The Border
By Kim Fielding
4/5
()
About this ebook
Injured in a war that has stretched on for years, Sergeant John Peterson guards a lonely border. Aside from passing contact with railship captains, the only person he sees is the enemy: the man who guards the other side of the border. A bad fall places John’s life in the other soldier’s hands. He’s wary of his rescuer, First Lieutenant Thomas Fellowes, but over time he finds himself drawn to his new companion. Both soldiers carry the war in their souls, but they might find peace in each other.
Kim Fielding
Kim Fielding is pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. Her books span a variety of genres, but all include authentic voices and unconventional heroes. She’s a Rainbow Award and SARA Emma Merritt winner, a LAMBDA finalist, and a two-time Foreword INDIE finalist. She has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and currently lives in California, where she long ago ran out of bookshelf space. A university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full-time, she also dreams of having two daughters who occasionally get off their phones, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a cat who doesn’t wake her up at 4:00 a.m. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others. Blogs: kfieldingwrites.com and www.goodreads.com/author/show/4105707.Kim_Fielding/blog Facebook: www.facebook.com/KFieldingWrites Email: kim@kfieldingwrites.com Twitter: @KFieldingWrites
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Reviews for The Border
10 ratings1 review
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5There have been a lot of senseless wars in our planet's history, and this story looks at the consequences of one such conflict on two men who used to fight on opposing sides. All we know is that John is a Westerner, and Tom is an Easterner. And that is all we need to know, other than the fact there is currently a truce, and they are still guarding their respective sides of the border as if the war were still going on. Sound familiar?
John has been at his post for so many years he can hardly remember time before. But the scars from his damaged leg are there to remind him, as are his failed ambitions to become an architect. His job is to inspect railships passing the border with cargo and people, but there aren't many of them and so he has lots of time to read - and to think. It is lonely past, and even though the Eastern guard is right across the fence, John never thinks to talk to him. They are enemies, right?
All that changes when John falls from the roof of his guard's hut while trying to repair it and "the Easterner", or Tom, comes to his rescue. Turns out Tom used to be a medic, but wanted to be a farmer. This and many other details are revealed as the two ex-enemies start to talk while John heals. The slow process of building trust, thinking about some hard truths, and discovering what's really important is beautifully described and I loved watching both men become human again as they turned their backs on being soldiers.
If you like enemy-to-lover stories, if you enjoy a moral message that makes you think packaged in a nicely unspecific setting, and if you're looking for a read that will make you smile and fill your heart with hope, then you will probably like this short story.
NOTE: This book was provided by Dreamspinner Press for the purpose of a review.
Book preview
The Border - Kim Fielding
The Border
TODAY WAS Sunday. That meant the first railship wouldn’t arrive until nearly lunchtime, and that meant John could stay in bed. He couldn’t sleep—the sunlight through the ratty lace curtains was too bright—but he plumped the pillow under his head and gazed sleepily at the painted slats of the ceiling. A fly buzzed against the window, and birds chirped noisily outside. He’d loved spring when he was a boy, sitting in his schoolroom, staring out the windows, counting the days until summer arrived with its promises of endless freedom. False promises, as it turned out. Which was why he preferred spring, when he could still dream.
Since he was awake anyway, he allowed his hand to wander lazily across his bare skin. He tugged at his chest hair and then tweaked his nipples. Little sparks of brightness zoomed through his body. His palm crept lower. His muscles weren’t as well defined as they used to be, but they were still strong and his stomach was lean. His cock was the most alert part of him this morning. It stood proudly at attention, awaiting inspection. As he stroked it, the sparks settled low in his belly, igniting a warm fire. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and slowly rolled his hips. He could do this for hours if he wanted. No urgency this morning.
But then the soft skin of his inner arm brushed against the knotted mess of scars at his hip, and just like that, memories awoke as well. He jerked his hand away and the fire went out as if it had been doused by a bucket of cold water. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.
He levered himself out of bed and began his routine.
The bathroom was so tiny that he barely fit inside, and shutting the door required an awkward maneuver that wasn’t worth it. There was no one to see him; he was always alone.
Back in the main room of the hut, he pulled on a pair of boxers and his uniform trousers. Maybe he would do his laundry later, after the first railship passed through. He’d have three hours before the second one arrived.
He lit the stove, filled the kettle, and waited for the water to heat. He was running low on coffee. Maybe if the peace held, he’d be able to get some of the real stuff instead of the synthetic crap he’d been drinking since… longer than he cared to think about. What did the real stuff taste like? Maybe not as good as he remembered.
He thought about heating up tinned sausage for breakfast but decided he didn’t feel like cooking and then washing up. He gnawed a stale roll instead, dunking it in his coffee to soften it.
He was leaning against the metal counter of the little kitchenette when he caught movement outside. He bent a little to peer through the curtains.
The Easterner was collecting some items from the ground near the other hut. He wore an undershirt and uniform trousers—brown instead of blue like John’s. No hat, and his dark brown hair was a mess. The man had been away from a barber for two months; he needed a cut.
John realized he was running the fingers of his free hand through his