Bring Me Edelweiss (Five Points Stories Book 2)

by Kyle Baxter

  “Prost!” The soldier clinked his glass with Joel’s.

  ❖

  Their meal arrived, and as they ate, Joel found his eyes darting up to meet the trooper’s repeatedly, sharing a smile. But hungry as they were, they sat silently through most of the meal. Joel ate the grilled avocado with stilton and smoked salmon, while his host devoured the barbecued baby back ribs. He realized with a start he did not know his name.

  “I am so sorry. I never introduced myself.” Joel wiped his hands on a napkin and extended it. “I’m Joel McIntyre.”

  “Oh,” the man mumbled and quickly wiped his own hands and his perfect mouth. “I apologize, my manners. I’m Freddie d’Pierrepont—”

  “Freddie? Really?” Joel chuckled.

  “Well, it’s Frederick, technically, but—”

  “Got it.” Joel snapped his fingers. “Trying to fit in.”

  “Exactement.” Freddie did the chef’s kiss with his fingers and grinned.

  “In a perfect French accent, no less,” Joel said, impressed. The little French he knew was colored by his Yat and New Orleans creole influence. “Are you ethnically French? I mean, what is your native tongue?”

  “Ethnically I’m Prussian and the main language in Etreustein is a German dialect,” Freddie explained and his face turned a little dark. “Etreustein is stuck between several countries, so most of us speak several languages. But one branch of the family tree is French—”

  “Hence the d’Pierrepont?” Joel took a bite of his salmon. “What do you mean stuck? Sorry, this is fascinating to me.”

  “Please don’t apologize. I find your Yat and New Orleanian transplanted to Manhattan story equally interesting,” Freddie said between bites of his ribs. “Stuck? In my opinion, Etreustein depends too much on our neighboring countries. Energy, security, everything, but we’re so small it’s not as if we have many choices.” Freddie’s expression closed up. He looked sad and thoughtful.

  “Not like there’s anything a soldier could do about it anyway, I guess?” Joel wanted to do something or say something to brighten the mood again, but he wasn’t sure what.

  After setting his ribs down, Freddie wiped his hands and beard with his napkin. “No, there’s not much a soldier could do.” His face darkened, and deep furrows formed on his brow.

  What’s that about?

  “Joel,” Freddie said slowly, and a thrill shot through Joel. “Does anyone ever call you Joey?”

  “No,” he said quickly—too quickly. His father called him that, and when he died, no one did again. Not until high school, when they tried to give him that moniker. He ignored it and they quit eventually. Hector taught him that you didn’t fight those things; if you did, people only dug in deeper. That was how friendly teasing worked.

  “Joey,” the trooper sang, aping the Concrete Blonde song.

  Joel shook his head slightly. “Please don’t.”

  “Well, that settles that.” Freddie picked up a rib and gestured with it. “I’m definitely calling you Joey.”

  Joel let out a sharp breath. Asshole. But it excited him at the same time, that this handsome soldier gave him a nickname. In his heart, he liked hearing it again. He likes me.

  “And you’re built like a Joey.” Freddie pointed at him. “The kangaroo?”

  “How so?” He couldn’t help it; he wanted to hear this.

  The trooper grinned. “All long limbs, gawky, and very cute.” Freddie gave him a wink, and Joel’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I bet you have a fuzzy tail too.”

  Chapter Seven

  Step by Step

  Feeling full and pleased with himself, Joel found himself whistling as they walked through the terminal after lunch. The delay in his trip was working out all right. This does not suck. Freddie’s phone pinged, but with hardly a glance, he put it on mute.

  Joel pointed at it as the trooper slipped the phone into his pocket. “Something waiting for you in Etreustein?”

  A grunt escaped Freddie’s broad chest. “A lot of family obligations.”

  Joel gave him a knowing look. “Same here. That’s why I’m on this trip.”

  “How so?”

  “My dad has some business there.” Joel stopped at the bookstore again, picked up a novel, and eyed the description on the back. “My mom decided we all needed a family vacation together, and since I hadn’t been home in a couple of years, I couldn’t really say no.”

  “I haven’t seen my family in a few years either.” Freddie waited just outside the border of the shop, watching Joel browse. “But I call my mum when I can.”

  “But it’s not the same . . .” He put the book back down. I really should go see them more.

  “No, it’s not.”

  Joel left the store and Freddie followed along. “I’m sure your mother will be glad to see you.”

  “I hope,” Freddie said and looked down.

  “You hope?” That stopped him and he turned to face the trooper.

  “I kind of turned my back on my family and the family business when I joined up.” Freddie scratched behind his neck. “I couldn’t wait to get away from them. Too much drama.”

  That surprised him, and he looked carefully at the soldier’s face. Those green eyes were deep.

  Freddie dropped his duffle bag and turned to him. “It’s the way I went about it. I left in a huff and joined up. Most people in our family have served, but they go to proper military school.”

  “That wasn’t for you?”

  “Of course not.” Freddie raised both hands. “I like to do things my own way.”

  “I get it. My dad doesn’t exactly respect my career path either. He thinks being a waiter, or event planner, is beneath me.”

  Freddie folded his arms across his chest. “What would he have you do?”

  “I dunno, maybe join his firm? I have a degree in accounting.”

  “Then why are you a . . . ?”

  Joel grimaced. Why was he always defending himself? “I enjoy it. I work with people I like, it offers me free time, and I make good money.”

  “And your father doesn’t like that?”

  Joel shrugged. “I’ve always been a disappointment, never lived up to my full potential in his eyes. After a while, I just quit trying.”

  Freddie’s head bobbed. He got it.

  “Hang on,” a woman shouted, grabbing their attention. She followed after one child while pulling a rolling carry-on in one hand and another child in the other.

  “I have to go,” the little girl whined.

  The trailing child tripped and sobbed. The mother was not having a great day.

  “Thirza,” the mother said sharply to a slump-shouldered thin teenage girl that trailed behind. “Get over here and keep an eye on your brother.”

  With a moan, Thirza walked over.

  “Get your head out of your phone and pay attention,” Mom snapped.

  Joel almost laughed. He remembered a scene just like this in an airport when he and his sisters were young. In this woman’s voice, he heard the same distressed tone his mother had then, and he stepped forward immediately. “Hey, can we help?”

  The woman eyed him up and down and then saw Freddie beside him and noted his cammies. She looked back at Thirza, then pushed the trailing child to Freddie and handed Joel the suitcase. “Would you be a love? Thank you so much. We’ll be right back. Just going to the toilet.” She jabbed a finger at her daughter as the other child dragged her away. “Thirza, watch your brother!”

  The girl rolled her eyes but stepped closer to the young boy. She gave both Joel and Freddie the once-over. Her eyes darted to her phone, then back up to them, repeatedly. The boy looked up at Freddie and favored him with a gap-toothed grin, his face still wet from crying.

  “What did you get me into?” Freddie gave Joel a sharp eye, but a slight smile betrayed his amusement.

  “You’re a soldier. Isn’t that what you do? Help people and dig wells?” Joel sneered at the trooper, who held the child’s hand.


  Freddie’s handsome face scrunched up. “I’m more the go-in-and-kill-people type.”

  Both the teenager’s and the little boy’s eyes went wide. Joel let go of the suitcase and put his hands over the boy’s ears. “Why would you say that?”

  Thirza chuckled and shook her head.

  “Only the bad guys,” Freddie protested. Letting go of the boy’s hand, he squatted to look him in the eye. “What’s your name, then?”

  “Noah,” the child said. He still looked unsure, but he wasn’t crying. Win!

  Joel saw Freddie blanch at the boy’s name and stepped in. “Hey, this is Freddie.” He indicated the squatting man. “And I’m—”

  “He’s Joey Baby,” Freddie interrupted, and the little boy giggled.

  “I hate you,” Joel said under his breath.

  “No, you don’t,” Freddie muttered out of the side of his mouth. “What’s all this about, then?” He gave the boy a friendly poke.

  “He’s probably just tired.” Joel bent down. “I get cranky when I’m tired too.”

  Freddie gave him a wry smile. “Noted.”

  Noah looked back and forth to them both. “I wanna go home.”

  “And where is home?” Joel asked, squatting as well.

  “London,” Thirza chimed in for the first time.

  “Well, you’re almost there. Hang on just a bit more.” Freddie squeezed the boy’s shoulder. The kid gave him a light smile as the mother rushed back with the little girl on her hip.

  “Thank you so much,” she said.

  “How are you getting home?” Freddie stood up straight and took Noah’s hand.

  “We’re taking the tube, love.” She wiped the little girl’s nose clean. It seemed to Joel that she had sprung a leak; there was so much mucus coming out. Freddie transferred Noah’s hand to him and slipped away, pulling out his phone.

  “He’s cranky, but it’s nothing a sleep and food won’t cure, right, chief?” The boy clung to Joel’s leg.

  “You have kids?” she asked.

  “Two younger sisters,” Joel explained. “I looked after them a lot when my mom went back to school.”

  Mom laughed. “You definitely know then. The name’s Maeve, by the way.” She extended a hand. “You know Noah and Thirza, and this is Deirdre.”

  Joel gave Deirdre a smile. She looked like his sister Caty did at that age.

  Freddie stepped back to them and, sliding his phone into a pocket in his fatigues, said, “Let’s help get them sorted. I have a car coming to take them home.”

  “Oh my, I can’t ask you to do that,” Maeve protested.

  “Already done.” Freddie gave Noah a wink. The boy smiled and hid behind Joel’s leg.

  Joel squinted at the trooper. “We’re leaving the terminal?”

  Freddie looked down at Noah, who watched them both intently. “Noah, Uncle Joey Baby is being difficult. He likes being difficult.” Noah giggled, and that made Freddie smile. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, and it bugged Joel.

  “I am not. It’s just . . . We’ll have to go through security to get back in again,” Joel said.

  Freddie looked at his watch and shrugged. “We still have over six hours before our flight.”

  He had a point. What else were they going to do? And this way, Joel could spend more time with him. “Fine, come on, Noah.” Freddie held out his hand. The boy took it, and then Joel gave Freddie a dirty look. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

  Freddie’s cheeks flushed crimson. “You think I’m cute.”

  That earned an eye roll from Joel. “You know damn well you’re cute.”

  “I can’t ask you boys to . . .” Maeve started.

  “Nonsense.” Joel waved her protest off, now firmly in on the plan. “We’re doing this. Freddie, use those nice muscles of yours and help Maeve with her bag.”

  Freddie slung his duffle bag strap over his shoulder and grabbed Maeve’s carry-on. “As you wish,” he said and then took Noah’s other hand.

  At those words, Joel looked at the man and caught the flash of a sly smile, and they all started toward baggage claim. After a bit, Freddie fell back and talked with Maeve while Joel wound up walking ahead with Noah and keeping him occupied.

  “Have you two been together long?” Maeve asked as they made their way out of the terminal and to the street. Joel choked at that.

  “Ages,” Freddie said from behind him, and Joel felt the grin on the man’s wide face.

  “How long were you overseas?” Maeve asked softly.

  “A couple of years,” Freddie said.

  Maeve bent down and wiped the girl’s nose again. “Your mum must miss you.”

  Freddie thought about that. “I . . . I don’t know. We’re not very close.”

  ❖

  When they made it out of Terminal 2 and onto the Forecourt, they found a limousine waiting. The driver rushed over, took Maeve’s bags, and loaded them into the back. Thirza climbed in immediately.

  “This is for us? I can’t . . .” Maeve sputtered, a hand on her chest.

  “Yes, you can.” Freddie reached over and gave her a quick hug.

  Joel noticed airport security staring at them nervously, but they didn’t approach. Pick-ups were not allowed at the Forecourt. How did Freddie manage this?

  “Here, this is my number.” Maeve scribbled on a piece of paper she’d dug out of her voluminous purse. “You two call me if you ever need anything . . . promise?” She glared at them the way only a mother could.

  Freddie and Joel both stepped back. “Promise,” Freddie murmured.

  She turned on Joel. “I promise, I promise.”

  Freddie pulled a piece of cloth out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Deirdre. “That’s for you.”

  Maeve saw that it was an embroidered service patch from Freddie’s military unit. She stammered, “You can’t.”

  “Nonsense, I have several to give all my nieces and nephews.” He gave the little girl a wink, and she turned a bright red. Then he knelt in front of Noah. Out of his wallet, he pulled a flower, pressed and preserved in a thin slice of resin the size of a business card. “And this is for you, for luck.” He stood up and patted the boy on the back.

  Thirza yelled from the car, “Mum, come on!”

  “She’s such a blessing,” Maeve groused, gave them both another hug, and loaded herself and the two remaining kids into the limo. They waved as it drove off. Joel gestured to the security guards, who were still keeping their distance.

  “How did you pull that off, getting a car in here?”

  “I lived here for years. I know a few people.” Freddie gave him an exaggerated wink.

  Over his shoulder, Joel noticed a couple of photographers jump out of a cab and look around, then head toward the doors.

  Freddie’s gaze followed Joel’s, and he blanched. “Let’s go.” Taking Joel’s elbow, he led him back to the terminal. Inside, Freddie stepped behind a pillar and pulled Joel over with him. Joel’s body blocked the shorter man’s.

  They were so close. Joel’s head swam with the body heat. As Freddie looked up at him, Joel thought for a moment that they were going to kiss. Their lips hovered near each other. What’s going on? Freddie looked over his shoulder and pulled back. Looking around, Joel found that the photographers had moved on.

  “What was that about?” Joel asked. “Did you just use me to hide from the photographers?”

  “You’re being dramatic.” Freddie poked him in the stomach playfully.

  “You almost kissed me.” Joel batted Freddie’s tickling hand away.

  “You sound a bit disappointed I didn’t. Fancy having a snog?” Freddie’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “No,” Joel said a bit too quickly. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t—or that you would want to . . .” Joel stammered.

  “Oh, Joey, I want to do much more than kiss you.” Freddie hoisted his duffle bag over his shoulder, took his hand, and pulled Joel back through the terminal, toward security
, and in the opposite direction the photographers had gone.

  Joel let himself be led along, but he knew there was something else going on. Who were those photographers? Why were they here? Freddie deflecting the questions didn’t make Joel less curious. “You know, pulling me close and almost kissing me in public isn’t very British of you.”

  Freddie gave him his megawatt smile. “Good thing I’m not British, then.”

  They found the way back in easier than Joel thought it would be. They all but flew through FastTrack. “I had the airline take care of it,” he explained.

  Joel didn’t buy it; something was off with this guy. Their expedited way through security couldn’t be because he was a serviceman—was that even the right word in Europe? In America, airlines sometimes bent over backward for service members, but in Europe, things were different. They treated military service more like a job. And Freddie still kept a sharp eye out for photographers. “You’re holding something back from me.”

  The terminal was bustling. For a second, Freddie looked panicked and froze in place. He glanced around at all the people. Joel noticed an odd look in his eyes, like a deer in headlights.

  “Hey, you okay?” Joel dropped his messenger bag and put a hand on the man’s arm. Freddie’s lips were moving; he was counting under his breath. His body relaxed after a moment and he looked up at Joel. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

  Joel nodded. “Yeah, I think I know your secret.”

  Freddie raised an eyebrow and, after picking up his bag, started walking again. “Is that so?”

  Joel followed. “Everything you’ve got done today. You helped Maeve—”

  “You started it.” Freddie jabbed him with his finger again. A friendly look returned to his face.

  “You got her home, got us through security, and in only a few minutes. I think I know your secret.”

  Freddie stopped in place. “So you said. What is it, then?”

  With a grin, Joel punched him in the shoulder. “You’re a superhero, aren’t you?”

  Freddie snorted with laughter. “Yes, you’ve got me. I’m a superhero.”

  “You’re the British Batman—called Knight, I think,” Joel explained. “He has his own Robin too, called Squire.”