Behind the Mask (76 page)

“Who’s there?” she asked carefully, wiping at her tears.

“It’s Georg,” came the reply and she quickly opened the door long enough for him to slip inside. “How you doing?” he asked Cameron.

“Better, I think . . . now that I’m coherent enough to see straight. It hurts, but . . . it could be worse.”

“That’s an understatement,” Abbi said fiercely. “He’s lucky he’s not dead.”

“I can agree with that,” Georg said. Cameron scowled and continued eating. Georg nodded toward Abbi and asked, “Would you mind giving us a minute?”

“Of course,” she said, but she didn’t want to. She took the opportunity to peek in on her aunts, if only to avoid having them seek her out later. Then she went in the kitchen to see if there was anything else she could smuggle up to Cameron. She easily located a couple of apples and some cake left from last night’s dinner. She knocked at her bedroom door and Georg let her in. “Am I back too soon?”

“No,” Georg said as Abbi set the food down on the napkin and Cameron made a noise of approval, since he’d practically finished off what she’d given him and he was obviously still hungry. Abbi sat down and Georg added, “I’ll be off. I’ll check in on you later.”

“Wait a minute,” Cameron said, swinging his legs over the bed. “You could at least give me a chance to eat.”

“You can’t leave!” Abbi protested. “The doctor said that—”

“I know what the doctor said,” Cameron interrupted. “But I’ve got to—”

“No!” Abbi insisted. “You’re supposed to rest so you can heal. That’s what he said and . . .” Her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest as Cameron pulled on his boots. “Georg,” she turned to her friend for support, “tell him he can’t go. It’s too dangerous. It’s—”

“She’s right, you know,” Georg said and Cameron glared at him. “Until tonight there is absolutely nothing left to be done that has to be done by you personally. If something happens to you, the rest of this is absolutely pointless.”

“I’ll be careful.” Cameron stood up and grabbed the shirt that Elsa had laundered and mended.

“Careful?” Abbi retorted. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Go back to bed, Cameron,” Georg said. “That’s an order.”

Cameron looked at his friend, so blatantly appalled that Abbi almost feared they’d come to blows over this. “What did you say?” Cameron asked.

“I told you to go back to bed.”

“And I’m telling you that I’m coming with you. If it takes—”

Abbi gasped when Georg reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pistol. Without hesitation he pointed it directly at Cameron, then cocked it. Cameron’s expression was so stunned that it took a moment for the hurt to come into his eyes. “Is that really necessary?”

“Apparently, it is,” Georg stated.

“And you call yourself a friend?”

“Friend enough to see that you put your own pride in check and do what’s smart. We don’t need a dead hero, Cameron. We already have enough martyrs to this cause.” He nodded toward Abbi but didn’t retract the gun even slightly. “You need to slow down and think of Abbi . . . and the baby. She’s not going to give a damn about your cause, or your innocence, if she has to lose you in order to see it through. You told her you’d be careful. You’re
not
being careful. You’re being stupid. Two close calls is one too many. I’m not going to let you make it three.”

Cameron gazed long and hard at Abbi, then shifted his gaze back to Georg. He took a deep breath and stared at the floor, hating the reality he’d just been slapped with—especially because he’d become so blinded by his own ambition that he needed a gun pointed in his face to be forced to see the truth.

“All right,” Cameron said and tossed the shirt back onto the chair, “I’ll stay. Not because you’re pointing that stupid gun at me, but because . . . you’re right.” He looked again at Abbi and added, “Forgive me. I’m being a fool.”

Georg uncocked the pistol and put it back into the hidden holster. Abbi wondered if it had become his habit to carry a gun. The possible reasons were unnerving.

“Don’t get me wrong, Cam,” Georg said, more like himself. “I admire your determination. And I admire what you’re trying to do. I know, as the rest of them know, that you wouldn’t ask anything you aren’t willing to do yourself. But you’ve proven that. And now your safety is more important.” He glanced at Abbi as he took hold of the doorknob. “I’ll be back to check on you, and I want to find you here.”

“Yes,
sir,”
Cameron said with sarcasm.

Georg left the room and Abbi locked the door. Cameron sat weakly on the edge of the bed, not wanting to admit that he really felt in no condition to go anywhere. He knew he should feel humbled—and he did. But humiliated was more accurate. He pushed his hands into his hair and sighed.

“Forgive me,” Abbi said, startling him to the recollection that he wasn’t alone.

He turned to look at her. “Forgive
you
? For what?”

“I feel terribly selfish, wanting to keep you here. I feel like a bothersome mother, preventing you from going out to play with the rest of the boys.”

Cameron smiled wryly at her analogy, then sighed again. “You have nothing to feel sorry for, Abbi. Georg was absolutely right. It’s just that . . . well, sometimes I hate it when he’s right. He’s
always
right. If I had his brains and your insight, I might actually be capable of accomplishing great things.”

“But you do, don’t you?” she asked with an innocent wisdom that continued to leave him in awe. He thought of the gentle way she had stood beside him since the first time he’d seen her, quietly guiding him with her insight and strength. And in much the same way, Georg was always behind him, thinking of things that Cameron would never think of. He reminded himself to be humble enough to listen to those who cared for him most.

“Yes,” he admitted, “you’re right. I do. I just need to be smart enough to pay attention to what you tell me.” He took her hand and urged her to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “I don’t deserve the way you trust me, Abbi. But I swear I’ll make it up to you. Before the sun sets tomorrow, we will know joy like neither of us has ever comprehended.”

“Tell me about it,” she implored softly.

“Freedom,” he whispered. “Freedom to live and love as I choose, and to be known for who and what I really am.”

Abbi held him close and prayed that his vision would come to pass.

Cameron went back to sleep so easily that Abbi felt certain he was still feeling the effects of whatever the doctor had given him. All the better, she thought. While he slept, Abbi had to help Elsa get all of Mrs. Schilling’s wares out of her room and downstairs before she arrived to pick them up. With that taken care of, Abbi had Marta come to her room where they went over last-minute details. Cameron slept on, oblivious to the quiet chattering in the room. He finally woke late afternoon and Marta brought him a tray of double portions left over from lunch.

“Eat hearty,” she said. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

The comment made Cameron smile, but it provoked an uneasy stirring in Abbi. She sat with him while he ate, praying in her heart that Sunday would find them free and safe—and together. Once he’d gone back to sleep, she slipped out of the room to make an appearance with her aunts.

Cameron heard Abbi leave the room and felt an intangible fear settle deeper into him. His encounter with Georg, added upon by Abbi’s ongoing concern, had stirred haunting emotions close to the surface, thoughts he’d not bothered to even glance at since he’d taken hold of the vision for freedom that Abbi had brought into his life. Now, in spite of a lingering drowsiness, sleep eluded him while memories that were better forgotten marched into the forefront of his mind, demanding to be acknowledged. But worse were the anxieties that rose to contend with them. While he considered everything he was presently up against, and all that had led up to it, his present fears made his breathing shallow and his heart pound. He was grateful to be alone while he attempted to force himself to some reasonable perspective in order to feel peace. When his efforts only heightened his fears, he squeezed his eyes closed and prayed with all the fervency of his soul that he could understand the turmoil taking place within himself, and come to terms with it enough to do all that would be required of him.

Cameron lost track of the time while he prayed on and on. He was relieved to feel himself relaxing, but his thoughts continued to roll and boil. Then his heart quickened again. His mouth went dry. Cold sweat oozed from every pore. The perspective in his mind shifted so abruptly that he gasped. He had to believe his prayers had been heard and answered when he could find no other explanation for such a complete and immediate understanding. A deeper level of comprehension flooded him concerning his own behavior these past several months. And he knew
why
it was so important for him to gain that understanding—now—before he took these final steps that would determine the future, not only for himself and the people he loved, but for the people of Horstberg. He marveled at God’s mercy as the miracles of the past year—and this moment—settled into him. Certain of his own many weaknesses and inadequacies, he could only believe that God was using him as an instrument to bring something good to pass for a great many people. But he would never be capable of doing any such thing while deep layers of his thoughts and emotions were so self-destructive.

When Abbi came back into the room, Cameron pretended to be asleep. He needed to talk to her; he knew that saying his thoughts aloud would help him come to terms with them. And he needed to help her understand what
he
had come to understand. But he needed time to fully digest what he’d learned, and to consider how he could ever confess such horrors to his sweet wife. If she could still love and accept him—and forgive him—after she heard what he had to say, then surely they could overcome anything.

He felt Abbi’s fingers on his face and opened his eyes to look at her. With her hair down and the sun behind her, he was struck with how completely beautiful she was. “Are you all right?” she asked. He didn’t answer and she added, “I thought you were asleep, but . . . you looked so . . . distressed. I wondered if you were dreaming.” Still he said nothing. “Are you in pain?”

Knowing she meant the bullet wound, he said, “It’s fine unless I move.”

“You look troubled,” she said, and he didn’t know whether to bless or curse her perception. She sat beside him and leaned against the headboard, urging his head into her lap. “What are you thinking?” she asked gently, pressing her fingers repeatedly through his hair.

He took a deep breath and ventured to explain. “So many thoughts all at once . . . I don’t know where to begin. It’s as if . . . some enormous understanding just opened up in my mind . . . instantly. And I don’t know what to make of it.”

He said nothing more and Abbi let the silence reign, wondering if he simply needed time to sort his thoughts. “Abbi,” he finally said in a voice that was humble, almost frightened, “I need to tell you something.” She waited through more silence. The wedding was tomorrow. Would he tell her his name? His purpose? Would he spill his secrets to her now? “It’s something I hadn’t thought of for a long time; I’d forgotten all about it. Now it feels as if I need to say it or . . . it will undo me.”

“I’m listening,” she said and he eased closer.

More silence. “I don’t want to say it, Abbi. It’s a horrible confession. You could be . . . angry, or . . . upset. You could think less of me.”

Abbi’s heart quickened, wondering what could be so abhorrent. “It’s all right,” she said. “Say what you need to say.”

“Just . . . hear me out, and . . . then we can talk about it.”

“I’m listening,” she said again.

“Do you remember when I told you that God had sent you to save my life?”

“Of course.”

“You saved my spirit, Abbi. You gave me hope. You changed everything, but . . . you need to know something that . . . I don’t think I’ve even wanted to acknowledge since the day I realized that you
had
changed something in me. Before then, I had believed that your presence was only prolonging the inevitable.”

“The inevitable?” she echoed, not certain what he meant.

“You need to know that . . . what I said . . . went so much deeper. It was literal. You see, I knew that I couldn’t face another winter alone. I
couldn’t.
Once the snow came, I knew it was only a matter of time before I reached the edge. I’d planned it all very carefully. I knew exactly how to go about it so there would be no chance for failure.” Abbi felt the implication begin to settle into her slowly, until it struck her with undeniable horror as he added, “I couldn’t leave the animals to go hungry without me there to care for them. I had to kill them first; quick and painlessly.”

Cameron heard Abbi’s breathing sharpen, but she didn’t speak. He forced himself to go on. “They had kept me alive for a long time. It was my reluctance to harm them that had prevented me from doing it long before then. But I had reached a point where even that didn’t matter anymore.” He sighed. “When I realized Blaze had found his way to me, and he was in my care, I think a part of me knew in that moment I was doomed to live through another winter because I knew how much you cared for him, and I don’t think I could have ever done anything to hurt him. But still . . . that was only prolonging the inevitable.”

Abbi had to put a hand over her mouth to keep her emotion silent. She’d promised to listen and knew that getting upset would not be conducive to allowing him to say what needed to be said.

“And then,” he went on, “I heard you scream, and I ran to save you, and everything changed. But as I said, I believed that eventually you would leave, and my life wouldn’t change, and your presence there was only dragging out my misery. But you saved me, Abbi. You need to know that. I needed to say it, and . . . I needed to say it now because . . .” He took a sharp breath then something resembling a sob precluded his quavering words. “Oh, Abbi. It just occurred to me . . . how wrong I’ve been, how
foolish
I’ve been, how unfair to you, and to me, and to our baby, and to everyone who has given so much for my cause, and to the people who suffer from Nikolaus’s tyranny. Oh, Abbi, can you ever forgive me?”