July 3rd, 1970

    “You’ll be glad to know,” Cameron told me as he walked into the house, “the album cover is being printed as we speak.” He closed the door behind him and set the bag down on the table.
    “Where did you hear that? The print shop?” I quipped.
    “Nearly. I stopped by Willie’s flat on the way back,” Cameron explained as I walked up to him.
    “Did he have anything else to say?” I began to unpack the bag he’d come in with and lifted one of the items. “A single plastic flower?”
    “For my aunt. I’ve given her one every year on her birthday, since my mom passed. She’s got a bouquet now,” he chuckled, then paused for a moment. “It’s been sixteen years.”
    “That’s very sweet of you to do,” I smiled. “I’m sure she appreciates it. What date is her birthday?”
    “The nineteenth.”
    “A nice summer birthday,” I noted.


    By one o’clock Cameron and I were in the van headed to Joan’s house in Cruden Bay.
    “When did you last see your aunt?” I asked curiously.
    “In May, a day or two after you’d left,” he answered. “The ocean helps me think clearly, and her house has a very nice view of it.”
    I nodded in acknowledgement.
    “She’ll adore you, Emily,” Cameron assured me.
    Cameron had told me a bit more about his relationship with Joan earlier in the day; his mother had died in a traffic accident when he was thirteen and his aunt had immediately taken him in. She had never married and treated Cameron as her own son.
    I was a little nervous about meeting her, but his words calmed me. “I don’t even have food to offer her,” I complained.
    “Trust me, she will have made plenty.”
    Cameron parked in the driveway of the seaside house shortly after. He gave me a sweet smile and a look of encouragement before knocking on the door.
    Joan opened the door and beamed at the sight of us.
    “Cameron! It’s so good to see you,” she said with delight as she pulled him into a hug. “And you’re Emily, if I’m not mistaken?” she added.
    “That’s me,” I said with a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Joan.”
    “The pleasure is mine,” she assured me. She gave me a quick hug and for an instant, I remembered what it was like to have a mother.
    Joan led us into the house as I pulled the plastic flower out of my purse and handed it to Cameron. When his aunt turned to us, he presented her with it.
    “Oh, this is wonderful!” She happily accepted the flower and walked over to the china cabinet in the sitting room, placing the newest addition to the bouquet on the center shelf.
    “We wanted to celebrate your birthday now, since we’ll be on tour starting next week,” Cameron told her.
    “Emily will be joining you? That is lovely!” she cooed. “Now, come, I’ve got some scones just out the oven and Cameron has been pestering me for some for ages…”


    We spent the rest of the afternoon with Joan, mostly just chatting and drinking tea. The scones she had made were as delicious as promised, though Cameron devoured most of them. By the time we left around six o’clock, I was admittedly a little sad. It had been fourteen years since I’d had my mother, and just in this short time, Joan had made me feel like a daughter again.
    “Your aunt seems really… loving,” I said to Cameron when we were back in Cairnie.
    He filled the kettle and turned the stove on before turning to me. “Your mother wasn’t?” he asked softly. Joan was his mother’s sister, but he referred to both of them as his mom.
    I shrugged. “She was very passive, timid. Afraid,” I admitted. “I didn’t learn much from her other than not to do what she did.”
    Cameron frowned but kept gazing at me.
    “Life is hard, but sometimes I feel like my mom just gave up after a while,” I whispered.
    I looked away from Cameron as he approached me. “Sweetheart,” as all he whispered as his arms wrapped around me and he held me tight. I put my hands on his waist and let my head rest against his stomach.
    We stayed in the silent embrace until the kettle began to whistle. Cameron slowly pulled away and kissed the top of my head before returning to the stove. I watched him as he prepared our cups; I was always stricken with the deftness of his movement, whether he was pouring tea or playing keyboards.
    Cameron returned to the table with our cups in hand and beckoned me to join him on the couch. I followed him, placing my hand on his lower back as he bent to put the cups down. He turned to face me, with a smile so genuine I couldn’t help but smile in return.
    “My love,” he said softly, taking my hand in his. He pulled me down onto the couch with him, wrapping his free arm around me. “I thank God every day for you.”
    I kissed him, and moved so we were practically laying together. “You make me so happy,” I mumbled, my head on his chest. Cameron’s arms tightened around me and I closed my eyes.
    Very soon I was on the bridge between waking and sleeping, just about to cross onto the side of dreams when I heard his soft voice once again.
    “I will keep you safe.”