The United States of America was, at last, a reality. It was all over but the paper signing. It had been hard and brutal and often terrifying, but now the world was theirs.
But the “paper signing” had taken some time. The Treaty of Versailles had come about by the beginning of 1783, but Congress had taken until April 15 to ratify it, and not even then had Eric been able to come home for good.
Only now…
He stood back from Amanda and smiled. “The last of the British left New York, and George said his final good-byes to his officers at Fraunces’ Tavern on December fourth. There were tears in his eyes. And in mine, Amanda, I am quite certain. In it all, my love, I would say that his courage and determination kept us going when little else did.”
Amanda held his cheeks between her hands and kissed him. “He is a hero, an American hero,” she agreed. “But then, so are you, my love, and you are home at last! For good, forever!”
He nodded and swept her hungrily into his arms again, his fingers threading through the rich length of her hair. It had been ten years, he reflected, ten years since that Christmastime in Boston when the harbor had turned into a teapot. Ten long years. His own dark head was beginning to turn gray, but Amanda’s hair was still a cascade of flame, as evocative as her smile, as beautiful as her eyes.
It had been some fight to keep her, he reflected. Just as it had been some fight to earn the independence that was now theirs. And of course, once the fight was won, there was still so much to learn. Marriage was like an odyssey in which they stumbled and learned, and this new country would be an odyssey, and they would have to stumble and learn. And yet his wife, looking at him now with her emerald eyes and her tender smile, was all the more precious to him for the tempests they had endured.
And this great country they had forged would have to endure tempests too and yet be all the greater for it.
“You’re freezing!” he said suddenly, feeling her hands. He swept his coat from about himself and set it upon her shoulders.
“Christmas dinner is almost on the table and the hall is festooned with holly and ribbons,” Amanda said. She smiled.
“Father! Father!”
He looked toward the house. The twins were on the steps with Danielle and Jacques behind them. Six years old now, they were dressed for Christmas, young Jamie handsome in a stylish frock coat, buckled shoes, and fine knee breeches, and Lenore a picture of her mother, a dazzling redhead already in a beautifully laced gown.
He glanced at Amanda. “They’ve grown too quickly, and I’ve missed so much of it.”
She smiled ever more sweetly as the twins came running down the path. He had been home briefly in September, yet they seemed to have grown since then.
“I think,” Amanda told him, “that you’re going to have a second chance at watching growth.”
Lenore and Jamie both pitched into his arms. Kissing and hugging them, he didn’t quite catch her words. As he scooped up a child in each arm, he stared at her suddenly.
“What?”
“Well, I haven’t the faintest idea of whether it will be twins again or not, but by June, my love, you should get your chance to watch a little Cameron grow.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
He managed to kiss her exuberantly with the twins between them.
“Alors!”Danielle shouted from the porch. “Come in!Il fait froid!”
“Run, little ones,” Eric told the twins, setting them upon the ground again. He set his arm about Amanda and they walked toward the house.
Dinner was a joyous occasion. And when the twins had been tucked up in bed, it was still a warm and wonderful night, for all of the household had gathered in the parlor, family and servants, and Eric tried to speak lightly of some of what had happened. “Think of it! We’ve ‘cocktails’ now! They say the mixture of spirits and sugar and bitters was born in a tavern in 1776, when barmaid Betsy Flannagan gave a tipsy patron a glass with the brew stirred up by a cockfeather! And we’ve ghost stories galore. They say a buxom young woman named Nancy Coates fell madly in love with Mad Anthony Wayne, and cast herself into the river when she discovered him returning to Fort Ticonderoga with a society girl. They say that Nancy still haunts the fort, that she walks about bedraggled and wet and calls for Anthony by the light of the moon.”
Amanda arched a brow to him in disbelief. Then she leaned toward him, whispering softly, “There is a woman here, alive and well, who haunts your hall, calling your name! Eric! Eric! See there? That woman is going up to bed now and shall wait to haunt you, should you come soon enough.”
He laughed aloud. Amanda was up, pausing by Jacques, kissing the top of his head. “Good night, Father, good night, all!” Gracefully she swept from the parlor.
“Well, then!” Eric rose. “I’ll say my good nights too. Jacques, Danielle, Cassidy, Pierre—Richard.”
Richard stopped him, standing in the doorway. “Lord Cameron, it is good to have you home, sir. Good to have you home!”
Eric nodded. “Thank you. Thank you, all of you.”
He left the parlor and he started up the stairs, and when he came to the picture gallery, he paused. He looked at all the noble faces staring down at him, and he smiled rather wistfully. “Well, milords, I think that I am home for good. There is still the forging of a country to take place. And I’m not so sure that I’m ‘Lord’ Cameron anymore. That title came from the estates in England. But I am still Eric Cameron, gentleman of Virginia. I rather like that. I hope that you all understand.”
