Part Two
Making the most of the daylight hours Cameron was kneeling in the strip of dirt in front of the Manse that he was optimistically trying to turn into a flower bed. Yard work was not his speciality and for the last two summers his efforts had only been rewarded by weeds and plants that had quickly died off. This year he was confident that his garden would bloom.
The neighbourhood was quiet, some kids were happily shrieking at each other as they had a water fight, a lawn mower was buzzing, and everyone else was at peace. In the relative silence he could clearly hear them approaching.
‘You’re kidding, right?’
She sounded amazed.
‘No, I honestly didn’t enjoy it,’ he said flatly.
‘But it had swords, action, Orlando Bloom. What’s not to love?’
The enthusiasm in her voice was not matched in his.
‘Plenty. If only you’d take the time to read the original Tolkein.’
‘Nah. I’ve got better things to do. I’ll leave that to you. Tweedy book guy.’
He sounded aggrieved at that statement.
‘When was the last time you saw me wearing tweed?’
‘With you it’s more like a state of mind.’
Cameron got to his feet.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey Cam, how’s it going?’ Buffy called out.
‘Not sure. Needs a bit of work and a helping hand from The Boss.’
He turned to greet Rupert.
‘Water time again?’
‘Actually no. We need your expertise.’
‘Okay. That’s a longer conversation. I’ll go get some lemonade.’
Cameron retreated into the coolness of his kitchen, mind racing with possibilities. Whatever Buffy and Rupert needed he’d be happy to provide, but he knew enough of their work to be aware that there could be a considerable risk involved.
However he could deny them nothing, especially her. Buffy fascinated him, he’d not met her before he buried her and yet here she was. More than two years later, Cameron’s every meeting with Buffy was still tinged with incredulity.
At the time Rupert had offered some complex explanation about mistaken identity at the morgue and Buffy having amnesia, but they’d both known it was a lie. On the one occasion that Cameron had been able to break down the British reserve, behind which the older man was hiding the grief that was causing him to fall apart, Rupert had spoken briefly of the shock of seeing Buffy’s corpse.
‘I’ve seen many people die, a body didn‘t unsettle me - even that of a-a loved one. What surprised me was the serenity, she looked so calm. She looked beautiful.’
He’d clearly seen Buffy’s body, no doubt about it. Nor was there any doubting that she came back, a fact that defied explanation. Cameron did not seek one, he knew that to discuss what had happened openly with his colleagues and superiors would bring unwanted attention upon Buffy, threatening all that she did. He was grateful for this miracle, having come to like Buffy very much and had been pleased to see the change in Rupert once she’d returned.
Bringing the glasses to the front of the house, Cameron saw that his guests had made themselves comfortable on the steps. Buffy was sat one step below Rupert, leaning against him. He had draped an arm protectively over her shoulder, their fingers threaded together.
‘How can I help?’
They both grinned.
‘We’re here to arrange a wedding.’
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