by Kyle Baxter
“And what happened in that time? You spent whole days and nights—ugh—together. You’re queer. That’s like months for straight people.” She patted a napkin on her upper lip, removing the mustache. Too bad, Joel was enjoying it and choked out a laugh. “Asshole,” she snapped. “And didn’t you get into a gunfight by his side? How many people do that? That was so crazy. Ooooh, it’s like a gay version of The Rundown. You know, with the Rock and Seann William Scott? Hot guys with guns and explosions. Were there explosions?”
He closed his eyes and let out a puff of air. “There were no explosions.” Thank God for that!
She checked her manicure. “Maybe you two can tour the world and have adventures. You both like history and museums and crap. You can be gay mystery archaeologists!”
“You can’t just be gay mystery archaeologists. You need a degree,” Joel countered. “Or something . . .”
“There are degrees in gay mystery archaeology?” Her eyes went wide and she leaned forward. “What kind of degree would that even be? Archaeology with a minor in queer studies? Maybe your prince can buy you a degree.”
“There aren’t . . .” He slumped back in his chair.
“You’re being so boring, Joel,” Caty said with a mouthful of gelato. “Those guys over there are looking at you. They’re supposed to be flirting with me. The least you could do is look back.”
“Sorry.” Taking a bite, he looked up to see two handsome young men, shirts open halfway down. Were their chests waxed? They were so smooth, and yes, they were definitely eyeing him. Any other time it would be a huge compliment, but now? “Maybe next time.” He gave her a slight smile and a playful nudge.
She punched him in the shoulder in return. “Pining is so exhausting to watch. You could at least make out with one of them for me. Men kissing is hot.”
“You want to see me make out with one of them? Me, your brother? God, you’re weird.”
“At least then you’d be doing something.” She balled up her napkin and threw it at him. “Tomorrow, Mom and Dad are taking all of us on a tour of St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City. You are going.”
“Caty—”
“No. Lift your chin up and go with us. You can spend your nights in the hotel being as miserable as you want, but in the days, you’re going with us, wherever we go. I have to have someone to talk to,” she said and then got up and flounced away.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Somewhere Only We Know
The air on the mountain was crisp and cool. The unseasonable cold snap left off almost as quickly as it arrived. The ski resort village moved back into the off-season. Only the highest peaks and the glacier still attracted the faithful.
Though the climb up here was nothing anyone couldn’t make, Frederick had never actually come here before. Climbing and skiing were Alley’s sports, not his. Alley. He wilted. He should have come here sooner. He wanted to bring Joel up here.
Looking to the ridge high above, Frederick took a deep breath and continued up the trail. After another hour, he came to the clearing near where they found the body. Although Alois lay in the family crypt, a small marker was left here. Climbers and tourists regularly left flowers, like the little bouquet there now and, oddly enough, a lei. Huh.
Alois was out that weekend with a group of nine ski tourers and friends. Everyone was fairly experienced, and they were on their way to spend the night at a cabin farther up. A surprise winter storm forced them to batten down and spend the night outdoors on the exposed mountainside rather than continue on.
Alois left the group to head back down to get help, and that was when he fell. No one knew exactly what happened, but they thought he came across an unseen trench. They knew he lost a ski, as they found it farther up. A climber saw him fall end over end and cartwheel down the mountain, then immediately alerted police. It must have been terrifying. A rescue helicopter went out as soon as the weather cleared. Alois’s body was found two days later in a tree.
Frederick shuddered thinking about it.
Four of the skiers died in the hospital after they were rescued. Five survived and were treated for hypothermia. To a one, they praised Alois and his efforts.
Asshole, he thought. Why’d you have to leave me? His stomach roiled, and he chastised himself, Alois died. It’s not about you. He plopped down in front of the small monument and ran a hand over it. It was nothing more than a local stone that had been moved here to mark the spot. Nothing identified what it was or who it was for, and Fredrick thought that was right. It was the way Alley would have wanted it. He pulled the grass from around it, clearing the space so it was more visible.
He looked around, taking it all in. It was a nice little place with a view of the valley below. This clearing was green and open. It smelled of spruce and pine, wildflowers and grass. Birds chirped and darted around. A smile broke over his face. Both Alley and Noah would have liked it here.
I wish they’d met in life.
Reaching for his backpack, he grabbed it and then pulled it to him. He fished inside and retrieved a small photo from a pocket and unfolded it. It was a picture of Noah from when he graduated from university. He ran a finger over it. He was so young. It was a Noah he didn’t know, but it was the only picture he could find of him without bothering his family. He laid the photo by the marker and set a stone on it to hold it down.
Today was the anniversary of Noah’s death. No wonder I’m having nightmares. The literature said it wasn’t uncommon for them to get worse as you got closer to the date.
Poking around inside his bag, he snagged the sandwich and beer he packed. He popped the top off the beer and took a long draught. That’s good. Then he poured some out on the ground in front of the marker and the photo. “Prost!”
“I wish you could meet Joel. You’d like him, Alley. He’s kind and so smart. He doesn’t even know how smart he is. Noah, I think you’d like him too. You should’ve seen him throw that Molotov cocktail. I still can’t believe it.” He chuckled. “And then he picked up the Uzi, replaced the magazine, and slapped it in! Americans are amazing.” He shook his head. “And the way he takes the piss out of me . . . He is such a pain in the ass. I miss his crooked smile.”
He let out a long breath, raised his beer again, and remembered a toast he and Noah heard a drag queen say at a club in Voho. “Here’s to you, here’s to me, may we never disagree, but if we do? Fuck you! Here’s to me!” He took a long drink and laughed at that for a while until he realized he was crying too.
“Alley, I wish you were here. I could really use your help. I’m crown prince now and I don’t think I’m up for the job. I know you never wanted part of that life, but I think you’d be better at it. Noah, I’m not sure you ever believed I was really a prince. You always teased me, called me Your Worship. God, I miss you both. I’m not sure how I’m still going on. . .” He cried. Openly bawled. It was the first time he’d let himself do that in a very long time. It felt good. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he nodded and set his jaw. “I love you both so much.”
Frederick ate his sandwich in the peace and quiet, then packed up, ready to climb back down again. He was careful to take everything with him and leave nothing behind. A car waited below, and there were people who followed him everywhere. He hated that this was the new normal. But so it was, for the moment.
But he had purpose. He and Astrid had things in motion, and great-grandaunt Renate would be proud. Frederick took one last look at the marker before heading down the path.
“I may not be back up here for a while. I hope you understand, but I have to follow Joel. I have to get him back. I will do anything to get him back. And I’ll try to do right by both of you.”
Something next to the marker in the underbrush caught his eye. He knelt by the stone marker and looked behind it where he didn’t clear the grass. There it was: a little white flower. They weren’t supposed to grow here, not at this low an altitude, but of course it would be here. Perfectly right.
Chapter Thi
rty-Three
Night and Day
It was their last night in Rome before the flight back to the U.S., and Joel was at loose ends. The rest of the family went out to dinner, but he stayed in—again. This was his plan. Last night in the Eternal City and he was drinking his bottle of free Champagne all by himself.
He caught his family’s concerned glances and side-eyes, though the girls had quit haranguing him. His father was talking to him again, almost his old jovial self. Though still evasive about his fracking deal, he was taking lots of phone calls. Joel hoped they’d have news soon. Anything at this point would be a blessing.
Then I can decide on my course of action.
For the moment, he got through as best as he could. Joel recognized that he was sad, and he was okay with that. He had cause, and sadness was something he knew like an old friend. After all, he’d been here before, but this was also different.
Despite everything, he was hopeful. After Seth left, he was sad, and he recovered from that. He would now too. He wasn’t going to feel like an open wound forever. The main regret now—aside from losing Frederick—was that he brought everyone’s vacation down.
He loved Fredrick and suspected he always would. That had not abated. Joel would carry Freddie in his heart forever. And even though he did not want to ever let it go, he knew things were going to be all right, given enough time.
After the first few days in Paris, he quit watching the news—mostly. It was too hard to see the Hero Prince every time he turned on the television. But he kept up with it enough. Joel knew Fredrick’s own European tour was over and he was back in Etreustein. I will see him again. He was determined.
He opened the complimentary bottle of Champagne. Pushing the chair to the window, he then leaned out, glass in hand, and watched the passersby. Only occasionally did he look off into the direction of Etreustein.
It was a lovely balmy night, and he found that if he closed his eyes, he could easily imagine he was back in the French Quarter. In his mind, he was there with Larry and Freddie, sitting on the balcony of a dive bar off Decatur Street. He could even hear the strains of a jazz band at a club down the street. He wasn’t sure if it was the Champagne, but he felt hopeful and glorious.
A limo pulled up below, but he didn’t pay it any mind. There were always limos coming and going on the Via Degli Artisti. They were in the heart of Rome. But the knock on the door minutes later surprised him. Opening it, his jaw dropped.
What is she doing here? Duchess Julia, whom he hardly knew, waited in the hallway. There’s a duchess at my door . . . I have the strangest life.
“May I come in?” She stood regal in a simple navy-blue midi dress cinched at the waist and wore a heart locket around her neck. He thought immediately how much like Audrey Hepburn she was, especially here in Rome.
“Wow. Pardon me,” he mumbled, stepping backward. What the hell is going on? “Please come in.” After she entered, he stuck his head out and looked around. There was no sign of Frederick. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Disappointed, definitely, but not surprised.
Duchess Julia took a turn around Joel’s small single room.
“This is a surprise. How are—”
“I suppose you know why I’m here,” she interrupted abruptly.
That confused him. She was looking down her nose at him, and from their previous exchange, that was not like her. What was up? “No, I haven’t the foggiest idea why you’re here.”
“There’s a rumor that Prince Frederick has decided to renounce the throne of Etreustein.”
That can’t be. Joel’s jaw dropped again. “What? Why? No, he can’t do that. He can’t renounce the throne. His people need him. His family needs him.” This was odd. What was going on?
“That much we agree on.” She walked to the window and looked onto the street, then turned back to him. “I want to hear it from you: that you didn’t put him up to this. He is the crown prince of a sovereign country. He does not date such things as American waiters.”
That definitely did not sound like her. A pit formed in his stomach. Was I wrong about her all along? “What date? No, we aren’t dating.”
Julia let out a breath. She was visibly relieved. “Good, such a thing would be impossible. This is not to be borne.”
He watched her carefully. When they talked before, she was warm and pleasant. Now she was cool and distant. It was like a whole different person. A thought occurred to Joel. “If it’s impossible, then why are you here?”
“To hear it denied by you.” Her lovely chin jutted out as she settled into the chair by the window.
He leaned a shoulder on the wall. “Again, if it’s impossible, then I can’t deny it. Isn’t that a logical fallacy?”
“If he renounces the crown, he will be . . . shunned.” Her voice broke a little. This seemed to be difficult for her. “It will throw the country into chaos and his parents will disown him. He will never see them again.”
Something was off about all this, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It danced on the periphery of his consciousness. “Would you like some Champagne?” He held up the bottle and the second glass that came with it. Maybe some alcohol would loosen her up and he could find out what was really going on. Did Karl send her on some kind of mission to test him? It sounded far-fetched but . . . No, it would be just like him!
“Thank you, please,” she said.
He poured the glass and handed it to Julia. Then, sitting in the chair opposite her, he narrowed his eyes. Something about this was familiar.
“Are you in contact with Frederick?” She took a sip of Champagne.
“No, I am not.” Sadly, that was true. His bravado fell a bit.
“Are you engaged . . . Excuse me . . . I mean, do you have a kind of arrangement with him?” she asked. There was something in the way she said that word that caught his attention.
“Oh God no. I would never do that, and I think you know that.” Whatever else, he was not going to be the other woman. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this?”
She ignored that and pushed on. “And can you promise me that you won’t contact him?”
He laughed out loud. “Oh no, I can’t.” It was almost the funniest thing she could have asked.
“No?” Julia was genuinely amazed.
“No. No way, no how,” Joel said. This was his second glass of bubbly and he was definitely feeling his Wheaties. “I mean, I’m not planning to contact Freddie or anything. It might jeopardize my dad’s business deal. But you know, who knows what’ll happen after all this is over and I’m back at home and it’s the middle of the night and I’ve had way too much wine? I thought about deleting Freddie’s number, but I couldn’t force myself to do it—even though they took his phone away. So no, I will not promise you I won’t contact him.”
She stood up quickly and stamped her foot. “I am not used to being talked to this way.”
He leaned back in his chair and looked up at her. “That’s terrible for you, but it doesn’t matter to me.”
“If he gets with you,” she said, and Joel’s eyes went wide at the colloquialism. “He will be disowned. He will be a pauper, like you.”
Pauper? The more he thought about it, the more out of character her behavior seemed. She was Alois’s girlfriend. Would she really consent to coming down here on a really weird mission from Karl? She’d stand by Frederick. That was easy. She loved him. But this? No, this was odd.
Joel shrugged. “I don’t care. When I met him, I had no idea he had money and I still loved him.”
“You . . . ?” She sank down in the chair, and a wistful expression came over her face. “You love him?” There it was. That was the real Julia!
Joel looked down and sighed. “Yeah, I love that stupid bloke.” Then he remembered her saying, “This is not to be borne,” and snapped his fingers. That’s it. He looked up at her surprised face. “Are we . . . Are you doing a bit? That’s it, isn’t it?”
Julia almost choked on he
r sparkling wine. She recovered gracefully, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she gave him a cool smile. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
“Is this rehearsed?” He twirled a finger in the air.
“Yes.” Her facade faltered a bit. “I had the entire train ride down here to think about this, to rehearse. This is important.”
“No, no, no.” He pointed at her and laughed. “You’re doing the Lady Catherine thing, from Pride and Prejudice. You’re voicing your displeasure.”
“I am voicing my displeasure,” Julia stammered. “But I do not know this Lady Catherine.”
He smirked at her from under his brow. “You’re smarter than that. I’m sure you know your Austen.”
She blushed, smiled, and sat back in her chair. Her entire body relaxed. She was doing a bit! He liked this woman.
Julia gave him a wide, unladylike grin and held out her glass. “That was fun but exhausting. How do actors do it?”
“That was . . . something. It was a prank?” So Freddie isn’t giving up the crown. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He poured her more Champagne. “Why did you do this?”
Julia pulled off her heels. “I was curious and a little worried. I’ve only seen Frederick lately at public events, and his mood is dour. It has been since you and your family left. I heard only vague details of what happened, but I wanted to find out how you were and how you really felt about him. He told me that you two shared a love of Jane Austen, so I thought I’d pay you a visit and have a little fun.”
“Lady, you are a nut.” Joel chuckled. She’s a hot mess! Robert would love her.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely and drained her glass. “I like you, and ‘There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well . . .’” She gave him an exaggerated wink as he refilled her glass.
He smiled. “More Austen, well done.” They clinked their glasses together.
“But seriously, Joel, how are you doing?” Julia reached over and took his hand. “I know Frederick’s miserable, and I have to assume you are too.”