June 22nd & 23rd, 1970
Preparation for the trip back to Scotland had been exhausting; but I couldn’t have gotten it all done without Liliane’s help. On the day before I was set to leave, we had already emptied my apartment of perishables and brought most of my belongings to my sister’s house, since she had a basement that could store it all.
After we finished eating the take-out we had ordered, we took advantage of the relative quiet moment and spoke about what this all meant.
“Do you think he wants to marry you?” she asked me.
“I think only he would know,” I answered after a moment’s hesitation.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it, Emily. He gave you his mother’s jewelry, for God’s sake.”
“I hadn’t thought about it. Not concretely, anyway.” That was not entirely the truth. When I read Cameron’s letter during the flight home, I wondered fleetingly if we would marry eventually.
Liliane nodded and took a sip of her tea. “I do wonder about something, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Why didn’t you tell him you loved him until we came back home?”
As if on cue, the phone rang and I stood. “You know why. Just think about it for a minute,” I said before I picked up the handset. The operator spoke, telling me I had a call from Scotland. My heart jumped and I immediately accepted the call.
“Hello?” I asked hesitantly, hoping it was him.
“Emily,” came his soothing voice, and I smiled widely.
“Cameron, how is everything?”
“Good, good. I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d give you a shout. How was your day?”
I faced the wall to ignore Liliane’s hand signals depicting marriage and honeymoons, and answered him instead. “It was pretty good. Most of the food is out of the fridge, you’ll be happy to know,” I said with a chuckle.
“Smart girl,” he quipped. “How is your sister?”
“She’s doing fine. She’s here now, actually.”
“I’ll let you get back to her, then. I just wanted to check in.”
“It’s alright, we can talk for a bit if you’d like,” I answered, not wanting him to hang up so soon.
“We will have plenty of time to talk as of tomorrow. I’ll be there, waiting for you. Spend time with your sister.”
“Okay, I will. Sleep well, Cameron. See you tomorrow.” Despite it being the end of our call, I smiled widely that I was going to be with him in less than a day.
“Be safe, love.”
“You too.” I hung up and I turned to Liliane. “Is my tea still warm?”
“I don’t know but your face sure is,” she said with a smile on her face. “Does that always happen when he calls you?”
“Most of the time,” I admitted.
She laughed and handed the cup to me. “I’m glad you’re following your heart. Just don’t forget your brain on the tarmac.”
I could barely sleep that night. Liliane was asleep on my couch, so I was constrained to my bedroom. At midnight, I paced around my bed until my legs ached and the fatigue dragged me into slumber.
When Liliane knocked on my door and announced the time, I thanked God I had packed the night before. We woke up an hour later than planned, so I jumped into the shower and brushed my teeth and hair before quickly getting dressed. I threw the rest of my toiletries into the carry-on and munched down on toast as quickly as I could.
Liliane was calmer than I had expected her to be, and much calmer than I was. She drove to the airport in relative silence, having already said everything she needed to say to me.
To avoid a long goodbye, I’d asked her to simply drop me off at the departure area and I would navigate the rest myself.
“Thank you, Lil.”
“You’re welcome. Remember to write to me,” she added hastily.
“I will. Love you, sister.”
“I love you too.”
We hugged and she handed me my suitcase. With a final wave, I walked into the airport and headed into the throng of people.
Once I had checked in, I made my way through security and to the gate I was to be leaving from. I sat, book in hand, and tried to focus on the words on the page.
I couldn’t, so I put the book back in my bag and wondered what my reunion with Cameron would be like. After a while, the scenarios going through my head were making me nervous, so I shook them away and luckily, they began to board.
I managed to sleep for a little while during the flight, but once we began the descent I was more awake than I had been in the month since I was last in Scotland.
The captain announced our arrival at the airport would be in ten minutes, and I began to shift in my seat. The trip had taken nearly seven hours, so not only was I eager to stand on my feet and use my legs, I was also anxious to see the man who would be waiting for me.
I thanked the stewardess who saw us off the plane and walked across the tarmac with my carry-on and purse. I took deep breaths of the rich Scottish air until we were inside the terminal. I stood at baggage claim, looking at the conveyor and trying my best not to search for Cameron, who I should have been able to see from here, standing in the next section for visitors. Finally my bag came around and I hauled it off the conveyor, then turned and walked towards arrivals.
When I looked up and didn’t see him, my heart fell. I suppressed a frown, and urged myself to look once more. He was there, standing behind a short woman who was leaning against the division rope.
I smiled widely. ‘He’s here.’
Cameron moved forward and removed the rope from the stand to his right and let it fall to the ground, coming forward to meet me at the last twenty feet or so.
“Emily,” was all he said.
Hearing his voice again in person, seeing him here in front of me, nearly brought me to tears. “Cameron!”
I dropped my bags and hugged him, not caring what anyone watching thought.
“Oh, Emily,” he whispered into my hair, holding me tight. “I’ve missed you.”
When we pulled apart, I looked at him and saw his eyes shimmering. Mine were wet, and I dried them with the back of my hand.
“Take me home, Cameron.”
The short trip to the house was filled with light banter between us; he informed me of the latest news with the band and I updated him on the events of the past month. When we arrived I nearly ran to the shower, badly needing to clean the grime of flight off of me.
I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, to find Cameron sitting on the bed. He had brought my luggage, it was on the desk at the far end of the room. I studied his face for a moment, before he realized I had finished my shower. He looked quite reserved and as if something was bothering him. Before I could say anything, he spoke.
“Emily, I want to apologize.”
“About?” I asked him as I walked towards the bed.
“The letter I wrote you, before you left. I should have—”
“Cameron,” I interrupted, moving my hand to stroke his hair. “I told you, you’re forgiven.”
“That doesn’t mean it was right.” He took my hand in his and rubbed my palm. “I shouldn’t have gone about it that way.” His tone pained me. I could tell this had eaten at him for weeks.
“We can talk about it later. I’m not upset with you,” I said in a soothing tone. “And there’s something a little more urgent on my mind.”
I put my hand under his chin and lifted his head as I lowered mine. Our lips met, softly at first, then voraciously. Cameron’s hands moved to my waist, mine framed his face. We kissed for what felt like ages, eventually separating but without much space between us.
“I’ve missed you, Emily,” he whispered, looking into my eyes.
I brought my lips to his for a sweet kiss, barely pulling away before I spoke. “Take me, Cameron.”
I felt his breath on my cheek as his face reddened, his grip on my waist tightening. “I want to,” he told me in a quiet voice. “More than anything.”
I answered with a smile, and let the towel around me fall to the ground.
I don’t know how long it was before we lay beside each other, fingers softly trailing on skin. Between sweet kisses, we asked each other questions about anything that came to mind.
“Tell me about your art," Cameron asked after a while.
"My paintings?"
He nodded.
"Well… I started painting when I was maybe ten. My father hated everything I made, but when we went to live with Gran, her name was Kathleen, she nurtured my love of paint. I got pretty good, with practice, but when she got sick…”
"You stopped painting," he finished for me.
"We cared for her, Liliane and I, until she died. We both stopped things in our lives to do that."
Cameron took my hand in his and squeezed gently. "You did a wonderful thing for her. I'm sure she loved you and your art."
"I think so too,” I said with a smile. “And speaking of my art, I have something for you.” I got up from the bed and walked to my luggage, looking through my purse to find a photo my sister had made me take before leaving.
"You have an amazing arse," Cameron said in a near moan.
I wiggled my butt and found what I was looking for. I handed it to him and he smiled.
"It's beautiful. Wonderful artistry," he commented. "It's for me?"
"It is you," I amended.
"This is what you meant when you told me you had painted me?" he asked incredulously.
I smiled. "Yes. I was just painting and then realized I was painting you."
Cameron put the photo on the nightstand and put his arms around my waist. He kissed my stomach softly and I pet his hair as he did so.
"You're too good to me," he said softly against my stomach as he kept kissing.
"I'm too good to you? What about what you've done for me?" I retorted.
"Hmm. Let's call it a draw."
After we finished eating the take-out we had ordered, we took advantage of the relative quiet moment and spoke about what this all meant.
“Do you think he wants to marry you?” she asked me.
“I think only he would know,” I answered after a moment’s hesitation.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it, Emily. He gave you his mother’s jewelry, for God’s sake.”
“I hadn’t thought about it. Not concretely, anyway.” That was not entirely the truth. When I read Cameron’s letter during the flight home, I wondered fleetingly if we would marry eventually.
Liliane nodded and took a sip of her tea. “I do wonder about something, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Why didn’t you tell him you loved him until we came back home?”
As if on cue, the phone rang and I stood. “You know why. Just think about it for a minute,” I said before I picked up the handset. The operator spoke, telling me I had a call from Scotland. My heart jumped and I immediately accepted the call.
“Hello?” I asked hesitantly, hoping it was him.
“Emily,” came his soothing voice, and I smiled widely.
“Cameron, how is everything?”
“Good, good. I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d give you a shout. How was your day?”
I faced the wall to ignore Liliane’s hand signals depicting marriage and honeymoons, and answered him instead. “It was pretty good. Most of the food is out of the fridge, you’ll be happy to know,” I said with a chuckle.
“Smart girl,” he quipped. “How is your sister?”
“She’s doing fine. She’s here now, actually.”
“I’ll let you get back to her, then. I just wanted to check in.”
“It’s alright, we can talk for a bit if you’d like,” I answered, not wanting him to hang up so soon.
“We will have plenty of time to talk as of tomorrow. I’ll be there, waiting for you. Spend time with your sister.”
“Okay, I will. Sleep well, Cameron. See you tomorrow.” Despite it being the end of our call, I smiled widely that I was going to be with him in less than a day.
“Be safe, love.”
“You too.” I hung up and I turned to Liliane. “Is my tea still warm?”
“I don’t know but your face sure is,” she said with a smile on her face. “Does that always happen when he calls you?”
“Most of the time,” I admitted.
She laughed and handed the cup to me. “I’m glad you’re following your heart. Just don’t forget your brain on the tarmac.”
I could barely sleep that night. Liliane was asleep on my couch, so I was constrained to my bedroom. At midnight, I paced around my bed until my legs ached and the fatigue dragged me into slumber.
When Liliane knocked on my door and announced the time, I thanked God I had packed the night before. We woke up an hour later than planned, so I jumped into the shower and brushed my teeth and hair before quickly getting dressed. I threw the rest of my toiletries into the carry-on and munched down on toast as quickly as I could.
Liliane was calmer than I had expected her to be, and much calmer than I was. She drove to the airport in relative silence, having already said everything she needed to say to me.
To avoid a long goodbye, I’d asked her to simply drop me off at the departure area and I would navigate the rest myself.
“Thank you, Lil.”
“You’re welcome. Remember to write to me,” she added hastily.
“I will. Love you, sister.”
“I love you too.”
We hugged and she handed me my suitcase. With a final wave, I walked into the airport and headed into the throng of people.
Once I had checked in, I made my way through security and to the gate I was to be leaving from. I sat, book in hand, and tried to focus on the words on the page.
I couldn’t, so I put the book back in my bag and wondered what my reunion with Cameron would be like. After a while, the scenarios going through my head were making me nervous, so I shook them away and luckily, they began to board.
I managed to sleep for a little while during the flight, but once we began the descent I was more awake than I had been in the month since I was last in Scotland.
The captain announced our arrival at the airport would be in ten minutes, and I began to shift in my seat. The trip had taken nearly seven hours, so not only was I eager to stand on my feet and use my legs, I was also anxious to see the man who would be waiting for me.
I thanked the stewardess who saw us off the plane and walked across the tarmac with my carry-on and purse. I took deep breaths of the rich Scottish air until we were inside the terminal. I stood at baggage claim, looking at the conveyor and trying my best not to search for Cameron, who I should have been able to see from here, standing in the next section for visitors. Finally my bag came around and I hauled it off the conveyor, then turned and walked towards arrivals.
When I looked up and didn’t see him, my heart fell. I suppressed a frown, and urged myself to look once more. He was there, standing behind a short woman who was leaning against the division rope.
I smiled widely. ‘He’s here.’
Cameron moved forward and removed the rope from the stand to his right and let it fall to the ground, coming forward to meet me at the last twenty feet or so.
“Emily,” was all he said.
Hearing his voice again in person, seeing him here in front of me, nearly brought me to tears. “Cameron!”
I dropped my bags and hugged him, not caring what anyone watching thought.
“Oh, Emily,” he whispered into my hair, holding me tight. “I’ve missed you.”
When we pulled apart, I looked at him and saw his eyes shimmering. Mine were wet, and I dried them with the back of my hand.
“Take me home, Cameron.”
The short trip to the house was filled with light banter between us; he informed me of the latest news with the band and I updated him on the events of the past month. When we arrived I nearly ran to the shower, badly needing to clean the grime of flight off of me.
I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, to find Cameron sitting on the bed. He had brought my luggage, it was on the desk at the far end of the room. I studied his face for a moment, before he realized I had finished my shower. He looked quite reserved and as if something was bothering him. Before I could say anything, he spoke.
“Emily, I want to apologize.”
“About?” I asked him as I walked towards the bed.
“The letter I wrote you, before you left. I should have—”
“Cameron,” I interrupted, moving my hand to stroke his hair. “I told you, you’re forgiven.”
“That doesn’t mean it was right.” He took my hand in his and rubbed my palm. “I shouldn’t have gone about it that way.” His tone pained me. I could tell this had eaten at him for weeks.
“We can talk about it later. I’m not upset with you,” I said in a soothing tone. “And there’s something a little more urgent on my mind.”
I put my hand under his chin and lifted his head as I lowered mine. Our lips met, softly at first, then voraciously. Cameron’s hands moved to my waist, mine framed his face. We kissed for what felt like ages, eventually separating but without much space between us.
“I’ve missed you, Emily,” he whispered, looking into my eyes.
I brought my lips to his for a sweet kiss, barely pulling away before I spoke. “Take me, Cameron.”
I felt his breath on my cheek as his face reddened, his grip on my waist tightening. “I want to,” he told me in a quiet voice. “More than anything.”
I answered with a smile, and let the towel around me fall to the ground.
I don’t know how long it was before we lay beside each other, fingers softly trailing on skin. Between sweet kisses, we asked each other questions about anything that came to mind.
“Tell me about your art," Cameron asked after a while.
"My paintings?"
He nodded.
"Well… I started painting when I was maybe ten. My father hated everything I made, but when we went to live with Gran, her name was Kathleen, she nurtured my love of paint. I got pretty good, with practice, but when she got sick…”
"You stopped painting," he finished for me.
"We cared for her, Liliane and I, until she died. We both stopped things in our lives to do that."
Cameron took my hand in his and squeezed gently. "You did a wonderful thing for her. I'm sure she loved you and your art."
"I think so too,” I said with a smile. “And speaking of my art, I have something for you.” I got up from the bed and walked to my luggage, looking through my purse to find a photo my sister had made me take before leaving.
"You have an amazing arse," Cameron said in a near moan.
I wiggled my butt and found what I was looking for. I handed it to him and he smiled.
"It's beautiful. Wonderful artistry," he commented. "It's for me?"
"It is you," I amended.
"This is what you meant when you told me you had painted me?" he asked incredulously.
I smiled. "Yes. I was just painting and then realized I was painting you."
Cameron put the photo on the nightstand and put his arms around my waist. He kissed my stomach softly and I pet his hair as he did so.
"You're too good to me," he said softly against my stomach as he kept kissing.
"I'm too good to you? What about what you've done for me?" I retorted.
"Hmm. Let's call it a draw."
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