Unmask My Heart (A Novella)

By Linda Andrews

A broken heart. A man on a mission. A homecoming to remember.

Phoebe Monpetit believed she'd marry Gabriel Stephens. But he abandoned her. For the last twelve years, she's muddled through alone, cobbling together a life. Just as she decides to move on, Gabe returns.

Gabe learned early that love doesn't last. Tired of being a pawn in his parents' endless fights, he fled to school then crossed the Atlantic Ocean. When war explodes across Europe, he realizes what he's really given up.

This Halloween, he'll use every trick he can to win back Phoebe's heart. Will she keep her true feelings covered, or will she let Gabe unmask her heart?

Unmask my Heart is part of a series of romances set in the US during the Great War. If you like characters that walk off the page, unique settings, and romance mixed with adventure and intrigue, then let Linda Andrews take you to a time when only the brave possessed the courage to risk all for love.

Buy Unmask my Heart today and enlist in the fight for true love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Andrews
• Release date: Apr 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311466655

Linda Andrews

Linda Andrews lives with her husband and three children in Phoenix, Arizona. While growing up in the Valley of the Sun, she spent the hot summer months (May through October) in the pool swimming with mermaids, Nile crocodiles and the occasional Atlantian folk. The summer and winter monsoons provided the perfect opportunity to experience the rarity known as rain as well as to observe the orange curtain of dust sweeping across the valley, widely believed by locals to be caused by the native fish migrating upstream.She fulfilled her lifelong dream of becoming a slightly mad scientist. After a decade of perfecting her evil laugh and furnishing her lair, she decided taking over the world was highly overrated. In 1997, she decided to purge those voices in her head by committing them to paper. She loves hearing from anyone who enjoys her stories so please visit her website at www.lindaandrews.net and drop her an email.

Book preview

Unmask my Heart

Love’s Great War: Halloween, Hope's Point, Michigan 1914

By

Linda Andrews

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 by Linda Andrews

Published by Linda Andrews

Cover Design © Gabrielle Prendergast

coveryourdreams.net

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

Hope's Point, Michigan

October 1914

Phoebe Monpetit stumbled onto the boardwalk in front of the bakery. A gust of wind tugged at her woolen coat and a puff of cold air breathed against her high collar. The sky was a robin's egg blue. Fluffy, white clouds scampered across the horizon. Beyond the row of buildings opposite her, gulls greeted each other in Crescent Harbor. Across from the Ojibwa Hotel, a horse jingled in his harness and nodded in the air.

The wind snapped at the blue awning still running the length of Stephens and Sons Dry Goods and Curiosity Emporium. Dust gathered on the display tables in the rain-spotted windows. Phoebe frowned at the white threads dangling from the tear in the canvas and the empty shelves inside. Where the dirt street met the boardwalk, remnants of last night's snowfall gathered like yesterday's forgotten newspaper.

Hanging the basket of empty milk bottles on the crook of her right arm, she rested her hand on the grimy brass door handle.

The sign in the window of Stephens's Emporium was turned to open. Lights blazed inside. But no one stirred. Was the store even open? It wouldn't be the first time Mrs. Stephens had forgotten to close up shop since her husband's death.

And he hadn't returned from his grand tour of Europe.

But Gabriel Stephens was expected back any day, and tomorrow she might encounter him. She wasn't ready. She plucked at her out-of-date clothing. Not yet. She wanted to look her best when they met, in case his time on the continent had made him rethink his promises of love. Taking a deep breath, she wrenched open the door.

Bells tinkled above her head and rattled around the interior.

A dust bunny rolled across the dull wooden planks. A cobweb glistened on a stack of straw hats. A dozen canned goods were all that remained on the wall of shelves along the right. Fingerprints marred the glass case displaying the tarnished silver hair brushes on the left. A few bars of French soap held down the baskets on the bottom of the aisle closest to her. Picked over sundries filled the other aisles. Despite the emptiness, the robust scent of coffee, tobacco, and soap perfumed the air.

Taking the scrap of paper with her needed supplies out of her jacket pocket, she slipped the wooden coat buttons out of their holes. The pile of crates and barrels grew as she approached the counter. Glass crunched underfoot and her eyes burned from the cloying fragrance of roses from a broken perfume bottle. Holding her sleeve to her nose, she filtered the air coming into her lungs.

Mrs. Stephens? The thick fabric muffled her words and she rolled her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she uncovered her nose and mouth and tried again. Mrs. Stephens?

A pot clanged overhead. Then the steps creaked. In the right corner, the curtains concealing the entrance to the private living quarters on the second story fluttered. Mrs. Stephens was coming.

Phoebe retreated from the shattered perfume bottle to stand by a broken snowshoe, under the sign proclaiming Indian Curiosities. She raised her chin. She wasn't ashamed of her Ojibwa blood anymore than her French blood. Her family had been on this island since before the United States came into being. Before the Stephens family came to Hope's Point. And she was here on official school board business.

Hinges creaked. A hand batted at the lemon yellow curtain. Then a head appeared. Short golden curls lay against a perfectly formed skull. Matching brows descended over gray-blue eyes. Firm lips hung under a patrician nose.

Her heart faltered and stumbled to find its usual rhythm. The list of supplies slipped from her numb fingers. The neat rows of printing winked at her as the scrap of paper drifted to the ground.

Gabriel Stephens was back.

No one had warned her. No one. On her milk and egg delivery route this morning, she had seen six people and talked to each of them. Yet they had said nothing. It was a small island! The butcher, the baker, and the blacksmith all lived within a stone's throw of the pier. They had to have known.

I apologize for my appearance. Gabe tucked his arms through the sleeves of his woolen jacket. A fancy white label flashed along the sleek lining before he slipped it over his broad chest.

No homemade clothing for him. Phoebe's mouth opened and closed. Her knees trembled. She was no longer a child. She no longer had a crush on him. Her heart didn't seem to be listening.

Now, what can I do— Adjusting the lapels of his suit, Gabe looked up. He blinked once. Phoebe?

Her reply stuck in her dry throat so she nodded.

A dimple winked in his left cheek. The one he always said came out to play just for her. His gray-blue eyes shifted into sapphire as his gaze traveled from her black hair to her muddy boots. You are looking more beautiful than I remember.

Desire fanned the banked coals in her belly. Heat licked at her. This shouldn't be happening. She couldn't allow this to be happening. Little Bird had warned her to leave the past behind. Phoebe cleared her throat. She would put an end to this nonsense and give her good sense a severe talking to later. I see you've picked up more fancy learning while you've been away.

His brow furrowed and he tilted his head.

Had he become so accustomed to false words that he no longer recognized the fool's gold in their sparkle? I imagine the sophisticated ladies of Europe appreciate your flattery, but you should remember, we islanders are plain spoken folk.

Red suffused his cheeks. A muscle ticked in his jaw. I was born on the island.

True, but you spent half your life in Boston, vacationed at Newport, and rubbed shoulders with royalty. Her teasing tasted bitter in her mouth. "You've washed the island patois from your speech."

Phoebe's teeth clicked together. Had she really just repeated his mother? She couldn't believe it. It must be the shock of seeing him.

A glint flashed in his eyes as they shifted back to gray. "I've acquired a new patois. Part French, part German, and a smattering of... Leaning forward, he dropped his voice. Italian."

Never say so! Oh, the horror. However shall I understand a word you say? Tears burned her eyes. That was the boy she'd fallen in love with. Never taking her seriously and teasing her out of her bad moods. But they were older now and wiser after a fashion. Their paths had diverged but they could still be friends. And she had to accept the olive branch he offered. Blinking rapidly to clear her vision, she slapped her hand over her mouth in feigned outrage.

He laughed. The deep timber of a man grown and certain of his power.

She envied him that. Among other people, she always felt like a boat at sea with a storm on the horizon and no safe harbor in sight. The cigar band he'd given her as a token of his undying love burned between her breasts and weighted the yarn string around her neck.

Gabe had once made her feel a part of something.

She'd slept the night through warmed by the thought.

Gray eyes twinkling, he stopped laughing to grin. I'm sure you can understand the French, but how's your German?

I still remember Mr. Lubeck teaching us to count to ten in German. She couldn't force the smile. Gabe and his best friend had been in Europe when the war broke out. If the newspaper reports were true, perhaps he was glad the old German shopkeeper had been fired. But how could any country that gave rise to the apple-cheeked, rotund man be so barbaric?

Gabe's grin reversed