Book Of Days_ A Novel Part 20

Cameron sat waiting for Ann in the Ski Inn, soaking in the smell of fried onions and sauteed mushrooms, thinking about Susan's words. What kind of life was was he recording? he recording?

His dad's trips to Africa, the free medical treatment he gave to thousands-definitely worth recording. And the joy his father brought to people with his universal acceptance and uninhibited laughter? Write it down. Write it down.

Jessie's volunteering downtown at the Union Gospel Mission, taking those kids from the cancer center up flying? Leading that Bible study for those girls? Pen and paper time. Pen and paper time.

Following G.o.d gave them purpose.

But Cameron's life? Sure he coached the kids in Little League and gave extra attention to the boys who didn't have a dad at home, but there wasn't much else.

He plopped his briefcase in front of his silverware and let his head slump forward behind it. It reminded him of hiding behind snow forts as a kid. Why couldn't the days be that simple again, his quest nothing more complex than smacking another kid in the head with a s...o...b..ll?

Cameron took a drink of his ice water and smacked the gla.s.s back down loud enough to get the couple three tables down to look his direction. What hard evidence did he have after talking to Susan? He yanked his notepad out of his briefcase. Nothing.

Describing his emotional state as frustrated was an understatement. He wanted to rip the town apart and force them to give him an answer. Was he the Fool on the Hill? Was he cras.h.i.+ng through the underbrush, chasing smoke, trying to find a fire that didn't exist?

Internally he swore at Susan, Taylor, Jason, and everyone else he could think of. Why wouldn't anyone give him a straight answer?

He was finding clues but too few and not fast enough. One led him to another leading to another like a stack of Russian babushka dolls, except this stack never seemed to end.

Cameron sat up and rubbed his ears with the palms of his hands, then his eyes. As his vision cleared, he focused on the yellow pad in front of him. Five pages of notes, plus a reconstruction of the ones that were stolen. Sometimes he could remember every line; sometimes he couldn't remember a quarter of what he'd written down. He circled a few lines in red ink, then closed his eyes and let his head fall back against his chair.

Was the memory loss accelerating? He refused to let himself think about it.

He glanced at his watch-6:50-then closed his eyes. Ann should be here in ten.

"You look tired."

Cameron jumped and opened his eyes. Taylor Stone stood in front of him, arms folded, smile on his face. He had his signature Oregon Ducks hat on, this one crisper than the one he'd worn at the creek. Probably even had one with a little bow tie on it for formal events.

He had to snap out of his descent into desolation. He wouldn't get much pity from Stone, and people didn't reveal their secrets to Eeyore. Be charming outside, even though his insides felt like grapes in a winemaker's vat during crus.h.i.+ng season.

"Don't you know as a self-respecting Husky I should rip that thing off your head?"

Taylor opened his eyes wide. "Huskies respect themselves? I learn something new every-"

"Do all Ducks have a proclivity for talking in cliche's? Or is it just you?"

"'Proclivity.' Is that really the way video producers talk in Seattle, or are you trying to impress me?"

He offered his hand and Taylor grasped it in a warm handshake.

"Good to see you. Is this a regular hangout for you?" Cameron said.

"No. It's just where I knew I'd find you."

"And how would you know that?" Cameron leaned back, twirled his pen, and gazed up at Taylor's knowing smile.

"I didn't." Taylor chuckled. "I actually had no clue. This is the fourth place I looked."

"Would you like to sit down and tell me where I can find the Book of Days? Or can I simply abduct you at gunpoint and force you to tell me what you know about it?"

Taylor stared at Cameron.

"At some point you're going to trust me." Cameron took a long look at Taylor and smiled. "I know it won't be this moment, but think about it."

Taylor sucked in a quick breath. "You and I need to go for a drive, my Husky friend."

"Sorry, I can't. I'm meeting someone here in a few minutes."

"Your choice."

Cameron clicked his teeth together. Ann would understand. "Let me make a quick phone call."

"I'll be outside. If you're not standing beside me in two minutes, I'll a.s.sume you don't want to talk."

"I'll be there."

Finally. Taylor Stone was going to grab a can opener and let the beans spill.

As Cameron walked out, he spied Kirk Gillum and a woman sitting at the bar.

"How's your search going, Mr. Vaux?"

"Not a lot of progress, but I'm still looking."

"Good for you." Kirk took a drink of what looked like scotch and soda. "Listen. I'm sorry about the day we met if I was a little rude. I've been burned, you understand."

"No problem."

"I hope the book fairy tale comes true for you, and you find what you're looking for."

Cameron frowned. "I thought you were one of Jason's followers."

"I am, and the idea of the book is real. But the book isn't real. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." But he didn't understand. If Jason was pus.h.i.+ng the book as genuine to his disciples, why wouldn't Kirk support that belief? And why did he care what Cameron believed?

Kirk turned back to the bar. "Take care, Mr. Vaux."

The inside of Taylor's Toyota Tundra matched the outside. Spotless. It didn't have that new car smell but looked like it should.

Neither man spoke as they pulled into traffic and headed for the east side of town. As the Three Peaks High School football field came into view, Taylor broke the silence. "I bled and danced on that field. Three golden years. Even had a few scouts send me letters, small college only, nothing impressive, but I did love the game."

"I understand you were pretty decent at basketball too."

"I see you've been conversing with Arnold Peasley."

Cameron smiled and nodded.

"That there?" Taylor pointed to an old mechanics shop with a 1912 Model T Ford sitting out front. "That's where Mr. Gowner taught me to tweak on cars till they purred like well-fed tabby cats.

"Look at those freestone peach trees over to your left. Tending to them was my first summer job. Thirteen years old and they told me to plant them in perfect rows. From smooth tender shoots to hardened, twisted peach trees in forty-five short years." Taylor sighed.

"Kind of like you, huh?"

Taylor jammed his forefinger at Cameron. "Watch it, punk."

"I've heard it said confessing to a stranger is often easier than those closest to you."

"For some. Am I about to be glad or regretful that I don't know you?"

Cameron propped his elbow on the open window and laughed.

"What? You think if you confess something to me, I'll be obligated to reveal one of the dark secrets you imagine I carry?" Taylor said.

"Something like that."

"First, I don't have any secrets, dark or otherwise. Second, I'm not in the habit of confessing to anyone. Nice try."

Cameron watched the river bordering the highway churn and pummel its rocky bank. "After my wife Jessie died, I did my job every day, never missed work, but I was drunk every minute for six months."

Taylor glanced at him. "Did you wind up taking a ride on the alcohol-addiction wagon?"

"No, I suppose I just wasn't made that way. I never had to have it, but I sure wanted it. If I'd gone by the AA definition, I was a full-blown member of the drinking consignetti. But when I stopped, I quit cold turkey, no temptation to overindulge again."

"What made you hit the brakes?"

"Almost making my car into a toaster oven with me inside. And I knew it would break Jessie's heart to see me that way. My dad's too. I vowed to them I'd never drink again."

"Oh, really? You think they see you from the great beyond?"

"I'm an agnostic, not an atheist." Cameron put on his sungla.s.ses. "So I don't know what's out there. Sometimes I think I feel her, feel my dad. Spirit world, heaven, maybe they're there right here now. I wish I knew for sure."

"Me too."

Cameron c.o.c.ked his head. "I thought you were a G.o.d person."

"I am. That doesn't mean doubts don't sometimes worm their way into my mind." Taylor pulled into a deserted park on the outskirts of town. The sun was starting to set behind thin clouds as they got out of Taylor's truck and walked across the parking lot.

"So what's your current drug of choice, Cameron?"

"Rock climbing."

They trudged along a path that wound up the side of a hill, putting them two-hundred feet higher within fifteen minutes. After they both caught their breath, Taylor pointed out the three peaks the town was named for. The mountains-snow covered even in the heart of summer-were framed by two ponderosa pines that stood thirty feet in front of them. Postcard perfect.

"Do me a favor and stand right ... here." Taylor stood behind Cameron holding his shoulders and moved him back a few feet to the right. "Take a close look now."

Cameron stared at the peaks. Taylor had brought him here for a reason, but Cameron doubted if the man would tell him why. Like a rabbit that bolts at the slightest movement, he sensed the man would clam up the moment he pushed him.

He'd seen the peaks hundreds of times since coming to town: on postcards, placemats, and around every corner of Three Peaks. But something here was different. The angle? The time of day? He couldn't tell. It reminded him of something and made him wish for his notebook.

There. That was the difference. The angle of the sun on the mountains formed a shadow that mimicked an arrowhead perfectly. And the arrowhead shadow pointed to a spot that looked like a tunnel burrowing into the mountain.

A moment later the sun sank lower in the sky and the illusion vanished.

"Let's go." Taylor turned back the way they'd come.

"What did you just show me?"

"Nothing." Taylor rubbed the back of his neck. "What's the toughest part about your wife's death?"

"You're not going to tell me why you stood me in front of the mountains?"

"No." Taylor scuffed along the dirt path, kicking at pinecones. "Sorry, Cameron."

Cameron stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. Was Stone part of the plan to drive him out of his mind? "The toughest part? The regrets. Stuff you wish you could take back, wish you'd done or said. The things you wish you could forgive yourself for."

"There are some things you should never forgive yourself for. With some things"-Taylor bent down and picked up a rock-"it simply is not possible."

"Really?"

Taylor hurled his rock at a tree twenty yards below them. It smacked into the pine dead center, the sound reverberating through the park. "Really."

The sun had given itself over to twilight by the time they reached Taylor's truck. Neither spoke till they were halfway back to the Ski Inn.

"I like you, Cameron. You're strong. You've lived through pain and sorrow. Now stay strong. And for your own sanity, get out of Three Peaks now. And until you leave, stay away from Jason."

"What's the history between you two?"

"None of your business."

Taylor didn't speak again till Cameron stepped out of the older man's truck and ambled toward his MINI Cooper.

"Cameron!"

He turned to look at Taylor who leaned out his window.

"I'm serious. I'm only looking out for you." Taylor pointed his forefinger at him. "Stay away from Jason, for your own good. Got it?"

Cameron didn't answer, but on the other hand, Taylor didn't wait for a response. He peeled out of the parking lot and didn't look back.

CHAPTER 24.