Bring Me Edelweiss (Five Points Stories Book 2)

by Kyle Baxter

  He took one from the drawer and joined her at the table. “Why don’t you want anyone to know?”

  “I’m cheating on my diet.” She twirled her spoon in the air. “Your father’s trying to lose weight, and I’m trying to help. You know I support him.”

  “You’re tiny, Mom.” Joel took a spoonful of ice cream and held his hand over his mouth while he spoke. “You hardly need to diet.”

  “A diet doesn’t mean losing weight. It’s just about eating healthier,” she said and took another bite.

  “True.” Joel pointed a finger at her. “And it’s like they say, if you don’t cheat now and again, you’ll wind up cheating all the time.”

  “Thank you.” She smacked his shoulder. “That’s the attitude I like.” They ate in silence for a few moments. “It’s good to see you out of your room. I’m worried about you in there, pining away.”

  Grumbling, he sat back. “MoOoom, I’m not pining. Besides, I am going out tomorrow.”

  “Only because you promised Mariah.” Mom wiped her mouth with a napkin. “And you keep your promises. You’re a good boy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You ready to talk?” She leaned back in her chair and set her utensil down.

  He froze with the spoon in his mouth and gave her a side-eye. “Mmm . . . okay.”

  She pulled out her business stare. Gone was her bubbly Glinda the Good Witch mode. “Why didn’t you fight for him? You told me what happened, his nightmares and the way he panicked. I don’t blame him. I understand. Joseph had nightmares when he first got back from overseas. It was difficult on us, but we made it through.” Mom reached over and poked him in the shoulder. “You know that. I know you remember that. Why didn’t you fight for him? You let that fine hunk o’ man walk away, and that is not the boy I raised.”

  “Can you keep a secret—from Dad?” Joel likewise let the lighter mood drop.

  She clasped her hands in front of her. “I will not lie to your stepfather.”

  “Not lie.” Joel raised a hand. “Just not volunteer information.”

  She stared at him. He could see in her eyes that she was turning it over. She smacked her palm on the table. “Hit me. For the next five minutes, anything you say is off the record—as long as it’s not illegal.”

  Joel nodded and, letting out a deep breath, started, “The night of the party at the castle, I went looking for Mariah. I happened to stumble on a meeting between Prince Karl and Dad.”

  She put her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “Go on.”

  “Karl threatened Dad’s deal. He said I was a distraction for Frederick, but if I stayed away from him, he would make sure Dad’s deal went through.”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed. “And what did your father say?”

  He crossed his forearms flat on the table and shrugged. “I have no idea. My phone went off and I had to bail.”

  Reaching over, she put a hand on his. “Joel, you know your father would never ask you to stay away from Frederick.”

  “I know that—I do—but I also can’t be the reason he loses that deal,” Joel said. “I know he really needs it, Mom. He told me.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “He’s really worried about his company. They’ve put a lot of years into it, and now it could just be yanked away from them.” She threw her hands up. “Poof.”

  “Just like Freddie and his military career.” Joel knew that still bothered him. “I won’t be the cause of Dad losing his deal.”

  “Well don’t you have a big head! I think if that happens it will be that snake Karl,” she said. “So that’s it? You just up and walked away from the love of your life?”

  Joel sputtered out a laugh. “I never said that.”

  “Please, you didn’t have to. I’m a Southern woman.” She batted her eyes. “I know these things.”

  “And here I thought you liked Seth.”

  “Seth? I do like him. He gives me compliments, and you know I like anyone who compliments me. So what?” She leaned forward. “The minute I saw you and Frederick together at the party that first night, I saw something special. Then when he came down to breakfast? The way that boy looked at you? I knew that was it. He was the one for you. He’s your forever and you’re his.”

  A blush rose to Joel's cheeks.

  “Did you talk to either of them about this? Your dad or Frederick?”

  “God no.” He picked up his spoon and took another bite.

  Mom did the same. “Why not?”

  Joel got up and rinsed his spoon in the sink. “They’re too much alike. Both stubborn, pigheaded men—”

  “No small resemblance to your own personality,” she snarked.

  Joel scowled. “Anyway, Dad would torpedo his own deal. And Frederick? Well, he has enough problems with his family as it is. Too much pressure. I won’t add to it. I can’t let either of them sacrifice for me, not this time.”

  “You sacrifice for the people you love. That’s what you do,” she said.

  “I know, and that’s what I’m doing. ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few—or the one.’”

  Chapter Thirty

  Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover

  Frederick entered the Salle des Caryatides in the Louvre and passed four sculpted figures, the classical-style female columns. At the far end lay Hermès à la sandale, but just ahead was the statue of Artemis and her hounds and Frederick’s quarry. He saw on social media that she was coming here today.

  Mariah stood at the front of the statue of the goddess, taking it all in. But there was no sign of Joel. His heart sank. Dammit. I wanted to talk to him.

  In the days following their last night together, guilt hung heavy on his shoulder. He should have handled it differently. He could have explained. He could have done something, but he let the panic following the nightmare cloud his judgment. Can I take it back?

  “Hullo,” Freddie said, sidling up to her. He slid his hands into his pockets.

  “What are you doing here?” Mariah looked at him. A brittle expression took over her face. She was put out with him.

  “Hoping to run into your brother—and you, of course.” He gave her his best smile, the one he was practicing in the mirror as per Denis’s instructions.

  “Mariah?” Astrid greeted her as she joined them, and they shook hands. She turned to her brother. “Frederick, is this why you wanted to stop at the Louvre?”

  Frederick’s face burned. “Yes, I saw from her Instagram posts that she was here. I hoped to see Joel before—”

  “We have a dinner meeting to get to, Frederick,” Astrid scolded him, shaking her head.

  “You came all the way to Paris to see Joel?” Mariah bit her lip, then turned to walk away.

  “No, my sister and I are here on business,” Frederick explained as he followed the tall girl. “But I did come to the Louvre to see Joel. You know you’re almost as dramatic as he is.”

  Mariah arched an eyebrow and sneered. “Right, because you stalking someone across Europe is not at all dramatic.”

  He put a hand to his forehead. “I am not stalking your brother. Look, I just wanted to talk to him—I want to explain . . .”

  She turned on him abruptly as they arrived at the statue of Hermes. “Joel isn’t here.”

  “He isn’t?” That set the prince back; he was sure Joel would be. He loved museums, and when Frederick saw Mariah was here in this room near this statue, he assumed Joel would be here. He remembered his lover’s affection for the god. “But I thought—”

  “Fredrick, you two broke up or whatever, right?” Mariah crossed her arms and her lower lip stuck out.

  He dropped his face and looked at the ground. “Yes.”

  Mariah took a deep breath, and her jaw set. She was winding up to say something. “You can’t just drop in on him.”

  “What do you mean?” His heart drummed.

  “It’s not fair. If you want to be with him, then be with him. If you don’t, or can’t, then don’t. It’s
not fair,” Mariah shot, her voice thick with anger. “Either be with him or let him go. Don’t be like Seth.”

  It hit him like a slap to the face, but she was exactly right. He did not want to be a Seth to Joel. He came here in a moment of sentimental weakness and he needed to get out of here before Joel saw him. He looked around, unsure of what to say.

  “Joel has a piece he painted like this.” Mariah stuck her chin out as she indicated the statue.

  “Your brother paints? I . . . I didn’t know that.” Frederick put a hand to his chin and stared at the statue of the god. It was beautiful, incredible work. Joel paints?

  Mariah eyed him frostily. “Mostly watercolors, but he also does some oils.” She walked around the statue, examining it. Freddie followed her with Astrid. “It’s on a similar theme: the athletic god fastening his sandals. It’s pretty good.”

  “He never told me he painted.”

  “He doesn’t anymore. He gave it up.” Mariah noticed his confused look and her eyes bored into him. She was definitely not happy with how he left things with her brother. “Yes. He even had pieces in a few shows, but the business side of things put him off. Like everything else, it wasn’t always about the work but who you knew that got your attention and prominent placement in shows.”

  Frederick nodded. There was now something new to google about his Joey. Not mine. I walked away. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  Mariah stopped and looked down at him, her nose crinkling. “He’s very talented, but also very kind. Some people sometimes mistake that for weakness, but he’s the strongest person I know. He deserves someone that will be there for him, someone that will be around for him.”

  He dropped his head. Message received. Looking back up at the statue, he said, “I like this piece. We have a copy in the collection in Etreustein.”

  Astrid shook her head. “No, I believe ours is lent out at the moment. Maybe to the Met in New York, I think?”

  There was a shriek, and Freddie grabbed Mariah and Astrid and yanked them with him behind a pillar. He crouched down and, after a moment, looked around the edge. Nothing was going on, but a few people in the hall looked around.

  “Fredrick, what is wrong?” Astrid looked at him wide-eyed.

  “I thought . . .” Freddie stammered and helped her up. His hands trembled.

  “It’s just some kids, you butthead,” Mariah spat. She pointed at some teenagers jostling each other and laughing near Artemis. “What’s wrong with you?”

  He rubbed perspiration off his brow with a sleeve. It was kids. Just children making a loud noise. What was wrong with him? Deep breaths . . .

  Astrid looked into his eyes, then put a hand on his arm and led him to a bench. Mariah watched them, frightened, but she followed close behind.

  “Where’s your security?” Mariah glanced around. “None? I can’t believe this.”

  “We didn’t think any was necessary in the Louvre.” Astrid looked up at her as she held Frederick’s hand.

  Mariah gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, and no one thought terrorists would cross the border into Etreustein and attack a shelter either.” It was clear she vividly remembered the night of the incident and the panic at the hotel when they all heard about it. Who wouldn’t? The entire town panicked that night. Astrid only nodded; she did not explain that their security waited outside.

  “You’re with me at the Louvre,” Astrid said, calmly rubbing his upper arm. “Take deep breaths and count backward from one hundred—”

  “By threes.” Frederick look around and rubbed his palms on his slacks. He turned to Mariah. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He tried to sound light and chipper.

  “It’s okay. I get it. You can get through this.” Mariah sat down with them and put a hand on Freddie’s other arm. “You can do this.”

  “Thank you.” He gave her a slight smile. That same kindness Joel so often exhibited shined bright in her. He suddenly felt very protective of the young woman. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

  “Joel has nightmares too, since that night.” Mariah squeezed his hand and avoided his gaze. “Mom sat us down and talked to us about it. Joel doesn’t—won’t—talk about it, but I can hear him through the walls at the house we’re staying in. He told me you have night terrors and I did some research on PTSD.”

  He looked at her. He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to run to Joel and take care of him, but he couldn’t. Joel deserved someone who would be there for him. Mariah was right in all her accusations. It wasn’t fair to either of them. What did he think coming here would accomplish?

  “Is this from that night or your service?” Mariah turned back to him, genuinely curious.

  He thought about that for a long time. The nightmares were coming more frequently since the night at the shelter. “Maybe both.”

  “Tell me what you need now.” Astrid rubbed his back.

  His eyes darted around. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “Okay, just concentrate on your breathing.” Mariah leaned against his shoulder. “Stay in the present, here with us.”

  “I’m sorry to hear your brother’s having nightmares,” Freddie said after a few moments. “I wanted to protect him from—all this.”

  Astrid’s eyes narrowed. “All what, Frederick?”

  “All of me, all my problems,” he said.

  “You can’t. If you try to do that, you only push people away.” Mariah’s voice was clear and aimed straight. “You have to let people who love you be there for you.”

  “You learned all of this from a little research?” Astrid asked her.

  “No, not all. My dad served with Joel’s biological father in the military—they both had their share of nightmares.” She patted his hand. “Families go through it with you, so let them. Don’t shut them out.”

  He looked at Astrid and squeezed her hand. After a moment, he started to feel better and sat up straight. He gave Mariah another tight smile. “Thank you, but I think we should go.”

  Mariah searched his eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, you were right. I can’t just drop in on Joel now and again. I won’t be a Seth. I need to let him go.”

  She let out a harsh breath and rolled her eyes. “God, boys are thick. That is not what I wanted you to take from that.”

  “I know, but it’s all I can do right now. It’s not fair to him or to me and I need to accept that.” Standing, he straightened his jacket. Freddie hoped he sounded convincing, but his voice was strangled and shrill in his own ear.

  Mariah closed her eyes and shook her head in frustration. She turned from him and shared a glance with Astrid. A cock-eyed smile crossed the girl’s face. “Did I just screw up the chance at that job?”

  Astrid patted her on the back. “Just the opposite.” She led her brother out of the museum and to their waiting car.

  ❖

  After climbing in the limo, Astrid turned to him, her brow furrowing. “Now, do you mind telling me what that was all about, Frederick?”

  “It was a mistake, an error in judgment.” He screwed his eyes tight. “I missed Joel. I wanted to see him, to talk to him.”

  Her face fell. “I apologize. I was busy with my own concerns. I was not aware you two broke up. I’m sorry, Frederick. I know how fond you are of him.” She put a hand on his arm. “What happened?”

  Luc climbed into the back with them. “Yes, I’d like to know that as well.”

  “How do you not know?” Frederick asked, amazed. The man followed him to the loo.

  “Despite what you think, I do try to give you as much privacy as I can.” The older man knocked on the divider, letting the driver know they were ready, and the car pulled into traffic.

  “Why are you two not together?” she asked. “It’s clear you love each other and this separation is affecting you deeply. We’ve all noticed how despondent you’ve become of late. But you’ve been distracted and irritable since you returned.” Luc nodded and Astrid continued
, her eyes boring into Frederick. “Tell me what is going on, because I do not understand. Is this all about Joel?”

  “No,” Frederick said sharply, then caught himself. “No, it’s not. It is not any one thing. It’s everything. But the king did forbid me from seeing him.”

  A guttural sound came from Astrid’s throat and Luc shook his head.

  “And you acquiesced to that?” Astrid asked.

  “Of course not. I put my foot down.” Fredrick took a deep breath. It went against his nature to talk about this, but Astrid and Luc were the two people closest to him. With Joel not here, he had to talk to someone. “But, Astrid, you saw me back there. I’m . . . I feel broken. I have these dreams, nightmares, and sometimes I thrash and lash out. I’m scared of hurting him.”

  Astrid took his hand in hers. “Frederick, you can get therapy for PTSD, go to self-help meetings and any number of things. We can even have Kaiser trained as a therapy dog, but why are you afraid of hurting him?”

  “I did almost hurt him the other night,” Freddie murmured. “After the attack at the shelter, I went to check on him. We spent the night together. I woke up from a night terror with my hands on his neck.”

  His sister gasped.

  “Exactly. It was the last straw. I panicked.” Shame crawled up Frederick’s spine. “I am a machine in the field. I can kill and maim and do all manner of nasty, grisly things, but there in the hotel when I came to—” He held up his hands and his face contorted. He turned away to the window. “I can’t do that to him ever again.”

  Astrid nodded. “So you decided for both of you.”

  He jerked around. “That’s not how it was.”

  “I beg your pardon, isn’t it?” she asked. “You heard Mariah. Their family has some history with this too. Most military families with soldiers who come back from war do, I think. And Joel knew this all along?”

  “Of course.” Freddie moaned. “He was there before when I had nightmares.”

  “And yet he didn’t go running.” Luc sounded both thoughtful and sarcastic at once.

  Freddie repeated, “I don’t want to hurt him—”

  “I heard you. I understand,” Astrid said firmly. “But you took away the choice of whether he could stay with you or not.”