In this dramatic sequel to Pieces of Silver, again set during World War I, Josef falls in love with one of the most patriotic women in America—who would surely have nothing to do with him if she knew his past.
List Price: $13.99
Page Count: 336
Trim Size: 6 x 9
CPC Sub Category: FGE
Release Date: February 2007
Josef von Woerner is a wanted man—only he doesn’t know it. Raised to love Germany above everything else, Josef once had few qualms about taking any action necessary to deprive the Allies of essential armaments. In this dramatic sequel to Pieces of Silver, again set during World War I, Josef falls in love with one of the most patriotic women in America—who would surely have nothing to do with him if she knew his past.
Downloadable Discussion Questions
Washington, D.C., 1917
Josef swung his legs over the edge of the bed, jolts of pain stopping him abruptly. He couldn’t guess why moving his feet should hurt his head. Carefully grabbing a nearby chair, he leaned on it and struggled to stand.
He’d make it to the bathroom today.
It must be fewer than a dozen steps across the single-room flat. He pulled in a breath as he pushed the chair, then hobbled behind it. It might take fifteen minutes and every ounce of his strength, but he’d make it.
“Hey, what’s this? What are you doing?”
Annoyed rather than relieved to see prospective help, Josef eyed the man entering the room. Hank, lean and middle-aged, tossed aside the bundle he carried in his arms.
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
Josef gave the chair another push, letting it take much of his weight.
“—is over there.” In a forgetful moment Josef pointed with his head. Ice and heat shot through his forehead. He took another step, and sweat poked from above his upper lip.
“All right, all right,” said Hank. “Then let me help you.”
“Just stay out of the way.” Josef took another step, every inch like walking through a tunnel of needles.
The older man stayed put, vaguely surprising Josef. Hank had been hovering like an overpaid nanny since Josef woke up a day ago. He’d awakened in this room where everything was wood: ceiling, floors, walls, headboard, kitchen table and chairs. Each had a different finish, but Josef was in no mood to care about the decorating, or lack thereof. The pounding in his head alternated with lightning slicing his forehead. And through the pain, Josef had been concentrating on remembering—everything . . . anything . . . something.
Nothing came, absolutely nothing. Not even his name.