Chapter 9

Kindness and Patience

Dwayne and Fidel showed up in time – both in "plainclothes", as opposed to uniforms. The older officer's clothing could clearly never be described as "plain"… but somehow it suited him. He just was a bird of paradise and loved to show off his feathers. Actually, tonight he wore a shirt that could almost be described as "modest" – for his standards, anyway. Perhaps he didn't want to shock the Chief right away upon his return?

The boys both looked around with appreciation. Of course, the Chief would not say much about the decoration and all that, but that wouldn't mean he didn't like it. He wasn't keen on having others make a fuss over him, still he deserved a little party, and this was not going over the top. They had learnt from his earlier behaviour that he didn't want to be in the limelight, so it was a good thing that Camille and her mother had not taken out the full party decoration with sparklers and streamers.

Fidel and Dwayne sat down with their beers and chatted a little until Camille joined them. Her nervousness changed the atmosphere immediately. It went from relaxed and laid-back to slightly nervous and tense. Dwayne groaned inwardly. He just wanted this to be over – one way or another. At this point he only wanted to know whether or not the Chief would return – he'd survive whatever would come.

Camille calculated the time again. Dwayne had lost count of how often she had repeated this ceremony already. Just as he was muttering "Yeah, the suspense is killing me", the Commissioner's car arrived and stopped outside. Camille had been somewhat tense before, but now she was like a coiled spring. The Commissioner came in – and much to everyone's horror he seemed to be alone. Camille felt like fainting. Fidel anxiously asked "He was on the flight, wasn't he?" She was grateful that he had spoken – she felt her tongue was glued somewhere in her mouth, and it seemed impossible to say a word. She heard the Commissioner say something about problems… and surely that meant Richard hadn't come back. She felt like she was caught in a bad movie or a nightmare – or both, for that matter. Her head sank – along with her heart.

Then, all of a sudden, a voice filled the room. A ranting, angry, annoyed voice, going on about lost suitcases, a cursed luggage carousel in the airport of a benighted island, and unlucky people who would have to wear the same trousers for at least a week once again, if not longer than that.

Camille couldn't help it – she just had to smile broadly. His voice was perhaps not like the angels' singing, but it was all she wanted to hear right now. "Good to have you back" she said softly, echoing the boys' welcoming words. She was a little disappointed that he had obviously hardly noticed her at all so far – with all the efforts she had made to look good for him, she would have hoped he'd have at least a closer look at her. But maybe she had only made the efforts for herself, anyway. Whatever, it didn't signify at this point. He was back, and that was all that counted.

Catherine as well as the Commissioner had not failed to observe Camille's initial reaction – and they had also noticed the sideways glance that Richard had taken at Camille. They exchanged a little wink before the Commissioner sat down to have a drink with the team and Catherine brought out the tea set for Richard. He made a remark about the decorations and how they shouldn't have made a fuss about him and smiled his famous lopsided smile – directed at everyone, but his gaze rested on his DS a little longer now.

Dwayne and Fidel wanted to know what London had been like, and Camille was glad that they asked. She didn't trust her voice, and so she just sat back, listening, sipping at her drink and smiling happily. Every once in a while she noticed how he peered over to her – furtively, as if he didn't dare to allow his eyes to linger. Not for the first time she wanted to ask if he had missed Saint Marie, work, the station, the boys – and her, of course. Well, she might find out later, she decided. Perhaps when she was driving him home later on. After all, he was back now – and she could finally ask him everything she wanted to know. Maybe not so openly, she might have to tread softly, but she would ask for sure. And his reaction would hopefully be a clearer signal than the ones he had been sending out before…

She felt so much better now that he was back. Now, everything would be all right – the first hurdle was over. She had been so worried that he might not return, but now that he was here again, everything seemed possible. She was convinced that she'd find a way to make him understand that she needed and wanted him – not only as a colleague, but as… well, he'd find out. Admittedly, he was a bit slow on the uptake when it came to emotional affairs, but not even he could be that dense in the long run. Now that she knew what she wanted and had had time to reflect and think about it all, she could get things moving. What had all her doubts been about?

In hindsight, she had to say that the past week had been an emotional roller coaster for her. She had been through it all - sadness over his departure, doubts about his return, questions about her own emotions – not to mention his! -, bouts of lack of self-confidence (alternating with defiance!), glorifying and painting him in the brightest colours, followed by denying all his qualities and telling herself what a fool she was, hopefulness about what could happen between them in the future, worries and doubts about which way to take – ah, it had been ridiculous. And draining. Very draining. And all the time she had to put on a brave face and pretend that she was just fine. She knew that not everyone had believed the façade she had put up, though most people fortunately did. But now that he was back, she was not forced to wait any longer. She could actually do something. And that was much better than sitting around and twiddling her thumbs.

Her recent conversation with Sister Marguerite came to her mind again. She would never have dreamed of talking about love with a nun, but that was what had happened. After her fitness class on Wednesday, she had dawdled a little, and eventually, Sister Marguerite had been there to lock the door of the hall again, and Camille had got into talking with her. The Zumba class had done her a world of good - she had felt tired, but in a good way – as it often happens after exercise. They had sat down together on a bench outside the building, and Sister Marguerite had asked her how things were going for her.

Camille had told her a little about work and about how Richard's absence made for a rather unspectacular time at the station. At that point, she hadn't been aware of the longing in her voice. Sister Marguerite had noticed it, though, and said quietly "He's a good man. Very kind. Complex character, however. You miss him." It hadn't been a question, but a statement. Camille had just nodded, and they had then remembered together what had happened in the convent a while ago. Camille had mentioned that she had not been aware that Dwayne and Sister Marguerite had been such good friends. "Oh, we had not been in touch for quite a while," the nun had replied. "It's only been since we literally bumped into each other again on that occasion that we have kept in contact. Dwayne visits fairly regularly once a fortnight now and repairs little things that we cannot fix ourselves. And sometimes we just sit and talk a little."

Sister Marguerite's voice had been completely serene and composed. Camille had looked at her and dared to ask "Sister Marguerite, would you mind me asking…" "Oh, no, not at all, Camille… I suppose you wonder why I joined the convent and if I sometimes miss my old life…" Camille had nodded shyly. It seemed like such a personal question, and she was not used to seeing nuns as 'normal' human beings. The revelations during that investigations had been surprising and eye-opening, to say the least.

She had waited for Sister Marguerite to continue, and finally the nun had begun to tell her how she and Dwayne had been friends and hung out together, then her parents had died in an accident, and "it was like the ground had been pulled away from under my feet, you know. I asked myself all sorts of questions, and I felt insecure and groundless. My friends could not compensate for that, and while I'm sure that Dwayne and the others did their best – they could not give me what I needed at that time… security and a structured life. I did a lot of soul searching, and I went to church a lot to find answers. Eventually, I joined the convent, and I have never ever regretted it."

Camille had listened in silence and nodded in understanding. Then she had asked "And now? Do you think you would have been happy… with Dwayne?"

"Oh, Camille, I don't know, and there's no point in dwelling on it. We are different people now, and the way things are, we just are happy that we can be good friends again. I still love him as a good friend, and I know that he has a soft spot for me – that's it. Could you imagine he'd lead a settled life with a wife?" She had smiled. "No, me neither! He would not want to give up any single bit of his current life, and I'm not going to leave the convent. So, we are friends, I'm happy that he spends time with me – that's a generous gift, and I really, really appreciate and value it - and I know that he enjoys being with me and helping out when he can. There is no pressure, no sense of entitlement between the two of us, we just enjoy the friendship without further expectations. You know, Camille, there are many different ways of loving someone, and they're all good as long as you love."

"Love…" Camille had said it thoughtfully. She sometimes wondered… it sounded like everybody saw something different in it. But could you really define it in a universal way?

Sister Marguerite had looked at her intently. "With love, life makes sense. Without it, it's sad and empty. No matter whom you love and whether it's the love between friends, siblings, parents and children, or between lovers – or man and wife - in the end, it just matters that you love with kindness and patience. That you let people be who they are and still love them with all their quirks, faults, and peculiarities – that you're forgiving, and that you remember you're not perfect, either. What is 'perfect', anyway? Oh, and you've got to love, respect and forgive yourself, too, so you can love others, that's another important thing. Not in a selfish way, but I guess that goes without saying… As long as we love, we're alive. And we're rich. I do not believe that there is one universal recipe book on how we 'should' live our life, but this is the one rule I live by, and I think it's fairly universal. Shocking for a nun, I know. I should tell you about the Bible being 'the' universal recipe book in every way, I suppose. However, I think this essential rule is the vital element of it, anyway, so… Well, obviously, different people see things differently, but I believe that love is the answer in many of our struggles." Sister Marguerite had looked at her and asked softly "Did that answer your questions?" Camille had nodded and swallowed hard – there had been a lump in her throat as she had listened to Sister Marguerite's gentle voice.

This conversation had helped her to feel calmer and more balanced again. She had realised that the frenzy she had worked herself into was mostly caused by the fact that she wasn't in control. She had never liked to just sit around and wait for things to happen, and it had driven her batty that Richard hadn't sent clearer signals regarding his feelings towards her – and it had made her feel like he had just left her hanging. But then again, his lack of communication when it came to personal things was part of his character. Maybe he wasn't sure about what he really felt. Maybe it scared him (after all, the intensity of her feelings also scared her! She already knew that he could be passionate about cases, astronomy, history and books – she suspected that he could feel strongly about people as well… but people could be fickle and unpredictable, so it might feel safer for him to stick to "things" instead?). Maybe he had feelings for her, but just couldn't fathom what her reaction would be. He had sometimes reacted to her attempts to flirt with him, but who knew what he really thought about it? He hated emotional scenes, and he surely wouldn't want to make a fool of himself. Maybe he had been hurt before and that had made him overly cautious? Whatever it was - he was not trying to be enigmatic so he could manipulate her – she knew that much. On top of all the doubts he might have, an additional aspect was simply that he was very reserved, private and undemonstrative, for whatever reason - that was part of his personality.

And honestly, wasn't it his personality that she found so fascinating, along with lots of other traits? He was kind, funny and brilliant, among other things. He had a great sense of humour – although it had taken her a while to get it. Every once in a while, their different cultural backgrounds made it difficult to understand each other. Right… he was also quite annoying, childish and pedantic, that was not quite so fascinating, but it was part of who he was. And Camille realised that she didn't want him any other way. Obviously, she wasn't perfect, either – admittedly, he was right: she was sometimes illogical, quick-tempered and presumptuous, and that could be challenging. But she also was empathic, intuitive, loyal and understanding, and she hoped that he'd find that side of her personality attractive. Not to mention that she hoped he'd still find her stunning…

Thinking of the look in his eyes on that evening of the Erzulie festival brought butterflies to her stomach. She had always liked his eyes, but the way he had looked at her as they had talked on the patio - that had made her knees go weak for a moment. For a moment, she had imagined… and her imagination had run away with her. And the night at the meteorological lab – she had known he wouldn't make a move, but how she wished it had been different…

Kindness and patience, indeed. And maybe a swift kick up the backside every once in a while. She was willing to try and do her best. It would be difficult enough sometimes – but she was sure it would also be absolutely worth it.

The look in her eyes became even more tender, and her smile widened when she looked at Richard, who was now trying to stifle a yawn. The poor man, he had been on a plane for hours – and the jetlag surely was taking its toll now. Time to take him home… And Harry undoubtedly was ready for his meal, too!

Notes: Sister Marguerite is referring to 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 in the Bible.