The War between the States is raging and Angelina Stone's world is falling apart. Her beloved father lies rotting in a Union prison and when her Georgia home is invaded by Yankee officers, Angelina knows she will never be the same again. One night will change her life forever...

Will Angelina be able to overcome her fears, lay prejudice aside, and learn to trust? When the stakes are high, will she risk losing everything? Only by doing so can she face the demons of her past and win the battle that rages in her own heart - a heart that is eternally tethered to . . . the enemy.

Angel and the Enemy is an historical romance set against the backdrop of the Civil War where loves were lost and lives were changed. It was an era where men fought for freedom, independence, and unity. Yet, when the dust settled and the war was over the real battle raged on within the hearts of individuals. Angel and the Enemy captures the strength of the human spirit in overcoming adversity in a sweeping tale of love, honor, and betrayal.

Chapter 1

August 1864

Angelina stomped her weathered work boot down on the shovel. It jarred her entire body, but her efforts did little to break through the unyielding earth. She was discouraged by the insignificant amount of dirt that resulted from her efforts, but tossed it into the pile forming under a large hickory tree. She and her brother had been working for some time, but the hole still wasn't deep enough for a decent grave.

With each shallow scoop of earth Angelina removed, the thunder cracks grew louder and the lightning flashes brighter. Again her foot pounded on the shovel, and then as if choreographed to match her footwork, rain broke through the heavy gray blanket overhead. Within seconds, Angelina's blouse and skirt soaked up the moisture.

The rain softened the ground somewhat; making it a little easier to break the soil, but Angelina knew from experience that Georgia clay only becomes heavier when wet. She quickened her pace as ragged lightning attacked a helpless dogwood on the other side of the pasture. Angelina's eyes moved from the tree to the thick clouds above her. She glanced at her lanky younger brother, Cal, who motioned for her to give him the shovel so he could take a turn again. He took it, pushed up his shirtsleeves on his tanned arms and started digging.

"This may have to do. No point 'n gettin' ourselves killed too," Angelina looked from the shallow grave to the corpse.

I'm sorry, boy, so, so sorry! Angelina shook her head as she stared at the dog's white fur. Her mind darted back to the previous afternoon when Sam had trotted alongside her, wagging his tail happily as he accompanied her to the barn. He'd been such an enjoyable companion, sitting with her as she milked old Gerty every morning and night. Such a good listener! A wistful smile flickered across her face as she remembered pouring out her troubles to the dog. Her mouth hardened into a quivering line, and she blinked back the threatening tears, for the eighteen-year-old couldn't shake the feeling that it was her fault.

The rain fell in buckets now, and Angelina's blouse and skirt clung to her feminine form. She brushed her hand across her forehead, but water continued to drizzle down her face. Her long brown eyelashes batted in a vain attempt to stop the river of liquid from pouring into her vibrant green eyes.

"This 's gonna have to do, Cal," she reached toward the dog. Cal took one set of legs while Angelina took the other, and they dragged the stiff, seventy-pound animal into the shallow grave. Having only one shovel between them, Cal scooped dirt from the pile onto the dog while Angelina shoved her gloved hands into the mound and threw clods of earth over it. The dirt was even heavier than expected because the clods clung together, connected by mangled strands of grass and buckwheat.

As Angelina's gaze shifted from the corpse to the mound of dirt, she wasn't convinced this was enough soil to keep the carcass from stinking later on in the sweltering August sun. It would have to be enough, though. They must finish the job now. She certainly didn't want to come back later to complete the task. It broke her heart to see Sam already turning yellow around his mouth and eyes. It was bad enough to face his death once, but the thought of returning when the body would be rotting, wet and stinking was more than Angelina could take.

A loud crack of lightning rumbled, sending a shiver up Angelina's spine. Her wide eyes met her brother's. The pair threw clods of dirt and grass upon the animal as fast as they could until the carcass was covered with a layer of earth. Satisfied they'd done all they could in the little time they had, the teenagers took off running.

They stopped at the gate, opened it, and Angelina ran toward the house, leaving Cal to latch the gate behind them so the horses wouldn't get out of the corral. "Toss 'at shovel down," Angelina called back over her shoulder. "Metal just draws the lightnin'!"

Sixteen-year-old Cal dropped the shovel by the gate and soon his lanky legs caught up with and surpassed his sister. As they ran up the hill toward home, Angelina swiped at the torrents of water cascading down her face and obstructing her vision.

Panting from their quick ascent up the hill, the siblings stopped on the front porch to catch their breath. Angelina tried to wring the water from her blouse and skirt, letting it splash on the wooden porch while Cal stripped off his wet shirt and tossed it on a rocking chair, then reached to remove his muddy boots.

A little girl's fingers opened the door a crack, her chubby face peeking out to observe her older siblings and the torrential storm.

"Did ya bury 'im?" eight-year-old Eleanor flinched at the deafening thunder crack that rumbled on for several seconds. A second chubby face joined her at the door. The little girl clasped his hand protectively, her fist tightening around six-year-old Joseph's fingers until his appendages looked more like little red sausages than fingers. His big blue eyes grew even wider as his head darted toward another flash of light.

"Yep, done the best we could," Cal answered in a relaxed even tone, unruffled by the lightning and thunder so typical of a Georgia summer rain. Even though her brother was two years her junior, Angelina always felt safe knowing he was nearby. She remembered the day their father rode off for war and how Cal gave her hand an assuring squeeze then pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her soft cries melt onto his shoulder. Cal had wanted to join with their father to fight for the Confederacy, but of course, he was far too young at the time. Everett made his son promise that no matter how long the war lasted, he'd stay with the family and look after them while he was gone. Cal obeyed with reluctant agreement, but once the promise was made, Angelina felt safe because she knew her brother was always true to his word.

Cal's muddy hand shoved the door wider as he tromped inside in his sock feet. Angelina twisted a few more cupfuls of water from her hair, then gave up and tried to wring out her clothing. Finally, giving up on the hopeless endeavor, she stepped inside with the objective of finding a secluded spot to remove the heavy garments. Her mother, Lelia, hurried to the door carrying a towel in each hand and extended them to her children.

~*~

As Angelina's now dry body lay on her cot in the loft, she looked up at the log planks that her father had placed himself when he'd built the house after he and Lelia first married. The piece of Georgia property just South of Chattanooga, Tennessee had been their home for almost twenty years. They'd been happy there until the day Everett left to join the Confederate forces about two years earlier. The family had re

Marnie Pehrson, a mother of 6, has been highlighting truth and talent for 15 years. Whether it's writing a novel that spotlights individuals who've made a difference in the world or helping a talented entrepreneur create a platform for his life's work, Marnie underscores truth and talent in innovative and compelling ways. She is the creator of www.IdeaMarketers.com and helps experts promote their products and services online. For more information on her various projects and books, visit http://www.pwgroup.com. Contact the author, Marnie Pehrson , at marnie@pwgroup.com
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