Book Of Days_ A Novel Part 25

"If it's already carved in stone, how is that possible?"

"It's not in stone, and I'm guessing G.o.d's book operates a little differently than ours." Ann gathered up her hair and put a scrunchie around it. "We chose to climb that cliff today. Our choice. No one else's. It wasn't some preordained plan that we had no part in."

"Do you mind if we have a soundtrack for our conversation?" Cameron pulled onto the road and slid a Jack Johnson CD into his player.

"Good call, H."

Cameron glanced at her. "H?"

"Did you ever see that movie K2? K2? It was about these two climbing buddies. One of the guys was named Harold. So his partner called him 'H,' and was always saying, 'Good call, H!'" It was about these two climbing buddies. One of the guys was named Harold. So his partner called him 'H,' and was always saying, 'Good call, H!'"

"Good movie?"

"It was all right."

Ann leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. It seemed so natural for her to sit next to him. Maybe G.o.d should keep writing this chapter.

"Listen," he said, "if we say for a moment this Book of Days is real-was that whole thing we just went through together on the cliff written down ahead of time? Before it ever happened?"

Ann didn't answer and he glanced at her again. She opened her eyes and frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just asked me that."

"What?"

"You just asked me virtually the same question two minutes ago."

He bit both sides of his tongue with his back teeth. He couldn't lose it now. His mind had been doing better the past few days. "Sorry, I'm a little stressed still. A lot stressed."

"Is your memory loss getting worse?"

Cameron clenched the steering wheel and ignored the vise grip around his stomach. "It's getting better."

When they reached Three Peaks, Cameron said, "I hope the emergency room isn't crowded."

"What?"

"You're getting that head looked at. You were out cold."

"I told you I'm fine. I meant it."

Cameron shook his head.

"Really, I've been knocked out before. If I had a concussion, it would have shown up by now."

"Even if I let you talk me out of going to the hospital, there's no way I'm letting you stay by yourself tonight."

Ann touched the bruise on her head and sighed. "So what do you suggest? Have me sleep next to the night manager in the lobby of my hotel?"

"You can do that?"

"Funny."

It was a good question. Neither of them knew anyone in town well enough-Cameron grabbed his iPhone.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Hi, it's Cameron. Would you be willing to have a mildly injured houseguest overnight tonight? She's very well mannered."

"What happened? Is it Ann?"

"We had a bit of an adventure during our climb today, and Ann got a head injury-"

"It's a b.u.mp, not an 'injury.'" Ann whacked Cameron on the arm.

"Is she okay?"

"I think she's fine. But I don't want her by herself tonight."

"I'd love to have her; I've wanted to meet her for a long, long time."

"Thanks, Susan." Cameron hung up. "Done."

"What'd she say?"

"She's wanted to meet you for a long time."

Ann frowned. "What does she mean by that? I just got here a few days ago."

"You should ask her."

"Will she tell me?"

"I doubt it." Cameron smiled. "She's good with secrets. But if she opens up, ask her about your mom's photo."

"That would go over well." Ann laughed. "I'll find out what I can. And we'll meet up tomorrow?"

"I'll call you as soon as I'm done seeing Arnold."

"Find me something good, okay?" She winked at him and Cameron winked back.

He dropped her off at Susan's, then gazed at the front door long after it shut behind Ann. Find her something good? If Cameron's suspicions were right, he would find her something very very good in Peasley's mountainous piles of newspaper. good in Peasley's mountainous piles of newspaper.

CHAPTER 27.

Tricia Stone strained to draw back her bowstring till the pulleys kicked in and made the final few inches easy. Just like life. Always a tipping point where the perseverance paid off.

She concentrated on her target, a root beer can hanging by a string from a pine tree forty yards away. The air was still as it often was in the middle of the day, and the only noise was the occasional call of a Wilson's Warbler that had settled behind her. No one to bother her. No one to interrupt her scattered thoughts. It was strange that she'd developed this pa.s.sion for shooting arrows into pop cans or pinecones or plastic milk cartons in the middle of the woods.

Not the expected hobby of a middle-aged empty nester, and friends teased her about it. Some called her Robin Hood, at least none of them called her Friar Tuck. Taylor never teased her. He even encouraged her practice, but then he had his own target practice: fly-fis.h.i.+ng.

Here she knew the answers, or if she didn't, it's where she could find them and fix the flaws.

As the pop can rotated slowly to the left, the sun hit it and flashed into her eyes. She blinked, then closed her eyes and saw the can in her mind.

Breathe in. Now hold it. Focus. See the can. Trust your instinct. Right there. Focus deeper. Release.

The arrow sang through the air, and Tricia didn't open her eyes till she heard the tip of the arrow rupture the can with a screech.

"Impressive shot."

Tricia whirled around to see who had spoken. There was no one. Wait. Over to the left, halfway behind a large pine. Jason Judah. "Thanks for sneaking up on me."

"No, I didn't do that." He rose from the boulder he'd been sitting on and ambled toward her. "I found you right as you started your routine. I didn't want to disturb."

Tricia glared at him trying to convey that's exactly what he'd done.

He didn't pick up on the hint. Or more likely he did and ignored it. "Mind if I join you for a few minutes?"

"Yes."

"We haven't talked just the two of us for years have we now? Hmm?"

Tricia half walked, half jogged to the can she'd just lanced to get her arrow. She didn't trust Jason. She'd never trusted him. And given his erratic history with Taylor, her heart pounded with the thought that they were miles from anyone.

Before she was halfway back, Jason called out, "What does Taylor know about the book?"

"What do you want?"

"To know what Taylor knows. Do you think he'd be willing to lead me to it?"

"That's a ridiculous question, Judah." She shuffled back up to her shooting spot and started packing her bow and arrows into a forest green bag.

"You know you're the only one who still calls me by my last name?" Jason laughed. "Did you know that?" He paused and leaned back against one of the pines surrounding them.

Tricia didn't answer. She wanted to leave, much sooner than later.

"Why is my question ridiculous?"

"Even if I knew what Taylor knows, I wouldn't tell you."

"Ah, so he does know more than he's letting on."

"Judah, I have no idea what my husband knows, if anything. But if you're so convinced he knows something, then ask him yourself." Tricia threw the last of her pop cans into her bag, yanked it onto her shoulder, and started striding the sixty yards back to her Jeep Cherokee.

"I did."

"And what did he say?"

"The truth about him will come out at some point."

"What truth is that?" She didn't look back.

"About his covering up the accident."

Tricia spun and glared at Jason. "For thirty years you've been hinting and hemming and hawing about Taylor. If you have something on him, why not just tell me. If you don't, simply keep that obnoxious maw of yours shut."

"Whoooweee!" Jason slapped his leg. "A little bit of fire coming out of the belly there. I'm impressed."

"I'm serious."

"Oh, I know you are." He narrowed his eyes. "But then again, so am I. Taylor knows more about the accident than he's ever let on. How do I know this?" Jason leaned forward. "He told me. In a moment of weakness, when for a moment he thought we were still friends, he told me. He said, 'I did it to her. I did it.' And I'm convinced whatever it is he did, is tied to the book. I'd bet my life on it." Jason rubbed his chin. "Did you know he told me that?"

Tricia's face flushed. The possibility that Jason knew more about Taylor's past than she did melted her heart. "The past is the past. What happened then is over."

"You're a believing woman, in G.o.d Almighty above. Aren't you? And you believe eternity is real? That there is a realm outside of time? A place where the past, the present, and the future can exist together?" Jason smirked. "So don't try to tell me the past is over. The past is right now."

"Are you finished?" Tricia pulled her keys out of her pocket.

"What does Taylor know about the book?"

She opened the back door of the Jeep, tossed her gear inside, and slammed it shut. "You might fool your followers, Judah, but not me. I see who you are. And it isn't about truth."

She got in, fired up the Jeep, and mashed the gas pedal to the floor, kicking up a curtain of dust that blocked Jason from sight in her rearview mirror.

If only making him disappear for good was that easy.

Ann had just finished forty-five minutes on a treadmill at the Three Peaks Women's Gym-which did wonders in erasing the fear of yesterday's climb-when a voice behind her said, "Excuse me, you're Ann Banister, aren't you?"

Ann turned to see a woman probably in her late fifties, with wavy shoulder-length brown hair and a face that looked familiar.

"I am, and you are?"

"Tricia Stone, Taylor's wife."

The wife of the mysterious Taylor Stone. Interesting. "Good to meet you."

"I feel the same way. I've been hoping to b.u.mp into you ever since you arrived."

"Really?"