The Accidental Christmas

Three: Cameron

As Cameron let the engine warm up for a few minutes, she told Talon that it had been her landlady's old car, a VW Beetle she was too attached to get rid of because it was one of those rare automatic stick shift models but too lazy to have repaired. When Cameron asked if she could buy it, the older woman agreed to give it to her, telling her she'd need the money to get it running again.

You can have it if you can get it in running condition. Registration papers and all, her landlady told her. That car's a collectible, you know.

It cost Cameron over a thousand dollars to get it drive-worthy, the exact amount she got for selling the only jewelry she had left, a necklace and earring set that had belonged to her mother. But it got the car running even if she had to wait a few minutes for the engine to heat up in the cold mornings before they could go somewhere. It was better than nothing.

"Where's the clutch?" Talon asked, his tall frame folded uncomfortably in the front passenger seat that it made them laugh at how ridiculous he looked.

"There isn't any," she replied.

"So, how do you shift gears then?" He leaned towards her to peer at the space below the steering wheel. Now that he'd taken off his knit cap and pulled down the zipper of his parka the moment the heater blasted hot air in his face, Cameron could see that he had that major stubble action going on, revealing an almost dangerous and reckless look about him. But then it was probably pheromones, too, she thought as he drew away, as if suddenly aware of how close he was to her.

"It's an electric clutch that senses the weight of my hand on the shifter," she replied, resting her hand on the gear shift between them, "before it then engages the clutch, and you shift it."

Cameron eased her foot on the brake and shifted the car into first gear as Talon watched in amazement. Laughing at the expression on his face, she eased into light traffic.

If anyone who knew her while she was married to Edwin could hear the things she said about the gear shift and the clutch, they'd have insisted it wasn't the same Cameron they knew. The old Cameron wouldn't know how to work the clutch or how to open the hood of her Mercedes. The old Cameron who remained standing by her husband's side when the allegations first started trickling in about the missing millions, and Edwin assured them that it was nothing but a huge mistake and that further investigation into the matter would prove his innocence. The old Cameron whom the world saw on their TV monitors as she answered the door blinded by camera lights and flashbulbs and reporters demanded to get a sound bite from her about Edwin being spotted in the Cayman Islands with his personal assistant hours earlier.

What can you say about that, Mrs. Thomas? Did you know about the affair?

Cameron pushed the thoughts away and focused on the road in front of her. With the tree secured on the roof of the car, they were ready for Christmas. She and Jeremy would make a popcorn garland, and they'd decorate the tree with the ornaments she'd found in the dollar store along with the origami creations she'd made from an unopened set she found at the thrift shop. She'd already hung mistletoe above the front door–just for fun. It had come with the turkey and fixings from the church food drive along with a leg of ham and other canned goods.

"I'm so glad to see you," Talon said, glancing at Jeremy in the back seat, "and Jeremy, too. You didn't leave a forwarding address with anyone."

"You asked around?"

He nodded. "Phoenix."

"I'm sorry," Cameron said. "It was too crazy. I needed to go somewhere... well, somewhere safe. It's too cold for paparazzi to hang out in the bushes around here."