Behind the Mask (40 page)

A few days after she’d opened the wrong trunk, Abbi became vaguely aware of Cameron getting out of bed just after dawn and slipping quietly out of the bedroom. When she heard no evidence of his leaving the lodge, she eased toward the door and opened it quietly, surprised to find him kneeling in front of the open trunk, touching the coat of his uniform with a kind of reverence. His expression made it clear that his memories were difficult, but she hoped that facing them now would make some progress in overcoming the past—whatever it may be.

“Why don’t you try it on,” she said, startling him.

Cameron leaned back on his heels and sighed. “I lost the right to wear it.”

“By what? Being framed?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“All right, so it’s complicated. But you could still try it on.” He looked at her dubiously and she smiled. “Let me see my husband in uniform. I’m absolutely certain you’ll look much more handsome in it than the Captain of the Guard.”

He scowled and his eyes flickered uneasily. “I don’t think looking good in the uniform is a job requirement,” he snarled and came to his feet. He tried to close the trunk, but Abbi put her hand on the lid to stop him. She took the coat by the shoulders and held it up. He looked skeptical, almost afraid.

She returned his gaze with determination. “Just for a minute,” she said. “Stop being so stubborn.”

Cameron reluctantly slipped his arms into the fine coat. It felt so strangely familiar. As Abbi adjusted the shoulders and smoothed out the wrinkles, he realized that it actually felt good to be wearing it again. He fastened the hooks down the front as if he’d done it thousands of times. But of course, he had. Abbi stood back to look him up and down. Her eyes lit up with admiration, and something that had been cold inside him suddenly turned warm.

“You look incredible,” she said. “It’s you.” She motioned him toward the mirror in the bedroom. He hesitated but couldn’t resist. Looking at his reflection, he could almost imagine the man he had once been. And he was grateful for Abbi finding this and for insisting that he put it on. For the first time in years, he actually caught a glimpse of who he really was.

“How do you feel?” she asked. “As good as you look?

“I don’t know,” he said. “How good do I look?”

“Good enough to make me grateful that I’m your wife. Otherwise, my thoughts could be considered wicked.”

Cameron chuckled and looked at his reflection again. “I will earn the right to wear it again,” he said with determination. “I will show myself in public with my head held high, and maybe I’ll even take you to one of those tedious socials at Castle Horstberg.”

“Being there with you could almost make it bearable,” she said, and he laughed.

Cameron took another long look at himself, attempting to fix an image in his mind that could help him get through the months ahead. Then he removed the coat and impulsively put it around Abbi’s shoulders. He absorbed the way it drowned her petite frame, then he put his arms around her, holding her tightly and imagining her as an integral part of his vision.

“I do love you, Abbi.”

“And I love you,” she said, firmly returning his embrace.

Cameron put the uniform away and nothing more was said, but he found that it hovered in his mind. It represented something that he’d not wanted to look at for a very long time. But looking at it now gave him renewed determination and hope that he could truly be the man he’d once been. He felt himself changing, believing, longing to reclaim the life he’d left behind.

Barely into the first week of March, Cameron woke with his heart beating quickly, knowing an unusual sound must have caused him to be suddenly alert. Staring into the darkness, he waited for a clue. He heard Abbi cry out and turned toward her. Putting a hand on her arm, he found her trembling. He turned her over, surprised to see that she was sound asleep and completely unaware of him. It was startling to see her shiver so vehemently, crying out indeterminable words, yet her eyes remained closed. Grabbing her shoulders, he shook her gently. “Abbi! Wake up.”

Still she showed no response, so he shook her harder. But she slept on, only becoming more frightened. Finally he shouted in frustration, jerking her shoulders. “Abbi!”

Her eyes flew open. Her cries stopped abruptly, but her shivering did not. Her expression showed so much fear that for a moment Cameron felt afraid himself. She grabbed the front of his nightshirt into her fists. “Cameron!” His name came to her lips with astounding relief, and she pressed her face to his chest while her shivering continued. “I’m so cold,” she muttered. “Don’t let me die, Cameron. Make me warm.”

He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “It was only a dream, Abbi,” he whispered with firm reassurance. “Everything is fine.”

“I’m so cold,” she repeated.

“You’re not cold.” He took her hands and pressed them to her face. “You’re not cold, you see.” Looking directly into her eyes, he spoke with slow determination. “It was a dream, Abbi. You’re fine.”

Abbi smiled feebly and relaxed against him. Almost immediately her shivering ceased. Cameron held her in silence until her breathing returned to normal. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked. When she hesitated he pressed gently, “Tell me, Abbi.”

“It felt so real,” she began, “just like the night you found me. I could feel myself climbing, fighting the storm. I could feel the cold—frightening cold. And then I saw Blaze. But I couldn’t reach him. And then I saw you sitting on Blaze, and you were wearing the uniform. I knew it was you, but you were different somehow. It was like I didn’t really know you at all. But I knew if I could reach you that I would get warm, and I wouldn’t die, but I . . .” Her voice quivered. “I could never quite reach you.”

Cameron felt a chill run over his shoulders. If there were prophetic implications to this dream, he didn’t want to discuss them. The accuracy of her dream unnerved him. She
didn’t
really know him. But he had recently been envisioning himself in that uniform, in a situation where Abbi would finally be able to know the full truth.

Cameron tightened his arms around her. “It’s fine,” he whispered, rubbing the back of her head. “It all makes sense. You came very near to dying in that storm. It was a traumatic experience, and your mind is trying to deal with it.” He hoped that would soothe her fears and avoid any lengthy conversations about the other aspects of what she’d dreamed.

Abbi quickly fell back to sleep, and the next day she said nothing more about her dream. But Cameron couldn’t help thinking about it. He’d learned to believe in Abbi’s dreams, and thoughts of this one stirred ideas that he began sending in discreet messages to Georg. Gradually his thoughts hovered more and more in the future, and the messages Georg sent back made the possibilities begin to feel real. But along with the reality there was fear. It was fear that had kept him hiding all these years; knowing in his heart what powers he would have to come up against to return and prove his innocence was no small thing. At times he wondered if he would actually survive. In truth, he knew the odds were against it.

While Cameron speculated over the meaning of all Abbi had brought into his life and where their experiences might lead them, his mind wandered to the dream she’d had several weeks ago. A child on a hobbyhorse, with his face and her red hair. The hope he found in that alone left him breathless. He’d always wanted to believe he could father a child, even though Gwen had implied that the absence of children in their marriage was his fault. Something in him had always ached at the thought of dying without progeny. But now, even the prospect of losing his life did not seem so grim. He believed that even if he didn’t survive, Abbi was the means to see that his son would. Georg would care for them. He’d know what to do. And one day his son could carry on the family traditions that Cameron had been denied. The very idea strengthened his peace, though he hardly dared share his thoughts with Abbi. If she knew the full spectrum of the danger he was in, she would never be able to cope. It was impossible to tell the woman he loved that every officer of the Guard, unless he had come into service in the last few years, would recognize Cameron at a glance. And they would only be too willing to follow strict orders to kill him, in spite of how things might have been at one time. It would be even more absurd to tell Abbi that a part of him didn’t believe he could actually pull off Georg’s plan to restore him to freedom. But he did believe he could make a difference to Horstberg, even if it meant his martyrdom. He was prepared to die for his country, as long as he knew that Abbi would be cared for, that their marriage was legal, and that she had conceived the child who would carry on his name.

Cameron knew little about the signs of pregnancy, but he secretly hoped for evidence that Abbi might be with child. He began counting the days of her cycles, hoping they would stop. But every four weeks she spent a day or two in bed, and the signs were evident. She was most definitely not pregnant. And as spring drew closer, he began to wonder if he’d simply misread the meaning of her dream. Perhaps he couldn’t father children after all.

When discouragement began to tempt him, Cameron forced his thoughts away from speculations about the future. He concentrated instead on the present, enjoying every moment with Abbi as if it were a treasured gift from heaven. But he knew the time they shared was temporary. Abbi’s love as well as her presence had brought him back to life, but he couldn’t deny a growing discontentment with the life they were leading. He could only pray that God would see fit to give them a lifetime.

“Abbi,” he said late one night as he crawled into bed beside her, “I’ve been thinking about the story you told me, about Joseph.” He kissed her brow and whispered close to her face, “Tell me the story again.”

Abbi repeated the story, whispering it into the dark as if her words could literally create the images before their eyes. When she was finished, she told Cameron how her initial interest in the story had helped her believe that her dreams were not just nonsense. “But then,” she said, “last summer, after I came here and you sent me away, I felt troubled at the feelings spurred by the dream that had led me here. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. That’s when I began to pray for help and guidance to understand what I should do and to have the courage to do it. And thinking of all that Joseph went through before he saw his dreams come to pass, I found hope and courage. I knew somehow that God was mindful of me and my purpose in life, just as He had been of Joseph.”

Cameron lay in silence for several minutes, attempting to comprehend the depth of her feelings—and his own. The implications were astounding.

“Where are your thoughts?” she asked, pressing her fingers over his bearded face.

He sighed. “Do you remember when you asked me if I believed in God?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t recall exactly what I told you. I do know that my answer wasn’t very positive. But I have to tell you now that . . . well, I always went to church. It was just something my family did. I believe that for my mother it really meant something. For my father, it was a matter of appearances. For me, it was somewhere in between. I never really doubted the existence of God, but it wasn’t until I found myself in prison that I uttered my first sincere prayers. How patient He must be with those of us who do not acknowledge His existence until we’re in trouble. And when I first came here to stay, I prayed incessantly. After a while, I stopped praying, feeling that I had been abandoned—or at least I thought I’d stopped praying. But looking back, I recall still talking to God in my mind. And now I realize that in spite of my bitterness and weakness, God really did hear me. And perhaps a part of me never stopped hoping that He would. Thinking of Joseph, my bondage seems petty and trite. And, well . . .” He turned to look at her in the fire’s glow, touching her face with adoration. “What I’m trying to say is . . . I always believed in God, I think, but now I
know
He exists, that He’s real. The means by which you have come to me and changed my life could have no other explanation.” He kissed her. “And I am truly grateful.”

“Would you like to know the first dream I had that truly led me to believe it was a gift?”

“Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Before Blaze was born I had a dream. I knew he would be a stallion and that he would lead me to great happiness.”

Cameron leaned up on one elbow as the implication settled in. Blaze had led her
here
. It was one more piece of evidence that divine hands were guiding their lives. “How very amazing,” he said, and then he kissed her.

“Do you want to know what’s even more amazing?”

“I do.”

“If not for Blaze, I never would have survived being here with you.”

“How is that?”

“He gave me a great deal of practice in dealing with a stubborn male.”

Cameron laughed. “You are a wicked child, Abbi girl.”

“I’m not a child
or
a girl,” she said, laughing with him.

“No, you certainly are not. You’re more woman than I’ll ever be able to handle. Perhaps Blaze and I should chat about his experience in getting along with a fiery sorceress.”

She laughed again. “He’ll just tell you that it’s always best to let me have my way.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” he said and kissed her again.

Long after Abbi fell asleep in his arms, Cameron gazed upward, praying in his heart that God would see them through this. At moments it was difficult to believe that his visions of the future could come to pass as he hoped they would, but he told God that the only chance of it happening would depend on them working together. In spite of all logic, Cameron simply wanted a life with Abbi. If they were to have a child, he wanted to be there to see it born, and to watch it grow. He wanted to live, and to be free. He prayed that it wasn’t too much to ask.

For the next three days it snowed constantly. When the sun finally came out again, Cameron announced, “This snowfall has been heavy and wet. I’ve got to go up on the roof and get some of that snow down, otherwise we could have some leaking.”