Behind the Mask (127 page)

“I told you that day . . . about the dream that led me to you.”

“Yes.”

“I omitted something. I couldn’t say it at the time. I knew it would make you more angry, or that you would discredit it. But for me it was the most important point. It was the very thing that kept me thinking of you all those weeks, that drove me to the meadow over and over. It haunted me night and day.”

“What?” he asked, almost breathless to consider that some element of her initial dream might have had such an impact on their lives.

“I didn’t tell you that . . . in the dream . . . I heard your voice; you spoke to me.”

“Something I’ve said to you since?” he asked, certain it would have been premonitory.

“No. You’ve never spoken such words, but their truth has been evident all along. You said . . . ‘Please don’t leave me. I need you.’ ” Cameron could hardly breathe as the full meaning penetrated his spirit, and then she stated such a horrible irony. “But you sent me away.”

“I was such a fool,” he said. She turned to look at him, and he added, “I
did
need you, Abbi. I need you now; I will need you as long as there is breath in me.”

She said nothing. Her eyes only looked disbelieving and hollow before she turned again to look out the window. “It’s snowing again,” she muttered. “Isn’t it odd how it keeps snowing when spring should be here?”

“Yes,” he said, recalling how blessed the spring snow had been last year when it had given them more time together in seclusion. If he could have seen this day, what might he have done differently? He didn’t even want to think about it.

Cameron hurried to get dressed and leave the room. His frustration was so deep and intense that he almost feared shouting at her, something he knew would only widen the chasm between them. He began counting hours until he could get her away from here, rooted in the hope that God would keep His part of the bargain.

As soon as Cameron left, Abbi went back to bed. Her thoughts wandered through the same old caverns, and with them more tears came. She forced back her emotion when a maid knocked at the door to say that her father was here to see her.

“Bring him in,” Abbi said as she sat up in bed and smoothed her hair. He’d been out of the country and hadn’t come to see her for a couple of weeks.

“Abbi, my princess, as beautiful as ever.” Gerhard crossed the room and bent to kiss her. “And how are you feeling?”

“A little better every day,” she lied.

“Flowers for my favorite daughter,” he said, pulling a bouquet out from behind his back.

Abbi smiled, knowing she was his
only
daughter. “These must be from the hothouse,” she said, inhaling the mixed fragrances of many vibrant blossoms. “It’s still too cold to grow flowers so beautiful anywhere else.”

“I thought they would brighten up the room a little,” he said, sitting in the chair by the bed. “You must be sick to death of being cooped up in here.”

“I am, yes,” she said, again feeling as if she were lying.

“I know it’s difficult, Princess,” he said. “But you’ll be up and about in no time, taking this country by storm.”

Abbi tried to pass his comment off with indifference, but it struck too close to a very sore nerve. She hung her head and tried to blink back her emotion, but Gerhard touched her chin and lifted her face to his view. “What is this?” he demanded when tears trickled down her face.

Abbi didn’t know her father well enough to know whether or not he was perceptive. She hoped that he wasn’t as she swallowed and simply said, “I’m just so tired of this . . . of feeling so weak and useless.”

Gerhard’s eyes narrowed on her. “I can understand, but that’s not all. Something’s troubling you deeply. I can see it in your eyes. And I want you to tell me what it is.”

“I . . . really don’t want to talk about it,” she insisted, just as she had a hundred times to her husband.

“I don’t care,” Gerhard countered. “I know I’ve not been much of a father to you, but I’m your father nevertheless. And I’ll not have you holding secrets inside that are tearing you apart.”

Before she could even consider whether or not to respond, his words lured her fragile emotions to the surface. She felt indescribably relieved as the dam burst on her pent-up emotions. There was one point in her conversation with Elsa the previous day that had hovered with her. Instinctively she knew it was the heart of the problem. She
did
want to talk about it. But she couldn’t address it with Cameron, for reasons that were difficult to define. Discussing it with Elsa had been good, but perhaps a part of her believed that Elsa’s opinion might be distorted. Instinctively she wanted her father’s perspective, but she just didn’t know how to say it at all without sounding like a fool. After crying like a child in her father’s arms for better than twenty minutes, she concluded that acting like a fool was no longer relevant.

“What is it?” Gerhard asked gently when her tears quieted but she refused to let him go.

Abbi was grateful that her father had been present when Nikolaus had been holding her hostage. It made it easier to tell him how the things Nikolaus had said and done had haunted her deeply. He listened, then firmly reminded her that Nikolaus’s behavior had been evil and deplorable. He told her things she’d once said herself—things that Elsa had reminded her of yesterday—that she could not allow his deeds to destroy her own happiness. Abbi absorbed her father’s words, then went on to vent many of the same emotions that had come out yesterday, related to the struggles that had accompanied falling in love with Cameron du Woernig, and how they had only amplified once she had known his true identity. She wondered why she felt compelled to spill it all again, as if what burdened her had become so deeply ingrained that she had to speak it all twice to believe that what she felt was real. She cried, and talked, and spilled her every thought, her every emotion, until there was only one more thing to say: the hardest truth of all.

“I can’t do it,” she admitted. “I can’t be a duchess.”

Gerhard looked astonished. “Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me. That’s what I
feel
. I am simply not the kind of woman who can live this life. I can’t do it. I’ll only let him down. That’s all I’ve done is let him down.”

“Abbi.” Gerhard eased back, keeping her hand in his. He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but he seemed too stunned to say anything more.

“At least I’ve given him an heir,” she said softly, “although I almost failed at that.”

“Your son is beautiful and healthy, Abbi, but that is the least of what you are capable of doing for this country—and for Cameron. You were
born
to this, Abbi. This is your destiny; it’s what God intended for you to do. I know it with all my heart and soul.”

Abbi was a little taken aback by his vehemence. She forced her voice enough to ask, “How . . . can you know?”

“Oh, Abbi.” He laughed. But not in mocking her. It was as if he felt complete joy in that moment. “If I tell you how I know, will you promise not to accuse me of being crazy?”

“Why would I?” she asked, while something in her father’s attitude already felt calming.

“Because I’ve never told anyone. I’ve always felt a little crazy, and I feared no one would really understand or believe what I felt in my heart.”

Abbi felt a chill run over her shoulders, and her breath quickened. How could she not relate to what he was saying as she recalled the dreams she’d had in the past? It wasn’t until Georg had told her she had a gift that she’d felt any sanction at all. “I’m listening,” she said.

“Abbi,” he leaned closer, and his voice became hushed, as if he feared the walls might overhear, “before you were born, I had a dream.” Abbi gasped and became breathless. “I dreamed of a woman with hair like fire, and I knew she was my daughter. She wore the crown of Horstberg, and all who encountered her were in awe. But it wasn’t so much the dream itself,” he said, “as the way it made me feel. I’ve never felt anything like it before or since. And the feeling hovered with me through the years. When your mother died and I got myself into trouble, Papa disowned me and sent me packing. I couldn’t blame him, really. I’d gambled everything away that I had any claim to. But I felt lost and useless. I knew Papa would raise you far better than I ever could, but I wanted to do something for you that would make a difference in your life. That’s when I realized the purpose of my dream. I went to the castle, begging for work. I started by mucking out stables, cleaning out fireplaces, pulling weeds, and scraping snow. I did whatever they’d let me do for any price they would pay me. I maneuvered and manipulated my way into better positions, one little step at a time, hoping and praying that one day I would make contact with the right person to bring my daughter to the attention of the royal family. I was amazed at how quickly I actually ended up working with the young prince as his valet. But you were still so young, and fate twisted it all wrongly—or so I had thought.”

Gerhard tightened his grip on her hand. “Abbi, do you have any idea how I felt when I realized that Cameron was alive, and
you
had been with him? And for all that I had believed I’d failed, I was the man who could prove him innocent and restore him to the throne? Oh, Abbi, Abbi. God works in mysterious ways. And He has put you exactly where you are supposed to be.”

Abbi’s next breath was so sharp that she wondered for a moment if she’d stopped breathing through the course of her father’s little speech. In response to his expectant gaze, all she could manage to say was, “I don’t believe it.”

“And that is the heart of the problem, my dear. You will never have light enough to make a difference in this world, until you find that light within yourself.”

“I’m not so sure there’s any light in me . . . none of any consequence at least. I feel so . . . inadequate.”

“Listen to me. If you could see in yourself what everyone else sees in you . . . what I’ve seen in you from the start . . . you would understand.”

“But I
don’t
understand. How can
I
be that important? I grew up wearing calico and practically living in the stables.”

“So?” he countered. “Look at where you are, not where you’ve been. Look at
who
you are, in here.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Do you think some senseless tomboy could march into Cameron du Woernig’s life and knock him on his ear? Do you have any idea what kind of man he was before his exile?”

Abbi’s heart began to pound. Was
this
the purpose of her most recent dream? To give her the answer to that question? She
did
know. But she was too stunned to say anything before her father went on.

“Cameron du Woernig had Horstberg in the palm of his hand while he was still a pimpled youth. He always had a good heart, but he knew his power, and he would not be trifled with. Gwendolyn Dukerk certainly tried to control him, but she never did. He was on to her the first time she looked at him sideways. But you . . .
you,
Abbi. You have tamed a lion, my dear. Why? Because you were the woman born to do it. Because you were destined to take Cameron du Woernig by the hand and lead
him
to
his
destiny.”

Abbi looked away, allowing her thoughts to churn through everything he’d just said. She added to it her own personal evidence of the dreams she’d had. But even excluding her dreams, the feelings she shared with Cameron were undeniable and too incredible to discount. Would God have led her into a situation, so obviously putting His hand into her life, only to leave her stranded in a position that would make her unhappy the rest of her life? For the first time since the crown had been put on her head, the answer to that question almost made sense. Still, she felt afraid and uncertain.

Gerhard’s voice intensified. “Do you not believe me, Abbi?”

“Yes, but . . . it’s just . . . so overwhelming. How can I be this woman you’re describing?”

“Abbi, there is no law that says what
kind
of duchess you have to be. There is certain etiquette to be followed and certain expectations politically. But beyond that, what you do with this position is up to you. You don’t have to be like any duchess gone before. There is no mold to be filled. You are Abbi du Woernig. Your unique qualities will make you great, not your attempts to adapt to someone else’s expectations. I know Cameron wouldn’t want you to change. Nobody does.”

She was surprised when he reached out and took the little black pearl she wore around her neck. “Do you remember what I told you when I gave it to you?”

“Yes,” she said and trembled inside.

“When I left you in your grandfather’s care, there was one thing I wanted you to know more than any other—that your unique qualities were the very characteristics that would make you great. You were never like other little girls, Abbi. And there is no woman like you. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.
You
are meant to be here, Abbi, and no one else. You have the ability within you to be truly great—not in spite of who you are, but because of it.”

At her continued silence, Gerhard went on. “Such things don’t happen overnight, Abbi. It takes hard work. It takes courage, and sometimes you just have to fight for what you believe in. Everybody has dreams, Abbi. Few of them are as literal as mine was. But it’s not sufficient to simply have a dream. You have to believe in it enough to fight your way through any obstacle that might spring up in your path. You have to take what God gives you and make the most of it. And many people are just too afraid to keep believing and keep fighting. But there are a few who are the dreamers of the world; they are the ones who will stop at nothing. You are one of those people, Abbi. And if I gave you nothing else, I would hope that I could pass along the ability to dream, and to do everything in your power to make your dreams come true.”