Page 54 of Cameron's Contract
I’d leaped from a plane into the blackness with a sixty pound pack strapped to my back in the grueling heat. During those few days of training, I’d hardly slept, being fraught with worry after that debriefing, which was delivered with the kind of preciseness I’d rather not have heard. Not until we’d gotten him out.
I’d been the one to continue Henry’s torment, hours after Shay and his men had freed him and then slaughtered his captors.
What had followed was hours of hellish questions unleashed in a camouflaged tent. Military doctors closed his wounds while I stood by, ready to open the ones that couldn’t be seen.
Despite his reassurance I’d done the right thing, us sitting in a bathroom together revealed otherwise.
“Don’t,” he snapped.
“Don’t want?”
“I know you. Don’t blame yourself.”
I marveled at his insight.
“I willingly signed up,” he said.
His saving grace had been he’d not turned to alcohol but art, painting up a storm in that cabin. I’d been the only privileged one to see his work. Renderings of the darkest times. Insight into a psyche. Those paintings were now preserved in my Beverly Hills home.
“You were willing to give your life for your men” I said. “That’s profound, Henry.”
“You don’t expect to come home and be pointed at by strangers, or overhear their whispers that I’m the guy back from the war who’s lost his mind.”
“Henry, you’re doing amazing.”
“CEO?” He gave a nod. “Stuck in an office day after day?”
“It’ll be fun.”
He scoffed. “Says the man who’s resisted this since birth.”
“So far, so good.”
“Your eyes lit up when you profiled those board members. Each time you discovered their motivations, you were positively high on adrenaline. You were made for this. You relish every second.”
“So do you.”
“Maybe what we’ve resisted all this time is really what we want.”
“There’s a mind fuck.”
“Of which you’re the expert.”
We laughed and I felt the tension lessening.
The gunshots had ceased and I sent out a silent prayer of thanks.
Henry deserved his future, to rule as he’d always been destined to. How could we not spiral with the pressure of an empire resting on every action, every word?
I took a long, deep breath and began what I knew Henry needed right now—not to be led out of here, but for me to dedicate this time to seeing him through these unfolding moments, explore his thoughts, his doubts, his fears even.
I’d not been his therapist and had no idea just how much his experience had impacted his view of the world and his beliefs. War still haunted his days and nights and I refused to let its hold continue to impact him.
We talked, and I didn’t care about the time, didn’t care we were still here.
We reminisced about our childhood, about those days being chased by swans in the garden, stealing snacks from the kitchen and running out of there triumphantly, and when we’d been packed off to boarding school, we’d both found comfort in each other.
We ruminated over Afghanistan and he revealed more to me. He was profoundly brave, a miracle of a man, and I vowed to do whatever he wanted to make him happy.
