Mate

  Aiden’s Mate

  Brayden’s Mate

  Beyond Enemy Lines Excerpt

  Southern Belle Civil War Romance

  Book 2

  Beyond Enemy Lines

  Chapter 1

  Natchez, Mississippi

  October 1863

  “I’ll kill those yanks! Then I’ll whup their asses back to the North.”

  “Caleb, you’re not allowed to say that!”

  Sophia sighed and dropped the socks she was knitting into her lap. “Jenny’s right. Eat your peas.”

  “I hate peas,” Caleb insisted.

  “I know, Baby, but it’s all we have,” Sophia said, with the patience of repetition.

  At eleven and seven, the children, Caleb and Jenny were old enough to understand the hardships created by the war. Understanding it didn’t mean they liked it.

  “Sophia is going to bring us something else, right Sophia?”

  Sophia pictured the pass tucked into her skirt. The pass that would allow her to travel to the hospital on the edge of town to tend injured Yankees. She shivered inside. Tending wounded Yankees in exchange for food.

  She straightened her shoulders. Food other than peas.

  “That’s right, Jenny. Tonight we’ll have food to eat. Not peas.” Jenny had always been a reasonable, logical child.

  “Can I go with you?”

  Sometimes reasonable and logical translated into too old for her age. “No, Dear, it’s grownups only.”

  “I’m seven.”

  Sophia smiled. “That’s right. It won’t be long before you’re old enough.” Several years.

  “When Jenny’s old enough to go to the Yankee hospital, I’ll be old enough to kill the Yanks.”

  Sophia sighed. And be just like your father. Not a chance. In the year since their mother’s death, her siblings had begun to believe they were grown up. At age twenty, Sophia found herself in the role of parent.

  Parents. She reminded herself. Their father had been killed at the Battle of Bull Run and their mother had succumbed to a broken heart not even a year later. Looking down at the pearl ring on her finger, the ring that had belonged to her mother, she took strength that her parents’ lives had been cut short, but they had loved deeply and unreservedly.

  “Eat your peas, Caleb, and God willing, we’ll have something better tonight.”

  Caleb took a bite of the mushed peas, peas that even Sophia could hardly stomach, and swallowed with his face contorted into a scowl.

  A knock at the door interrupted their breakfast. A shiver of nerves ran down Sophia’s spine. She glanced at the grandfather clock. Mary was early.

  “Miss Mary’s here!” Jenny jumped up and ran to the door.

  “Wait!” Sophia cried, running after her, dropping her knitting to the floor. “Make sure it’s her.”

  “I know,” Jenny, said, stopping to look up at her sister with a look of indignation that only a seven-year-old sister could give. Jenny peaked out the window before opening the door and throwing her arms around Mary.

  “You’re early,” Sophia commented, but softened her words with a smile.

  “I didn’t want to be late. We’re a bit hungry over there.”

  “I can offer you some peas.”

  “She can have my peas,” Caleb chimed in from the doorway.

  “We have peas, no thank you.”

  “Does your father know where you’re going?

  “Oh, my Lord, no.” Mary said, moving from Jenny to hug Caleb. Caleb inched back at the display of affection, but Mary appeared not to notice. “Do you have your papers?”

  Sophia patted her skirt. “Did they say how much food we’ll get?”

  Mary shrugged. “I heard six biscuits and a slab of ham.”

  “Ham!” Caleb exclaimed, jumping excitedly.

  “Yes, ham,” Mary said, tousling his hair. “We should go,” she said.

  “I’m ready,” Sophia said, then turned to her sister. “Do not open the door.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes. “I mean it. Do not open the door to anyone.” She turned to Caleb. “That goes for you, too.”

  Caleb crossed his heart.

  “Work on your studies. I want a full reckoning tonight of what you’ve learned.”

  “Let’s go,” Mary said, glancing at the clock.

  Sophia pulled on her cloak, tattered a little from wear around the edges and followed Mary out the front door. It was early yet, barely daylight, keeping the residents inside. Yankee soldiers, however, were scattered along the grounds of their town estate named Beaumont, named after Sophia’s great grandfather, standing outside their tents, sipping coffee smoking cigarettes. Interesting that they had plenty while those inside the homes struggled to keep their hunger at bay.

  Sophia pulled up the hood of her cloak and kept her head down. Mary was much bolder, but she had ventured out on a regular basis allowing her to grow more confident among the Yankees. Perhaps it Sophia hadn’t been caring for the children she, too, would have ventured out into town more often.

  They veered right at the intersection and walked toward downtown, each lost in her own thoughts. Two blocks down, they saw a group of women gathered up ahead.

  “I don’t recognize anyone, do you?” Sophia asked.

  “No.”

  Sophia hesitated.

  “It’s alright,” Mary assured her. “Everyone we knew has scattered and there are more strangers in town from the country.”

  Sophia continued toward the girls. Only one girl wore a hoop skirt as Sophia and Mary did. The other four wore dresses that had no hoops under them, leaving them falling straight to the ground. And the material was worn, much like Sophia wore for chores. A little coil of uncertainty niggled in the pit of her stomach.

  “Are you sure this is right?” She whispered to Mary.

  “You’re a worry wart,” Mary responded.

  I should get out more. She straightened her back. Biscuits and ham.

  The girls were quiet, with only darting eye contact.

  They waited
for about ten minutes before a buckboard wagon approached with two Yankee soldiers sitting on the front.

  “I told you we needed to come ahead,” Mary whispered as the wagon came to stop in front of them.

  “Good morning, Ladies,” the tallest soldier said.

  A couple of girls responded, but mostly they kept their eyes down. What had become of their spunk? Had the war taken everything from these women’s gumption?

  The soldiers jumped from the wagon and went around to the back. The shorter one unloaded a step to help them get into the wagon. The wagon was empty – nothing to sit on.

  “All aboard,” the soldier said, gesturing for them to come forward and board the wagon. When no one moved, he added. “Now don’t be shy.”

  Mary went first, tugging Sophia behind her. “Come on girls. Let’s get moving.”

  Once Mary was safely in the wagon, Sophia gathered her skirts and put a foot on the single step. One of the soldiers grasped her elbow and put a hand behind her back. He then guided her up into the wagon. Crouching, Sophia moved to the front to sit on the floor of the wagon next to Mary.

  As she gathered her skirts around her, she heard a rip in the material of her skirt.

  “Oh no,” she groaned, examining the rip in the bottom of her green dress - her second best dress.

  Mary leaned over to examine it. “You can fix it,” she said.

  “I might can,” she said, the loop of material in her hands. “But in the meantime, I have to wear it this way.”

  “It’ll be alright,” Mary said. “It looks like no one wore their best.”

  The girl in a gray dress, the one wearing the hoop, looked askance at her. Mary just shrugged.

  Minutes later, all the girls were loaded in the wagon, the soldiers back up front, and they rolled away from town. Sophia pulled her hood around her face and kept her face down to avoid being seen by anyone she might know.

  They traveled along to the outskirts of town and went down a wooded road that led to a house Sophia didn’t recognize. “Where are we?” She whispered to Mary.

  “It’s supposed to be the hospital,” Mary answered.

  It was a large, white columned mansion with peeling paint and a sagging upper balcony. The house was surrounded by small tents and Yankees swarming everywhere. The grounds echoed with the sounds of male voices and laughter. Some of the Yankee soldiers were in full uniform. Others wore white shirts with blue pants. Several of the men stopped what they had been doing and stared at the girls.

  Sophia shivered. There was no safety here. They were in the belly of the enemy. The wagon came to stop and the girls were unloaded without incident.

  “Let’s go inside,” their escort directed. The girls followed him up the steps to the front door of the house. Where were the owners?

  “Wait here,” the soldier said and went upstairs, leaving the seven girls huddled together in the foyer of what obviously used to be a grand home. The floor was littered with dirt and leaves that had been tracked in from outside. The walls had been stripped of any decoration, leaving a hollowness to the house.

  “The soldiers seem nice,” Mary said, attempting to strike up a conversation with the girl in the hoop skirt. “My name is Mary and this is Sophia.”

  “I’m Abigail,” the girl said.

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Sophia said.

  “Likewise,” Abigail said, making eye contact for the first time.

  “Where do you think the hospital is?” Sophia asked.

  Abigail looked confused before breaking eye contact. Sophia and Mary exchanged a questioning look.

  “All right, Ladies,” the soldier called, bouncing back down the stairs. “Just wait here. The Lieutenant will be down in a few moments.”

  Moments later, the Lieutenant strode down the stairs and into the foyer. He was tall and slim, his hair dark, cut short. He was a bit older than the soldiers who had brought them here – at least thirty years of age. His face was clean-shaven. As he passed by, Sophia caught a whiff of soap. “Let’s start with you,” he demanded, pointing to Abigail. “Come with me.”

  Abigail trembled, but her feet remained frozen.

  “It’s all right,” Sophia whispered. “Go ahead.”

  Abigail met her gaze and returned Sophia’s nod. As though going to the gallows, she walked into what appeared to be the office to stand in front of a desk. Sophia inched closer to peek through the door.

  “Name?” Wearing a scowl, he picked up the quill and dipped it into the ink.

  Though she strained to listen, Sophia couldn’t make out the remainder of their conversation. A few minutes later, Abigail was escorted by the young soldier past them and out toward the back of the house. Abigail kept her gaze down.

  “Next,” the Lieutenant called. No one moved, not even Mary.

  “You,” he called, pointing to Sophia.

  “Me?” she mouthed, laying a hand on her chest.

  “Yes,” the man said, gesturing her to come forward.

  Sophia swallowed thickly and, lifting her chin, went into what looked to be a man’s study and stood in the middle of the room. Books, no doubt left by the owner, lined two sides of the room. The third side was lined with windows that looked on the grounds, and the fourth held a massive oak desk littered with papers. The room smelled of old books and tobacco. A credenza behind the desk held decanters of whiskey and glasses.

  Wearing a scowl, he picked up the quill and dipped it into the ink.

  “Name?”

  “Sophia.”

  He scratched the pen on the paper. “Last name?”

  “Martinique.”

  “Address?”

  Sophia recited her address.

  “Any illnesses?”

  “No,” she said, feeling a sudden surge of relief for the first time since leaving the house with Mary. It all made sense now. If they were to be working in the hospital, they had to be cleared… – and healthy.

  She smiled.

  The Lieutenant looked up at that moment and froze. Their eyes locked. His were a clear sapphire blue. She tilted her head to the side, her face softening.

  Slowly, he set down his quill. “Edward,” he shouted. Sophia jumped, her relief draining. What have I done?

  When Edward didn’t immediately appear, the Lieutenant shouted his name again. Seconds later, the taller soldier appeared in the doorway. “Edward is in the back, Sir.”

  “Never mind, escort Miss Sophia across the hall and have her wait there for me.

  The men wanted sex and despite General Gresham’s attempts to keep the men away from the sordid prostitutes of Natchez Under the Hill, they managed to find their way there. The place was like a magnet for the lonely soldiers. Three of the men had already been killed as a result of fighting in the under the hill saloons. And two others had gone missing.

  Joshua inhaled his cigar and blew smoke into the cool morning air. He was no saint by any means, but after one trip under the hill, he vowed it would be his last. The prostitutes were of the most unsavory ilk and he became an avid, albeit mostly silent, supporter of General Gresham’s opposition to the men partaking of the women under the hill.

  It seemed that Joshua’s one off-hand statement of agreement had been sufficient to spur General Gresham to enact his latest scheme.

  “We need to give the men another option,” General Gresham had said.

  “Options?” Joshua’s mind had gone down roads that were better left unexplored.

  “Yes. They need to have women come to them.”

  “You want to bring the prostitutes up here?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “How is that different?”

  “They would be different prostitutes.”

  “Some of the men use the laundresses behind the camp.”

  “Same idea.”

  “Help me understand.”

  “We can bring ladies from town out to the officers.”

  “Ladies?”

  “Yes. Not
prostitutes. Ladies for companionship.”

  “You want to turn Southern ladies into prostitutes?”

  Although General Gresham had denied it, Joshua knew that ultimately what the man proposed would indeed turn ladies into prostitutes.

  Joshua wasn’t convinced that scheme was much better than allowing the men to seek actual prostitutes under the hill. He inhaled his fine cigar from home and watched as the men settled into their morning routine, doubtlessly bored and lonely. Joshua harbored serious doubts that they would attract ladies of solid reputation.

  And considered Sophia Martinique. At first glance, he had thought she was another lady of questionable morals. Her ripped dress, dragging along the floor had given him a false first impression. However, upon focusing his attention upon her face, he knew. This one is different.

  The war brought unfortunate circumstances to most. Hunger led many to do things otherwise out of character.

  What had led Sophia Martinique to respond to an ad offering bread, beans, potatoes, and ham? What situation of desperation had given her the motivation to venture into the heart of the Yankee camp?

  Putting out his cigar, he made a determination. He would find out what brought her here and make sure she received the food that had been promised to her.

  Furthermore, he would keep Sophia from the hands of those who would doubtless take advantage of her plight.

  Joshua turned and went back inside, relieved that only seven girls had shown up and that the job of placing them was finished for the day.

  “Sir,” Edward said, stepping to stand next to Joshua.

  “What is it Edward?”

  “Sir, I was wondering if, um…” Edward’s face flushed. Edward wasn’t more than seventeen years old.

  “You’re wondering about the ladies,” Joshua said, taking pity on the soldier.

  “Um. Yes sir.” Edward put his head down. Then Edward looked up hopefully. “What are you going to do with the one in the parlor?”

  The heat rushed to Joshua’s cheeks. As though she were a piece of furniture. “I’m not going to do anything with her.” He gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to yell.