November 13th, 1971

[Cameron’s perspective]


    I got out of bed carefully, to not wake Emily. Her breathing was deep and regular, but she had slept fitfully all night and woken often, twice waking me as she tossed and turned. Not that I minded; it was gratifying that I pull her back to sleep with the comfort of my embrace.
    I put the slippers on my feet, grateful for the warmth, and quickly brushed my hair. It was only beginning to be light outside but the alarm clock assured me it was past seven o’clock, and I desperately needed to piss. I glanced back towards Emily’s sleeping figure once more, then closed the bedroom door behind me.
    I didn’t notice the sounds coming from the kitchen until I came out of the bathroom. It could only be one of two people, but I let my curiosity lead me down the hall and into the kitchen.
    “Good morning,” I said quietly, my voice hoarse with dryness.
    Liliane turned to me with a smile on her face and a spatula in her hand. “Morning, Cameron,” she replied cheerfully. “You’re up early.”
    I opened the cupboard and took out a glass. “Said by the one who’s cooking,” I retorted playfully.
    Liliane pointed the spatula at me. “Keep making jokes and you’ll be the one who doesn’t eat.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh, and she did too. I filled the glass with water and drank eagerly, then refilled and sat down at the table.
    "Do you need help with anything?"
    “No, no. I could make pancakes with my eyes closed,” she assured me. “Which yours are, by the way. Want a cup?”
    I nodded. “Please.”
    She filled a cup from the nearly-full percolator and, after confirming my tastes, added a touch of sugar and a generous splash of milk. “Here,” she said, handing it to me.
    I thanked her and took a large sip; the coffee's heat soothed me. Liliane had finished frying the pancakes and was now spreading them out on a large baking sheet.
    “She’s still sleeping?”
    I wasn’t sure she’d actually spoken, until I saw the slight lines of worry on her face. “Like a fallen log. At least for now,” I added.
    “That’s good, then.” Liliane chuckled softly. “Let her sleep.”
    “Was it a restless night for you too?”
    “I woke up every hour or so, but it wasn’t a deep sleep anyway,” she admitted with a frown. “Lee was pretty worried. Don’t tell him I said that, though,” she added quickly.
    “I won’t,” I promised. “I don’t quite blame him though. I worry for Emily more than I do for myself.”
    Liliane sat down across from me, her own cup of coffee in her hand. “I’m glad she has you.”
    “I’m glad I have her,” I answered, smiling. “If we’re speaking in confidence, Liliane—”
    “We are.”
    I nodded once. “I wouldn’t want to be without her. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t have taken her from you, and I almost feel guilty. Almost, but not quite,” I admitted. That was the truth, and I couldn’t deny it to Liliane or anyone else.
    “You didn’t take her from me, Cameron.” Liliane stood, and paused with her hand on my arm. “Emily brought you into our family.” With that said, she left the kitchen and left me to my thoughts.
    I had to admit that Liliane had a point. If Emily hadn’t wanted me, she wouldn’t have let me drag her across two continents in eighteen months, practically living in hotels, buses, and planes. She would have told me to fuck right off the night I told her I loved her, but she’d instead done the opposite and cried in my arms.
    I'd done the same, too. When I told her about my parents and the years that shaped me, when I woke still feeling the grasp of a nightmare. The days I spent by her side as we lost the child we might have had— just the memory of the woman I loved, unconscious and squirming in pain, tore my heart.
    But God, did I love her! I’d had that fact thrown in my face many times since she returned to Scotland to be with me— but if I had had any doubt left in my mind, Emily dissolved it when we’d been at Mark’s cottage.
    Even with the knowledge that I could tell her everything, and share anything I felt with her, I had still hesitated to tell her about my jealous tinges. But when I did, and she poured her heart out to me in the middle of the forest, I knew I needed her.
    It had been thirteen months since her stay in a Dutch hospital, and our private handfast ceremony once back at home. My feelings for her, and my urge to protect her and keep her safe, had only grown since then; and it left me with no other course of action but the one I had long ago decided on.


    Lee joined us about an hour after I'd woken, sporting plaid pyjama bottoms with horrid colours. I had to agree with his stomach when it growled; though we wanted to wait for Emily to wake before beginning breakfast, I was hungry.
        "I'll put some toast in," Liliane offered. "I'll hazard a guess that neither of you have eaten creton before?"
    We hadn't, but that was remedied in no time. Creton, we discovered, was a thick meat spread made mostly of ground pork and spices.
    "Where did you get this?" Lee asked between mouthfuls. The spread was delicious, and no match for our morning hunger.
    "I made it." Liliane must have seen our surprise, because she elaborated. "It's a recipe from my other grandmother, but it's a three hundred year old concept, courtesy of the New France settlers."
    I nodded in acknowledgement as I swallowed. "You know who would love this? My aunt."
    "Joan would hightail it to the butcher shop for this," Lee affirmed with enthusiasm. "Sunday breakfast has a new staple."
    "She lives by the sea, right?"
    "Yes," I answered Liliane. "My mother's sister."
    "I'll make a copy for her," she said with a grin. The phone rang as Liliane spoke and she headed into the hallway to answer, but not before calling out again. "What’s a family secret without a little gossip?"
    Lee mumbled, but I only caught something or other about cinnamon. I took a sip of my coffee and pondered if I should go wake Emily, but my thoughts were cut short when Liliane poked her head into the doorway.
    “For you, Cameron,” she announced. “It’s Willie.”
    I quickly got to my feet and took the phone from her; I’d been waiting for Willie to call. I put the handset to my ear and noticed I had a clear view of the door behind which Emily slept from this end of the hallway.
    “How’s everything?” I said to Willie in greeting.
    “Fine. I’ve a few pieces of news, that’s why I’m calling,” he explained hurriedly.
    “Go on, then.”
    “Right, well, business first?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for a reply. “I spoke with Geoff this morning and he’s told me the live album has been sent off to be pressed. We should see the test copies in a week, and you’ll be back by then?”
    “We’ll be back and settled in by Thursday evening,” I assured him.
    “That’s good. I went by Joan’s house and she wants you both to come by when you’ve landed,” he added. “The other news is from her, actually.”
    Something about his tone struck me as odd. “What is it?” I asked worriedly.
    “I brought your mail to her two days ago, when I went over to let her know when you’d arrive. I figured she’d keep a good hold of it. We had a cup of tea while she sorted it out, you know, separating bills and letters and the like.”
    Willie seemed to be skirting around whatever the news was, but I didn’t have to wait much longer.
    “She’d had a visitor come by looking for you, James Wyle. He said—”
    “James?” I repeated in surprise. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since he’d moved to Ireland after the band we’d been in broke up.
    “That’s the one,” Willie said curtly. “It was near Halloween when he showed up, and Joan remembered him, of course.”
    Willie continued his retelling, and I eventually had the whole story. James had moved back to Scotland in June, buying a house in Falkirk. The letter he sent at the end of August to my house in Cairnie had gone unanswered, so he decided to prowl Aberdeen to find word of my whereabouts.
    James had managed to find out Joan’s address and went up to Cruden Bay to see her and inquire about me, only to learn that I was on tour in Canada at the moment. Joan assured him she would pass on his letter, then gave him my phone number and instructions to call me in a months’ time.
    "Of all the times to be on tour," I noted absently. I certainly hadn't expected James to return to Scotland, let alone somewhere so close to his hometown.
    "You say that as if we aren't on tour half the year, Cameron," Willie retorted.
    "You've got a point there, I'll give you that. This was Thursday, you said? Why'd you wait two days to call?"
    Willie didn't answer for a moment, the line was silent. I heard a door open and turned towards the opposite end of the hallway, seeing Emily emerge from the bedroom.
    "I was otherwise occupied," Willie replied eventually.
    "Doing what?"
    Emily's hair was messy and she walked as if still sleeping, but I smiled when she met my gaze.
    "I was being held at the police office."
    "Why?"
    Despite my curiosity at the events preceding Willie's debacle, Emily proved to be distracting. Her skin was still flushed from the bed's warmth, and her hands felt like hot irons on my waist.
    I only heard a few words come through the phone— "pub" and "shit-faced Welshman" were the clearest ones— and though I hadn't intended to ignore Willie, concentrating on anything was extremely difficult while Emily had her lips on mine.
    I grinned widely when she pulled away, only to put her head against my chest. I wrapped my free arm around her and kissed the top of her head
    "Are you kissing or are you listening to me?" Willie's stern tone and slightly raised voice rang through the handset. "You're a fool enough, Cameron, you can't do both."
    "I heard you," I told him, though he knew it was a lie as much as I did. "I must have forgotten that you can't be civilized, even for one night."
    "You obviously have," Willie jeered. "I thought we'd established that ages ago."
    I laughed, but if it was from Willie's comment or the warm tickling of Emily's breath on my chest, I couldn't say.


    I had felt Lee's eyes boring into the back of my head for the last ten minutes. We'd been chatting for most of the way, but the conversation had died down once the taxi reached the bridge crossing the Saint Lawrence River.
    I'd had enough of his silent staring. "What?" I demanded, turning my head towards him.
    Lee didn't waste time in answering; I had invited him to speak and he did just that. "Why did you fib about where we're going?"
    "Who said I was fibbing?" I retorted.
    "You did, with that tone," Lee said with a satisfied grin.
    I leaned forward and caught the driver's eye. "How long until we're there?"
    "Just a few blocks, buddy. Two minutes, maybe three."
    "Thanks." I turned to Lee and met his questioning gaze. "I wanted to give them some time alone, without being too obvious about it."
    "I think you missed the mark on that one, Cameron."
    "Either way," I continued, "they'll appreciate it, I'm sure."
    "It can't just be that, though. And you didn't drag me sightseeing anywhere else," he added, light bitterness in his voice.
    "You're right. It isn't for the sights."
    The driver pulled into an empty parking space and turned off the meter. "You two from Britain?" he asked casually.
    I handed him the fare and a nice tip. "Scotland, yeah. Thanks for the drive, and keep the change."
    Thankfully, Lee kept mostly silent as we walked. I'd done my best to memorize the map of downtown Montreal that Liliane kept in a kitchen drawer, but eventually the inevitable happened.
    "You've gotten us lost, haven't you?"
    I shot a look of annoyance at Lee, not wanting to admit he was right.
    "Where are we headed, anyway?"
    I had to give it to Lee; he could be persistent when he set his mind to it. Something very close to shyness was bubbling inside my chest and I sighed, determined to push past it.
    I was biting my lip and had to make an effort to slacken my jaw. “A jeweler’s shop,” I replied slowly. “I’m going to marry Emily.”
    “You are?” Lee asked, sounding just as stunned as he looked.
    I couldn’t help but laugh. “Why wouldn’t I?”
    Lee chuckled at my reply, slowing to a stop as we reached an intersection I recognized. “Sounds like you’ve already asked her.”
    “No,” I said, shaking my head. “But yes, too.” We crossed the street quickly and I nodded my head towards a nondescript building two blocks down. “Let’s have a smoke.”
    Lee already had a cigarette out, ready to light. I pulled one out of the pack I took from my pocket and lit it, taking a long drag as Lee questioned me.
    “You’ve asked, and you haven’t asked?”
    “She was in the hospital last year, on tour,” I said quietly. Lee nodded in acknowledgement; he’d spent time with me at her bedside. Though I knew Emily didn’t want the event publicized, I felt I owed Lee a truthful explanation. “She was quite hurt, and… lost something. We handfast after that, and I promised to marry her. But a length of ribbon doesn’t compare to a wedding, does it?” I added, hoping to lighten the conversation.
    The expression on his face told me all I needed to know. Lee understood, and knowing that he was happy for me gave me comfort.
    After a few puffs, Lee spoke. “When will you ask her?”
    “I’m not sure, Lee,” I told him. “Soon. But I want to have it when I ask.”
    He nodded at me, a smile on his face. “Emily will be thrilled,” he assured me, his tone sincere. He tossed the butt of his smoke on the ground before clapping his hand onto my shoulder. “Let’s find that ring, Cameron. The lady can’t wait forever, now can she?”


    The jeweler, a man named Jack, had been more than happy to accommodate my requests once I took a few crisp bills out of my pocket. He'd shown me half a dozen rings varying from plain to gaudy before asking me about Emily.

    "Your girl," he'd said, "what's she like?"
    "She's kind," I smiled. "Caring. She knows what she likes, and won't put up with much nonsense." It seemed impossible to describe Emily briefly. "She's fierce, whether she loves you or hates you."
    Jack nodded thoughtfully. "I think I've got just the ring."
    He walked into the back room and didn't return for a few minutes, but when he did, I was floored.
    "It's something I'm working on," he explained, holding the gold ring out to me. "Hoping to have it out for Valentine's Day, but I'll sell you this one."
    It was an elegant ring, a gold band with a stone setting in the shape of flower petals. A rose of gold, with a bright diamond in the center.
    "This is perfect," I breathed. "How much?"

    The price we'd had settled on was well worth it. Jack had modified the band as I waited, adding some gold to enlarge it to Emily's size, and sent me off with my purchase housed in a small box.
    "You're not worried, are you?"
    Lee's question pulled me out of my thoughts and I turned to him; he sat beside me in the cab’s backseat. "As much as any man would be, I think," I admitted.
    "I might know a little about that," he replied, with a nervous chuckle as punctuation.
    It was clear to me what he was referring to. "Can I tell you something?"
    "Sure," Lee said to me. "Though knowing you, it won't be just one something."
    "It has a preface, I'll admit," I chuckled quietly. "I assume you know what kind of house the girls lived in, before their mother died."
    "Liliane told me some of it, last time we saw each other. But she talked to me nearly all of last night." Sadness flashed across Lee’s face. The surprise arrival of Bertrand last night had shaken us all, though it had thoroughly bothered Emily and Liliane.
    "It's not easy to trust someone after you've been through those things. I'd go so far as to say it's near impossible," I reminded him. "Emily told me about Liliane's last steady boyfriend, and what he was like."
    Lee scowled. "He had better hope he never meets me."
    I tilted my head, agreeing with him. “If you’ve been through something like that, it takes a lot more for someone to earn your trust.” I shook my head slightly. "I don't know how I did it, but when I met Emily and we spent time together… I did everything I could to show her who I am. And who I would be for her."
    "You loved her from the start, didn't you?"
    I nodded, a wide grin on my face. "I did. And so do you, Lee," I added, speaking of Liliane.
    He frowned, though I knew it was from indecision rather than annoyance. "I love Liliane," he said firmly. "I haven't told her yet, but I'm not ashamed of how I feel. I think she knows it, anyway." Lee turned to me and spoke in total seriousness. "I know what it means when you say it aloud, Cameron. Even if it's clear beforehand."
    He went quiet, so I persisted. "So?"
    "So, I'll let her tell me. Or let her tell me that she wants me to say it."
    I couldn't help but laugh. "You know, that's something a complete idiot would say."
    "I know." Lee sighed deeply. "Love really does make a fool of a man."  

 

    Emily and Liliane had prepared dinner for us while we'd been out; the oven-baked chicken with mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables was eaten soon after our arrival. We followed the main course with coffee and biscuits, which in turn became glasses of wine and whiskey.
    After two glasses, I began to feel a headache coming on. I wasn't sure if it was simple overindulgence in the drink or if the excitement of finally having a ring for Emily was the cause, but I excused myself to the bedroom and fell asleep.
    When I woke, I could hear the murmur of conversation down the hall. I sat up in bed just as I heard Emily laugh, and smiled by reflex. I could pick her voice out of a crowd but tonight I didn't need to; only her sister and Lee were here.
    He'd been surprised earlier, when I finally told him of my search for a ring. I doubted he was surprised that I wanted to marry Emily. If anyone couldn't see how much I loved her, they must not have eyes. It was the handfast between us that had surprised Lee. He'd been my friend for a good few years now, and a bandmate all the while, but he was also a Scot who knew how deep that tradition ran.
    I smiled, remembering that night. Even with the loss we had borne in Holland only days before, Emily still loved me. It was the knowledge that she wanted me, even after such a loss, that eased the immense guilt I held over the miscarriage.
    The bedroom door creaked slightly as it opened; Emily emerged into the soft light of the bedroom. Seeing me, she smiled. "Feeling better?" she asked quietly.
    "Much better." I beckoned her to me with a wave of my hand. "It must have been a fluke, I feel fine now."
    Emily bent forward and kissed me. Her breath smelled of port; my gaze lingered on her lips when she pulled away. “Good,” she murmured. “Have you been awake long?”
    “No, just a few minutes.”
    “Well, I hope you can wait a few more,” she teased, walking towards the dresser and taking out a nightshirt. “I’m going to have a quick shower.”
    “I’ll survive,” I said jokingly.
    She’d left the room before I could say much else, bringing her nightshirt with her. While she showered, I relieved my bladder and washed my face, though I didn’t linger in the bathroom. Just seeing Emily’s silhouette through the shower curtain reddened my cheeks, and I knew what would happen if she pulled the curtain back and asked me to wash her back, as she sometimes did.
    I went back to the bedroom and changed into my own pyjamas; I wore a tattered shirt, and with the cotton bottoms kept me warm once I got into bed and pulled the blanket over myself.
    The ring, safe in its box, was tucked away in a hard-to-find pocket of my suitcase. I knew she wouldn't find it, even if she would be the one to unpack the suitcase when we returned home. The only thing I wasn't sure about— because I had no doubt in my mind or heart that I wanted Emily, and she wanted me— was how I would propose.
    Our flight home was in five days, and within three weeks we would be back on a tour bus and in hotels, travelling Europe for the second half of the tour. I hadn't spoken to Geoff in over a week, but he would have the dates set up by now and I wouldn't doubt that we'd be touring at least until February.
    I could ask her at Christmas, once we had a moment alone. There would surely be a party with dozens in attendance, even if we took a few days off between shows. Still… Emily deserved a moment of her own for this, not a moment shared.
    An image of the botanical greenhouse at Duthie Park came to mind; it was there we had spent our first night together, sitting side by side and talking. A rose, or a small bouquet, and the ring inside my shirt pocket…
    My ruminations ended in a flash as Emily entered the bedroom. Her long nightshirt fell to mid-thigh, her legs bare and slippers on her feet.
    "It's chilly tonight." Emily tossed her previous change of clothes into the hamper and joined me in the bed. "You're warm," she noted with a pleasant hum.
    I put my arm around her, kissing her forehead softly. "And you're cold. But you smell good."
    Emily's giggle made my heart jump; it almost skipped a beat when she snuggled into me and put her leg over mine. I rested my hand on her thigh and felt her shiver.
    "Goosebumps?" I asked quietly.
    "Maybe." Her eyes gleamed in the light.
    I lessened the weight of my hand on her thigh, but kept my fingertips on her skin. I moved back and forth slowly, watching her from the corner of my eye.
    We fell into silence, but I felt my urge to speak growing. "You know something, Emily?"
    She made a low hum, looking at me with curiosity.
    "I love you."
    "I know you do, Cameron," she giggled. "I love you too."
    I put my hand on her cheek and brought my lips to hers, slowly and with purpose. I could feel my chest growing warm as her tongue flicked across my bottom lip, and I obliged her demand.
    By the time we separated, Emily was sitting on my lap with a shy smile on her face. "I can taste the whiskey on you," she murmured.
    "Can you?" I replied rhetorically. I pulled the bottom edge of her nightshirt upwards and put my hands on her waist, holding firmly. "I could have sworn you were drinking port, but all I taste is honey."
    Her cheeks grew red and she didn't speak; I took the opportunity to lay her back on the bed. I lay next to her, propped up on my elbow as I kissed her softly once again.
    “I could burst with what I feel for you, my love,” I whispered, my lips touching her neck.
    Emily inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. I took my eyes off of her face and followed the curve of her body downward. Her nipples showed through the thin fabric and I felt my own body surge with want. My lips didn't leave her skin for long; nor did my hands.
    I brushed my fingertips along the edge of her underwear and felt her shiver. "Don't be a devil," she whispered to me.
    I smirked, meeting her gaze. "You're so hot when you talk dirty," I growled with a wink.
    Emily laughed, but gasped when I hooked my fingers on her underwear. I was aching to remove her clothes, and mine as well, but it wasn't solely lustful. I felt all-consumed with her presence and the warmth of her heart.
    "Let me make love to you," I whispered, my lips lightly brushing her jaw.
    She shook under me, and I grinned as wide as a fool when she wrapped her arms around me. "The bed will make noise," she warned.
    "There's other places to choose from," I pointed out. I was hard and aching for her, and taking off her nightshirt didn't help.
    Emily gazed up at me, her blue eyes soft. "If you put me over the desk, Cameron, I'll scream." She was teasing me, but with the heat coming off of her body I didn't think it was far from the truth.
    "Don't tempt me." I moved downward and pressed my lips to her underwear. Her scent filled my head and I exhaled slowly, only the thin fabric separating us. "As much as I might want to," I added, my teeth grazing her. "I don't need to take you, Emily. I know you're mine."
    I pulled down her underwear and lightly played with her hair. It was a darker brown than those on her head, but the contrast with the pale skin behind the hair made me groan.
    I touched my lips to her skin, mesmerized with her body's reaction; her skin flushed pink from thigh to navel as I kissed her.
    Emily mumbled my name, so quietly I barely heard it. "The bed creaks," she reminded me, sounding as breathless as I felt. "Let's put the blanket on the floor."