The Beekeeper

Chapter 12

His senses were slowly returning. There was a throbbing, blinding pain in his head, and he tried to reach up to rub the soreness away. But he could not move his arms. And there was something pressing hard against his back. A cloth was gagging him - not allowing him to shout. As his mind came fully awake, he realized that he was tied with rope and bound securely to a post. Fear rose up fast within him - but he took a deep breath through his nose, calling on his soldierly discipline to maintain his self-control.

Looking up, he saw the light of the moon coming in through the slats of the barn's walls. It was one of the barn's support posts to which he was tied. He tested the movement of his arms – but found they were quite securely positioned behind him. He tried his wrists, but they were tightly bound as well – both restrictions keeping him secured to the post. Whoever his attackers were, they had seen to it that escape was impossible. But who in God's name were they - and why had they left him this way? Why had they not killed him? Was it their intent to come back and finish him off?

What the hell had happened?

One minute, he had been standing there in the cool night – entirely happy for once, recovering from great bliss. He had begun plotting his next move – imagining how sinfully delightful it would be to sneak into Cassia's bedroom under the cover of darkness. And then, suddenly, he had been knocked senseless. Now, he was tied and bound like a criminal awaiting sentencing.

Who had struck him, and why? And where was Cassia? Did she know he was here, held against his will in this way? He was helpless - unable to move or to speak. And his captors were out there somewhere, probably waiting and plotting a new attack on him.

Would Cassia come looking for him? There was no one else who would even know he was here – except his attackers, perhaps. Part of him feared such a dire outcome.

But part of him hoped for a savior.

He was certain that soon, she would begin to wonder about his absence. Soon, he would hear the sound of her soft voice falling on his ear. He prayed for it.

I need you, Cassia. Where are you?

*****

It felt like a bizarre sort of dream - but the unbelievable truth stood before her. She knew their faces well. One was fair-haired and blue-eyed – a younger image of Lucas DeWarren. And the other...

Edwin. There was no mistaking his face.

Lucas was now standing with the aid of a cane – too overcome with joy to lie in bed. She watched her father and brother – and then her eyes turned back to the other man who stood at Stephen's side.

God in heaven! she said, 'Tis a ghost I see! This cannot be real!

But then, Edwin turned to her. He reached out - his light touch upon her hand confirming his substantiality. This was her husband, Edwin Middleton. He looked the same - and yet, so different. His eyes were the same shade of soft brown - his hair nearly the same color, although the strength of the sun had done its harsh work. He was just as lean and athletic as she remembered – the fitting form of a soldier. But how very different his eyes now were - no longer filled with the light of youth, but with the embers of a fire very much diminished.

They were the eyes of a man who had been to war.

It seemed he had aged a lifetime in only a few years. But his voice was just the same. He spoke tenderly to her.

"Cassia, my love..."

She felt him taking her in his arms, holding her close. And yet she felt numb.

Lord, this is all too much, she thought. For a moment, she could not answer – and he grew concerned. Holding her at a short length away, he examined her – looking into her eyes.