October 12th, 1970

    The Scottish dates that would end the Missing Persons tour were due to begin in three days, and would last nearly two weeks. I wasn’t overly excited about it, though it would be nice to finish the tour and have some time to do nothing with Cameron, but I was admittedly worried about a few things.
    I had been the reason that Cameron chose to cancel the last Dutch show, a second night in Amsterdam. He had sent everyone home, making his decision by my bedside. I spoke to Cameron about my worries last night while we lay in bed, and he comforted me.
    “Do they know what happened?”
    “No,” Cameron answered. “Only that you fell, and about your fingers.”
    I knew that Lee had come by the room more than once to speak with Cameron, and I mentally made note of what Cameron told me.
    “I won’t tell them, either. Not unless you want to,” he added.
    I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”
    “Don’t fret, Emily,” he said softly. “I won’t stand for anything against you.”
    “They’ve been with you longer,” I noted with a frown.
    “That’s true,” Cameron told me. “We’re friends, bandmates, we’ve lived together on tour. They’ve been family at times. But you are my wife.”


    We woke early in the morning. After I took a quick shower and we’d eaten breakfast, Cameron took my hand and gave me a soft kiss.
    “I’ve something to share with you,” he told me, a smile on his lips. “Come.”
    He led me to the studio and beckoned me to sit facing him at his keyboard. I did so without hesitation, though for a moment I wondered what he would show me.
    Cameron pulled a sheet of paper out of the stack that lay atop the keyboard and handed it to me. “A poem,” was all he said.
    He placed his fingers on the keys and began to play a soft melody. The sound was laced with sadness and grief, as much as the words of the poem. I stood slowly and walked around the keyboard to stand behind Cameron as the last notes tapered off.
    “Beautiful,” I whispered as I put my arms around him.
    He leaned back into my arms and sighed quietly.
    “You’re grieving,” I said.
    “I’ve been known to, at times,” he said with a small chuckle.
    I kissed his hair softly and held him close to me. “Well, you grieve with more grace than I do,” I told him. “I just bawl.”
    I loosened my grip as Cameron turned to face me. He kissed me, but before either of us could speak, there was a knock at the door.
    We both answered it to see Clyde and Sylvia standing on the steps with Lee behind them.
    “Emily!” Sylvia exclaimed, pulling me into a hug.
    “We’ve come bearing a gift.” Clyde handed Cameron a copy of Missing Persons and I smiled at the sight of my artwork on the cover.
    “And your mail,” Sylvia added. “We met the postman on the way up the drive and took these off his hands.” She handed me a large stack of letters bound together with an elastic.
    “The mail hold ended yesterday,” I remembered, seeing the first letter’s mid-July postmark. I was sure most of them were replies from my sister, so I placed them on the table and told myself I would read them later.
    The trio walked inside and Cameron closed the door behind them. I turned around and almost bumped into Lee; he was standing only a foot from me. He opened his arms and gave me a sweet look.
    I stepped into his embrace and hugged him; at least I didn’t have to worry about Lee being upset.
    “I’m glad you’re better, Emily,” he told me sincerely after letting me go. “It’s nice to have you back.”
    “Thanks, Lee. It’s nice to be back,” I chuckled.


    Lee, Clyde, and Sylvia left after having stayed for an hour, during which we’d had tea and coffee. I picked up the stack of letters they’d brought and sorted them out into piles based on who’d sent them. Not surprisingly, Liliane’s pile was the largest, with the others being from various places all addressed to Cameron.
    “Are you going to tell your sister?” Cameron asked me as he joined me on the sofa.
    I tore the edge of the envelope and took the letter out. “I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “Eventually, I suppose I will. But not now, and definitely not over the phone.”
    Cameron nodded in understanding, then began to read his portion of the mail.
    Liliane had written one letter every two weeks, since she had gotten my first correspondence I’d written on the first day of the tour. Her updates included the mundane events of her day-to-day; mainly speaking of people we’d both known in our neighbourhood.
    She had gotten a promotion at her job, as well. They’d given her an extra week of vacation and a slight pay raise. I was happy for her. Liliane had always been a hard worker, and she deserves all the praise she would receive as a result of the promotion.
    I dialed the operator and gave my sister’s number. I waited as it rang, and reminded myself to breathe. It had been months since I’d spoken to her, and it was not the time to cry.
    “Hello?” Her voice came through the handset.
    “Hey, sis,” I greeted. “It’s been a while.”